Why shouldn't The Artist win Best Picture? Let me count the ways. I know that the Oscars have little to do with quality of films and a lot to do with the political-style campaigns staged by their producers/distributors, etc., but if you're going to call the award "Best Picture" you should try to give it to the best movie of the year (wishful thinking, I know).
Before I begin, let the record show that I have absolutely nothing against frothy comedies. I believe that films should entertain as well as enlighten (the gold standard occurring when they do both at once). Preston Sturges and Woody Allen, two of my favourite directors, are masters of the genre. The Artist, however, falls into a different category: a frothy comedy made up of dusted-off clichés that coasts on retro novelty for laughs and publicity.
It is not even a real silent film. It is essentially a "talkie" shot much like any other contemporary Hollywood movie (except for the Black and White, which I appreciate) that simply swaps title cards for spoken dialog, and not even through the whole running time. Furthermore, it takes the plots of three classics, A Star is Born, Sunset Boulevard and Singin' in the Rain, dumps them in a blender and purées until smooth.
Jean Dujardin is fairly convincing, the dog is cute, but don't get me started on Bérénice Bejo, who was just plain miscast. She has none of the fey moxie of a young 1930s starlet and her bad posture in the dancing sequence at the end of the film is an insult to the idols of musical comedy.
Almost everywhere you look, the critics seem to think The Artist is poised to take the prize, but I'm crossing my fingers that that won't happen. I haven't seen War Horse, The Help or Hugo yet, but from what I've heard they wouldn't be my cup of tea either. That leaves four serious contenders in my books: The Descendants, Moneyball, Midnight in Paris and The Tree of Life. I have a feeling I'm going to be disappointed. Not that it matters, really....
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