Sunday, February 12, 2012


... here in Monterey. We arrived in good time after a long drive north from Los Angeles and set out from our hotel room with the intention of exploring the sights. Only a few blocks out, walking into a cold wind, we passed a movie theater that was showing a variety of films, including "The Artist." Checking the schedule, we discovered that it had started barely a minute earlier, so we hastily bought tickets, climbed over a row of very tolerant fellow movie-goers, and settled in for the performance.

I enjoyed "The Artist." It was charming. Captured the Hollywood era of transition, from the silent movie to the talkies. I enjoyed the use of black and white, and especially the occasional witty use of sound. The dog was cute. The problem, for me, was the character of the protagonist. The mythic pattern of the "hero's journey" leads us to expect that the main character, after his descent, will make his own way out of his personal hell--and not need rescue by the damsel. The reverse was the case here, leaving this viewer dissatisfied at that (important) mythic level.

Maybe you'll like it more than I did--or at least leave more satisfied with the story's trajectory.

A decent Italian dinner. Too much food. The walk back to our hotel was, as Ellie likes to say, "freezing"...

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