On Jan. 24, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences nominated The Artist, a silent film, for 10 Oscars. Already a winner of multiple Golden Globes, among other awards, The Artist might just win Best Picture, too. It would be only the second silent film to do so.
A win like that would cap what has been, for silent-film fans like me, a terrific few years. The 2010 debut of the completely restored Metropolis (1927) was a theatrical event, and this year’s North American premiere of Napoléon (1927) will be, too. The availability of silent films on DVD and, increasingly, Blu-ray, has really grown – one can now build a library of hundreds of titles, many restored to pristine shape, courtesy of high-quality distributors like Flicker Alley, Kino, and Criterion. Now, Michel Hazanavicius’ The Artist, a true silent film in the tradition of the old classics, has proven a critical success. And joining it in Oscar contention will be Hugo, a film not only about boys and girls and automatons, but also about Georges Méliès – the genius pioneer of silent film’s first two decades.
I’d like to think there’s a trend here, and perhaps there is one. However, anyone who believes this is the start of silent film’s return to the mainstream will likely be disappointed.
Despite near universal critical acclaim (including a 97-per-cent “fresh” rating on Rotten Tomatoes – the highest of this year’s Best Picture nominees), The Artist hasn’t made much money. This can be blamed, for now, on a limited release prior to January 2012. But even if The Artist wins big on Feb. 26, it’ll remain a hard sell.
A mass audience is needed to make any movie a mega-hit, and, in this regard, silent films are at a disadvantage: There will always be a majority unable to imagine how a silent film could entertain them, and thus unwilling to buy tickets. The praise silent films receive is chalked up to critics liking difficult art, and thus fails to persuade them otherwise.
I can relate. The second time I saw The Artist, I took a friend with me who had never seen a silent film before. She was open-minded, and enjoyed the experience. But she also articulated concerns. Appreciating silent film, she said, required a whole different way of viewing.
“I can immerse myself in a sound film without expending much energy considering the choices that went into making it,” she explained. “It almost enables me to see the world through another person’s eyes.”
For her, watching The Artist seemed more like reading poetry. It presented common things in an uncommon way, relying on symbolism to make up for the absence of sound. This demanded more of her as an audience member, just as reading a poem demands more of us, as analytical readers, than reading prose does.
I’d add that watching a silent film is more taxing for first-timers because it requires them to constantly reconcile the image on screen with a melody. Silent-film music does not usually simulate sound – nor is it secondary to the action, as music often is in sound films. The music doesn’t just support what we see – it evokes it. The result is a sort of dance in the viewer’s mind. This can be intensely personal, even emotionally overwhelming, and the concentration it requires is hard to maintain at first. With practice, it becomes much easier. Remember that silent films were once popular, mainstream hits like any blockbuster film today, and humans haven’t changed that much in 80 years.
In my ideal world, The Artist proves a tipping point for modern silent film – a breakthrough that, having built upon the mainstream press generated by the Metropolis restoration, and even the popular “quiet” of films like WALL-E, goes on to clean up at awards shows, attracting curious audiences and changing minds. It becomes the first of many modern silent features, helping build a small but continuing niche for silent films in 21st-century cinema. If all this comes true, so much the better for the movies.
Photo courtesy of Reuters.
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