Though a black-and-white silent film might seem a grandiose and almost pretentious display of nostalgia, “The Artist” manages to craftily skirt these presumptions with ease… “The Artist”

Directed by: Michel Hazanavicius

Starring: Jean Dujardin, Berenice Bejo and John Goodman

Grade: A

Though a black-and-white silent film might seem a grandiose and almost pretentious display of nostalgia, “The Artist” manages to craftily skirt these presumptions with ease.

Instead, it comes across as a creative and beautiful rendering of a story. It’s the product of writer and director Michel Hazanavicius playing with film the same way that surrealists dabble with art: to make something like life — only more whimsical. And its success is evident in the 10 Academy Award nominations the film received.

The story of Peppy Miller and her one-time idol George Valentin pulls the audience in without the aid of conventional dialogue. Utilizing a sort of slapstick sensibility to get themes across and sparingly relying on white-on-black dialogue screens to convey complex conversations, the story is not at all lacking for the silence of its actors. The period music perfectly accompanies the action to indulge the audience with sound despite so little talking.

The film begins with silent-movie actor George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) at the peak of his career, meeting adoring fans — including the young and striking Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo). When Peppy finds her way into the production of one of Valentin’s movies, their attraction is undeniable, and her gregarious personality — paired with a mole George dots on her to set her apart from other girls — lay the foundation for her inevitable fame.

George and Peppy’s luck is paradoxical though. Just as her star rises with the new hot trend, talkies, his plummets as silent films go out of fashion. As George stumbles pitifully into obscurity and his life begins to unravel, Peppy leaps into the spotlight, where George sees her constantly — on posters, in films, everywhere.

But throughout the film, as George sinks deeper into despair, Peppy watches out for him. Much as he helped her by giving her a signature mole, she shadows him.

The storyline is subtle and beautiful. Nothing comes across as too much because the movie plays so well with the idea of flirtation. When Peppy and George meet, their attraction is evident with so little of the usual fare. When she cares for him later, her devotion becomes obvious with only sidelong glances out of cars. And yet, the increased physicality adds a sort of larger-than-life feel to the storyline, so it’s almost as though the viewer is transported into a different, nearly magical world.

This is true especially because the movie is self-aware. Throughout the film, George doesn’t speak because he can’t, and it’s never clear whether this is due to a decision or an affliction. Regardless, there comes a point when he hears sounds in a dream and feels uncomfortable with them. It’s apparent that the setting of the film exists somewhere between reality and a colorful history of cinematography — and it’s refreshingly creative.

Though the bare bones of the plot come across as melodrama, the film is not entirely serious. George’s beloved Jack Russell terrier is the fallen actor’s only constant companion. The dog proves to be a source of humor through his training — including when he falls over after his owner pantomimes shooting a gun his way — and with his adorable presence, the dog lightens the darkness of George’s despair. And in addition to comic relief, the pup is also a vital character in the plot, helping George when he’s at his most vulnerable.

It’s commonly said in theater that actors shouldn’t share the stage with kids or animals because they steal the show, but the actors in “The Artist” needn’t worry. Their performances are superb.

Without the crutch of dialogue, Dujardin and Bejo depend on their physicality, and they’re able to convey an excellent range of emotions without coming across as overacting. Dujardin’s winning smile and broad gestures at the film’s beginning demonstrate his delight in fame and his stooped shoulders and worried expression later show his exhaustion in anonymity. As for Bejo, her body language goes from that of an excitable wannabe star to the posture of someone confident and outgoing as her career progresses.

Because there is no speaking, the audience becomes wrapped up in the movie’s plot, trying to decipher every touch, every glance, every laugh. This effect is also the reason the actors don’t need overwrought faces to explain their emotions; the audience is engaged by their lives from the beginning. The character’s silence adds a certain air of mystery to the plot — the audience must make assumptions about the storyline, only to be proved wrong or correct later on.

“The Artist” certainly represents something different and creative in popular cinema, but it’s the film’s execution that really makes it shine.