Here's a question I've been asked several times during this Oscar season: Where in the H-E-double-hockey-sticks did "The Artist" come from? Whether people love it, like it or can barely tolerate it, the very existence of a French film made in half-loving, half-mocking tribute to the forgotten American dramas from the tail end of the silent era is distinctly puzzling. One answer to the question, of course, is to look at the previous work of soon-to-be-Oscar-winning director Michel Hazanavicius and actor Jean Dujardin, who were well known in France for their tongue-in-cheek approach to classic cinema long before making "The Artist."
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