Every so often a film comes from the left field and plays a complete blinder and The Artist is such a film. It is also glorious, delicious and an unalloyed joy and if you don’t go see it you are a bigger fool than I thought you were, which is going some. It’s a film about silent films but not just a film about silent films because this is a silent film about silent films, and so beguiling and touching and funny and tender and clever without being cute it’ll warm the cockles of your heart. I loved it, adored it, delighted in every frame of it, would run off with it, if I could — right now, today — and as my cockles now say, ‘Thank you. We are warm. It’s nice.’
Written and directed by Michael Hazanavicius, this is a French film but set in Hollywood in the late 1920s.
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