After our Thanksgiving dinner, we headed over to the nearest artsy cinema to see the new film The Artist. It’s a perfectly delightful movie, a tale that evoked both Singing in the Rain and Sunset Boulevard. Also, it’s silent, black-and-white, and French. I loved it. The glowing reviews I’d read in the New Yorker and the New York Times were definitely warranted — it’s the closest thing I’ve seen to a perfect movie I’ve seen in a long time.
(Needless to say, this movie more than atones for our seeing Twilight a couple nights before…)