Release Year: 2011

Genre: Comedy, Drama, Romance

Director: Michel Hazanavicius

Writer: Michel Hazanavicius

Stars: Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, John Goodman

Ever dreamt of being swept away in a jalopy to swill at a speakeasy with all the hard-boiled cads and saucy dolls and debs of the 1920s? Think the glamour of old Hollywood is the cat's pajamas? Generally believe everything looks better in black-and-white?

We've found the movie for you.

The Artist tells the story of early Hollywood as it transitions from silent to sound film, between the years of 1927 and 1932. It also tells the story of George Valentin, a charismatic, toothy, and very famous silent film actor with extra-expressive eyebrows. Valentin plays mentor to energetic up-and-coming actress and all-around ray of sunshine, Peppy Miller…only to have her surpass him in popularity, relevance and social status.

Ouch.

Peppy's a few things that George just isn't—she's young, new and open to the booming world of movies with sound. In other words, she's fresh meat.

Of course no one's being forced to make silent, black-and-white films today. French director Michel Hazanavicius (of spy-spoof OSS 117 fame) took a gamble when he decided to take a "meta" approach to the genre, honoring his protagonist's stubborn nostalgia by revealing the beauty (and the restrictions) of the medium.

Think old films are boring? You're not alone. Even Peppy Miller claims silents are full of "old actors mugging at the camera to be understood." But maybe Hazanavicius' (new) old film will prove you wrong.

It definitely converted a few skeptics and even bagged a whole whack of Academy Awards when it came out in 2011…including Best Motion Picture of the Year, Jean DuJardin for Best Actor and Hazanavicius for Best Director.

In Hazanavicius' hands, this black-and-white movie isn't colorless at all…it's filled with shadow and light. It's not silent…it's augmented with Ludovic Bource's tender orchestral score.

None of the overacting that Peppy attributes to silent films can be found in The Artist. It's full, instead, of subtle and nuanced feelings that dance in the eyes of its players—behold, the magic of the close-up.

Film buffs will enjoy it for references to Hitchcock, Chaplin and Mary Pickford (or they'll love picking it apart for the things it gets wrong ); glamour aficionados will enjoy it for its lush costumes, sets and props; and dog enthusiasts will go all melty-hearted for George's terrier sidekick, Jack.

In short: there's something for everyone.

Because it's hard to know which trends will stick.

In a world (booming retro trailer voice) where all content is expected to go viral—just ask Clickhole—it's tough to weed out the forty-hour fad from the forty-decade sea change.

The Google watch? Yeah; didn't really catch on. Man buns? Not the surging men's' hair apocalypse people thought it would be. And the world also realized that bone broth was just…broth.

But on the other side of the trend coin, things that weren't supposed to catch on…did.

In fact, that's why people get paid to be trendspotters—so the great innovations of the world (gel manicures, Velcro, the wheel) can be weeded out from the doomed fads (Frutopia, Dippin' Dots, Orbitz). Because especially when you're in business—yup, even show business—it's imperative to know which way the wind is blowing, and what new things the world is clamoring for.

Welcome to The Artist, a movie about a guy who misses the boat on one of the most world-changing inventions of the last millennium: sound in film.

Whoopsies.

But The Artist isn't a parable about staying current…it's a story about just how easy it can be to miss out on what the world is anticipating when you're not paying attention. And it's also a story that underlines the fact that trends that have outlived their usefulness can still be fondly remembered, and have insane merit.

Yeah, The Artist plays it both ways. It shows how advancement is miraculous and inspiring (movies with sound, y'all)…but it also shows how artistically rigorous and exciting it is to work within the limitations of the past.

After all, The Artist isn't just a movie about a dude who lives through the transition from silent movies to talkies. It's a film that transitions from silent movie to talkie. It pays homage to weird, failed trends even as it embraces successful, enduring ones.

Basically, watching The Artist is like eating a kimchi taco (thank goodness those didn't founder when they were introduced in the early 00s) and chasing it with a dearly departed Squeezeit.