Silents Are Golden

Until The Artist (Best Picture 2011) Growltiger had given up on most cinema as boring and predictable. The Artist, a French, Romantic-Comedy-Drama filmed in black and white and written and directed by Michel Hazanavicius stars Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo. And did the meower mention it's a Silent film?

In a Hollywood of clones--be honest; can you really tell Tobey Maguire from Jake Gyllenhaal from Elija Wood?--the leads in The Artist are as refreshing as a week's rain in the Sahara. Ms. Bejo lights up the screen the way Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly once did. Mr. Dujardin is not George Clooney, which, in itself, is an accomplishment. (The Growler wasn't aware the Academy awarded Oscars to films that didn't have some connection to openly Democratic, pro-Obama Clooney). Add in scene-stealer "Uggie", a Jack Russell terrier, and you have a film worth watching twice. Which I did.

By the way, Uggie sometimes gets a half page ad in the Wall Street Journal advocating rescue dogs since Uggie himself was a rescue. See The Artist if only to see Uggie.

Because The Artist showed and explained in such a delightful way the reason the actors in Silents mugged, gestured and eye-popped--they didn't have dialogue only intertitles--when The Sheik came on Turner Classic Movies a few weeks later, Growltiger watched. It was difficult getting past Valentino's leering, eye-popping and broad gestures and Agnes Ayers stereotypical female silliness, but the kitty watched from beginning to end. Unlike The Artist, The Sheik was not a good movie, but like The Artist, it lacked left-wing propaganda and that made it eminently watchable and enjoyable. No sitting on the edge of the seat waiting for the sucker-punch (Republicans/Conservatives/Libertarians are evil, Democrats/Socialists/Marxists are inherently pure and good). Or, as John Nolte terms it, enduring "the Liberal Tell" (Socialism/Communism/Marxism are Utopian-isms). Two Movies, No Propaganda. Batting a thousand here. The Growltiger was hooked. The DVR was set to record Turner's Silent Sundays.

Unlike Talkies, Silents have no discernible formula. One cannot be sure the writers won't knock off the hero; one can't even be sure who the hero is sometimes. Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921) is the best anti-war movie the Growltiger has ever seen. Sure it is dated and stilted and the special effects aren't special or even effects, but the message is there and clear--War Ain't Beanbag. The Phantom of the Opera (1925) is the only Phantom of the Opera where the Phantom is a creepy villain who deserves to get it in the end. Sunrise (1927) had an unbelievable plot and a resolution that seemed impossible after the husband tried to murder his wife and Sea Hawk (1924) was good enough that the Growler ordered the book for her Kindle -- it was free thanks to a group dedicated to preserving old books in digital form. (The Tiger does not recommend modern readers read the century old novel unless, like the Growltiger, one likes century old novels which will sometimes use "quoth s/he" for "said").

Silents entertain and amuse but most of all aren't politically correct and so surprise. (Richard Barthelmess as an Asian in Broken Blossoms -1919).  Silents don't cast like a cooking class: One real Asian, one Hispanic, two African-Americans-- one of whom is a computer genius--one 105 lb female (any color or race) who beats up 210 lb white, grubby, nasty guys without breaking a sweat (or a bone), one dumb white guy who is rescued by the African-Americans or the macho chick, one Christian or Southern bigot/Big Business CEO/Nazi/Serbian/doctor villain, one George Clooney before or behind the cameras and as often as possible one Sean Penn thrown in in a small role so he can make a living because half the population avoid his films because of his politics. And, by the way, all presidents, judges and wise men are Morgan Freeman or Morgan Freeman types.

Silents aren't for everyone, but for those who like Growltiger enjoy cinema and are fed up with being propagandized, instructed, insulted and/or lectured to, they are, as cited above, like a week's rain in the Sahara desert.