Review: The Artist

There are times, my friends, where I find myself deep within the critical minority. The Artist, I fear, is one of those rare moments of nearly complete disagreement.  After all, the film has already landed on numerous 'best of' lists, racked up the most Golden Globe nominations, is a shoo in for a half dozen Oscar nods, and -for a moment- was a major contender for the Palme d'Or at Cannes (luckily, Tree of Life topped it).  I'd left a space open for The Artist on my own personal end-of-the-year wrap up, certain that I too would fall victim to the rosy warmth of its silent era nostalgia. After all, a cinephile is a sucker for a movie about movies, and who could possibly resist a contemporary dose of shimmering black and white?
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