Fine Art-ist

The Artist was my final selection of a triad of movies I was determined to get through on our flight home from Hawaii. It needed to keep my attention, which is a tall order given my general vacation exhaustion and specific sleep-disorder affliction. The odds were steep—steeper yet when you consider that the film is bereft of color and sound—and so one measure of The Artist’s greatness is that it kept my somnolently inclined self from sliding into a slumbering state. This film is a true masterpiece.