Remaking Singing In The Rain from the silent’s point of audition is a terrible idea. The Donan film came out in 1952, when capitalism was still booming and now such a narrative can only serve to make our current “crisis” seem charming. The Artist moves into the sphere of the utterly despicable with its drive to make silent films seem familiar by parading their laziest tendencies, such as narration by news paper montage, and its repeated shots of gratified period audiences. Things start off plausibly, if annoyingly cheerful, enough when the movie seems to take up the challenge of visual narration, but the intertitles come quickly and things go down hill from their. Michel Hazanavicius’s almost ungraspable lameness goes so far as to end a an hour and 35 minutes spent valorizing muteness with sync-sound speech, because that too must be happy.