The first 20 minutes of The Artist will leave you grinning with pure joy. Despite being almost devoid of dialogue, black and white, and 4:3 (no widescreen here), this is the film that got Cannes talking and saw its star bestowed with a Best Actor gong.
As our world sinks into a deep recession it’s ironic that a film set during the Great Depression should so capture the imagination. An irony, I’m sure, that isn’t lost on director Michel Hazanavicius, because this is a very knowing film. Its confidence is breathtaking, both in being able to sell its own existence (bravo the Weinsteins for backing it), and in its swaggering manipulation of our expectations.
