The Artist - never saw the lead paint a lick

I found this entire film enchanting. I'm not sure what it is about Black&White movies but everything about them is clean, crisp and polished. It's is probably why I draw a morbid pleasure from characters in pain and disarray. Even their smiles shine more brightly in twist of irony knowing that Hollywood was in large part born out of dirty money and is a cutthroat industry. Dreams are made there but they are also equally crushed. This film was also in part a Weinstein production but the taint of that realisation doesn't spoil what is a beautiful homage to the glitz and glamour of early cinema that is The Artist.

There's a gravity to this flick only a silent movie can afford. I don't think I've ever strained so much to read lips before. I also discovered in a brief moment of self-awareness that I was hanging on every minute detail with each and every scene. And then you realise of course that intentional or not, these details coalesce into the well choreographed tale of a stubborn silent movie star who nearly takes his life because he cannot seem to move with the times.

My favourite scene was the nightmare sequence in which George suddenly hears the world around him beginning with placing a glass on his dressing table. It was novel and inspired. The feather striking the floor made me jump out of my skin. Brilliant!

The dog was the real hero of the movie. That little Jack Russel could run for president. I wish they'd given him tap shoes at the end to join in on the final scene. Probably would've stolen the show though, let's be honest.

The only gripe I have, and it's a small one, was the elongated descent into destitution by George Valentin after refusing to do "Talkies". I think they could've shortened it a little.

Nonetheless, loved it. Can't say much more than that.

5 feather bombs out of 5