Thursday, June 28, 2012

Movie: The Artist

Drink: Bombay Sapphire martini



     I admit, I did not have high hopes for this movie.  The fact that it  won the Oscar for best picture was my first warning.  My second warning came a mere 5 minutes into the film when my brain was telling me " better get us some more gin, buddy.  This is gonna be a long, annoying, big band music filled nightmare."
     Right off the bat, there is a long scene showing the audience in a theater watching a silent movie.  Watching a silent movie about people watching a silent movie so early in the film only served to make me remember that they were forced to watch a silent movie, where as I was watching one of my own volition. There is a reason movies have full soundtracks now.  The most important being that sometimes a movie needs to be truly silent.  Some of the best films use the music and the absence of music perfectly to create atmosphere and depth.  The worst ones have the soundtrack blaring away in the background while a dramatic scene gets swallowed up and lost in its wake.  The Artist is filled with  non-stop orchestra music.  If  I had seen it in a theater with a real band, then maybe , maybe it could get away with it.  If you are in your living room, then you are going to feel like you are on hold with the IRS for 2 hours.
    Another problem is with the actors themselves.  Berenice Bejo was a terrible choice in my opinion.  Her painfully bony face and plastic surgery pointy nose were so out of place, as were her bulging eyes and huge overly white teeth and protruding rib cage.  For a minute I thought I was watching Desperate Housewives with the color off on my t.v.  While Jean Dujardin wasn't quite as annoying, I still got so sick of his sad, sad eyebrow raises and the gigantic shark attack smile that makes me wonder if he's not related to Julia Roberts.
     I'm sure most of you are thinking "he just doesn't get it", but I assure you that I do.  If you are working with a limp, boring love story and your audience is a bunch of  limp, boring hipsters that will swarm to anything even remotely retro, this is the film to make.  It was a one trick pony, a gimmick.  If you don't believe me, I'm willing to take bets on whether a black and white silent film will win the Oscars again next year.  Any takers?