I saw The Artist today; I haven’t left a movie theater that satisfied since I was a six year old doofus and I went to go watch Tarzan (okay, maybe I have —but you get the idea).
All the scenes were like postcards and I laughed and I cared about what was happening in every shot, at every moment. I didn’t care about a couple, a kiss, a death, a fancy-pants device, what was predictable, what wasn’t, I just cared in a simple and invested way. It’s a serious movie without being sad or deep. It’s so refreshing after the other ambitious movies I’ve seen this year like Tree of Life and Melancholia which, while beautiful, were annoying.
And Jean Dujardin’s smile is absolutely unfair. He can smile at a screen for a solid five minutes and I would stare adoringly through every second of it.
Seriously. What a dream-boat.
(Although the best part of this movie is Uggy, a Jack-Russell-looking dog who knocks all the people-actors out of the water.)
