The Artist waxes nostalgic for a time and memory in which none of us lived: the golden age of film and silent-era. At moments it offers an eerie sense of Hitchcock or Fellini. Eerie senses that play upon the charm, unconventional, and whimsical of the 1920s high-life. While I don’t think it was the best film of 2011, it might be the most important. It’s affect on movies remains to be seen but hopefully it will mean more substantive and creative movies. The again it may take more than a foreign flick to change Hollywood. If The Artist influences anything, at minimum, there should be more Uggie-like dogs on the big screen.