You Say It Best...

(originally published by The Student)

     Watch any western, any black-and-white adventure film, any rags-to-riches adaptation, and you'll realise we've seen this all before. The guy gets the girl, the evil tyrant falls and the True King rises, be it Middle Earth or the Mid-West. We've seen these scenes repeated across time and space, and we know how it goes. Without the speech, the scene still goes the same way. New film The Artist proves this, without saying a word. Aside from the picture-perfect cast and a dog which will reach cult celebrity status any day now, the film addresses the transition between '20s movies and '30s talkies, and a sparse use of sound which offers a challenge to the film-makers.

     In one scene, uncharacteristically static, a pair of old friends meet and greet, swap stories, laugh- the details, irrelevant, are replaced by an emotive score and some close camera-work, all of which makes us feel no less connected to the characters as we would have done had they been talking.

     As a self-professed linguafile, I think it takes a very special production to get rid of words entirely and still tell a story which makes sense. But last November, I had my first taste of this far from the silver screen, in Michael Bourne's Nutcracker. I sat amazed as a character I had come to know and love battled her way through a strange dream-world of pre-Christmas celebration. Gyrating, salsa-dancing licorice ladies and stocky humbug-bouncers alike were created entirely through movement, music and interaction. One scene in particular saw the Prince Nutcracker, released from inside an ugly doll, remove his mask and his shirt to reveal why all men should take up ballet. Our heroine skims towards him, and timidly lays her head on his bare chest. As she sighs, my flatmate whispers- “I know how you feel.”

     I still wonder how this feeling was so well translated into body-language, without a single word being said. But it seems that certain stories, be they filmed or danced out for our entertainment, are older than words. They exist somewhere in the back of the mind and inevitably come out, shaping our expectations and our judgements of right and wrong. The guy should get the girl, the dance will play out perfectly, the director will yell 'Cut!' and everyone goes home happy. Why use words at all?

     When we take away spoken language, other things are heightened- the highly choreographed, somewhat contrived movements of ballet are an expression of emotion and meaning; the shaking head of a scolded schoolboy is a challenge to authority; the long lingering look from a washed-up moustachio'd actor is a cry for help.

     Certainly, words still add depth to performance (or, so I like to tell myself when I try to justify my choice of degree). Had the heroine of the Nutcracker come across a disturbing sense of ennui along her journey, or if Peppy Miller had gone slowly, quietly insane on her rise to fame, it would take a very good director indeed to convey it effectively. But with the oldest, best-known tales of good-versus-evil, running off with a knight in shining armour, or simply a Jack Russell saving a man's life, perhaps the words could say nothing at all.