Oscars Night, 2012!

Nostalgia everywhere! The Artist (Silent/BW!). Woody’s Midnight in Paris as imagined by every francophile of my/his generation. Huey!  Melancholia! And other fading attractions… Last few years I arrive at the TV show aghast that I have seen only one or two of the nominees.  I was a film professor!  We have our reasons. Steeped in the underground films of the 60s, the arthouse films from Italy, France, and Sweden (50s and 60s), the American classics of the 70s, we don’t find much meat in the last 20 years of formulaic bottom-line grindhouse repetitions.  OK, I know,The Artist is edgy, divine, gorgeous.  But only if you have no real memory of classic silent films:  the photography is pure Hollywood 40s, the acting is “let’s pretend,” the story, predictable. Chaplin, Keaton, Arbuckle, Brooks, Lloyd, Gish, Jannings? No way.  …And what were those other nominees?  Should check Netflix, I guess…