My Thoughts on the movie The Artist

I know what you’re thinking.  I know, I know.  I should have watched the movie ages ago.  The truth is I kept putting it off because I knew I would be a weeping mess.  Guess what?  I was a weeping mess.  It was a good weeping mess though, the kind where you get most of your thinking done.

            The writing was so full of symbolism that I felt like I was in a Shakespearean play.  I love stories with things that mean multiple things.  For example, the writer cleverly chose his hysterical dog to represent the main character.  The dog obviously does not speak and is multiple times overlooked.  However he plays a very important role.  Even the physical proximity of the dog to him in each scene is telling of his emotional state.  When he strokes his dog it is almost as if he is stroking his own ego.

            The artistry of the film itself goes without saying.  Perhaps my favorite scene is when George notices things making noise in his dressing room for the first time and how much it jolts him.  The fact that the scene where he leaves the studio is filmed on a staircase with her above him is just one of the many brilliant shots the cinematographer carefully portrayed.  She was above him, moving up in this fast paced business while he was moving down, on his way out.

            The healthy emotional perspective behind the film goes without saying (but I’ll say it anyway).  The past does need to be let go and sometimes we need to swallow our pride.  However, the past should be recognized as important as it paved the way to the future.

            The most interesting thing to me was George’s tragic flaw.  It was fascinating to watch his downward spiral.  He loved himself but that very love of himself made him loathe himself.  He desperately needed for the world to love him but in this new world he felt like the one-trick pony whose trick was outdated.  He lived as a victim.

            It is definitely true of artists to be so driven by their own egos that they cannot move forward.  This hit home for me.  A friend of mine explained to me that I’m all or nothing.  Either I love myself because I am adored or I hate myself because I am not. 

            George also let his marriage dissolve because he is so focused on himself and his own problems.  Like him, I have the tendency to take people for granted who want to love me because I’m so concerned with being adored by the world.

            At the end of the film I knew that it was aptly named.  This film was not just about one man.  It was not a historical look at the emotional trauma caused by the talkies taking over old film-star’s lives.  It was about the collective artist or, to put it another way, every artist.  How should we react in such a quickly growing field?

            When we get disillusioned, we need to re-invent ourselves.  We need to start thinking creatively again.  We need to start thinking outside of ourselves.  Most importantly we need to do.  Stop living in the past.  Start living now.