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The Artist

Just in time for the Oscars—which I don’t watch—we went to see The Artist. Our friends, dog lovers, were excited to see the dog and indeed loved Uggie, who played the dog. (I wouldn’t mind a dog like Uggie if I don’t have to train it. Or pick up his nether region exhaust). I must confess to be relieved; I was afraid the film might be based on the artist formerly known as Prince. I don’t know what he is called these days; King would seem a natural progression.

I thought the movie was pretty good, except for the part in the middle when I fell asleep. But the beginning and end were good (it’s possible the middle was too but I doubt it. I don’t fall asleep at the movies.)

The music was excellent. It took the place of dialog throughout; I can’t imagine it not winning an Oscar. The mystery—I won’t give it away—as to the why, wasn’t revealed till the very end and was convincing. Meanwhile, Berenice Bejo, the lead actress, has eyes that reminded me of Natalie Wood and legs almost as nice as Cyd Charisse’s. Ruth tells me the lead actor is very handsome. I guess so, if you go for that sort of thing.

The Artist is one of the “Best” nominees. A film being touted for a best pic Oscar, should keep me awake throughout. And it doesn’t seem to have the heft to be the Best Movie. Unless one compares it to Moneyball, which was fine but, nominated for Best? Really?

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