2011 will go down in movie history as the year Hollywood made its homage to classic cinema with films like “War Horse” Spielberg’s epic tribute to David Lean, “Hugo” Scorsese’s tribute to George Mêlées, and finally “The Artist” Hazanavicius’s tribute to the silent era. All three films celebrate a past style of filmmaking that is sadly missing from modern cinema – the simple ability to entertain. While I may have used the term simple to describe the feeling of being entertained in a particular fashion, the artists who bring us that entertainment do so in a way that is far from being simple.

In point of fact, cinema is the most complex and transient art form in existence. Unlike a song that can be sung, a play that can be quoted, a picture that can be duplicated onto another surface, film must be seen and heard during a sitting. After that, it is only a memory. One cannot go out of a theater and reenact a film by oneself. You can hum Rigoletto or Beethoven, recreate an actor’s performance in simile, you can even describe a painting, but you cannot perform a movie and it is nearly impossible to relate the experience in printed form. A critic can describe their impressions and also describe the plot in every way. But to really enjoy cinema, one must go through that experience.

Sitting through “The Artist” I began to understand the power of early cinema as a storytelling art form. Where most theaters had only an organist or piano for mood music, it was the power of the image on the screen that sold this method of storytelling to audiences long before World War I, long before the Roaring Twenties, and long before era of sound. While their method of acting and style of camera work has become cliché, we can still look back and see the fascination that early silent cinema brings. While the projected image is just a flat screen that has variations of reflected light, that light and screen give so much more to us than just a story – they give us laughter, they give us pathos, they make us feel wonder, and they fill us with a sense of dread. The art of cinema is clearly expressed in its most basic form in “The Artist” and yet it is one of the most stylized films since “Schindler’s List.” Brought to you in glorious black and white, the film uses primarily music to convey the emotion of the scene. As the film comes to climax in the story, the music changes to the score that Bernard Herrmann wrote for the Hitchcock film, “Vertigo.” Why director Michel Hazanavicius chose this moment to bring that music is one that borders on plagiarism. However, Herrmann’s music is as powerful now as it was back in 1958, a timeless piece of music that literally ends with a bang. How funny that Hazanavicius should also choose to use a sound card to purposely miscue the audience about the outcome.

“The Artist,” shot completely in Hollywood during a two month period in 2010, is the finest homage to American cinema I have ever seen and reminds me of another great gift the French made to America over a hundred fifty years ago. “The Artist” deserves every award and accolade it has accumulated and probably a few more – in terms of editing, score, photography, set design, costume, acting, production, and direction; there was no finer film for 2011 – a present wrapped in a big black and white bow from those who admire us most.

Note: I went back for the entire year and could not find another post, festivals included, that had a review of this film. If there was one, you can certainly attach this comment to it. Cinemabon