So it's Saturday and I'm allowed to go out of the stress sandwich I've lived in this week to the cinema - and I did.
The Artist is almost totally a silent and always a Black & White film made about an acting/song&dance couple in Hollywood at the transition between silent films and talkies (stupid reference: the best film so far to cover this transition was Gene Kelly's Singing (sorry no Singin' will be found on these pages) in the Rain).
In any case, as usual, despite the fact that it had French and English subtitles, I was the only person in the Stalingrad house laughing and getting the 1927-1932 references.
The principals, Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Béjo and John Goodman (wow he's changed), are priceless, but the scene stealers are the best character actor in the business, James Cromwell, he who played Prince Phil in The Queen, as the butler/secretary/chauffeur/valet/dogsbody and the dog, that's right, the dog - one Uggy.
Go? If you're an American over 70 years old, take 3 hankies and a ballot for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.