Michel Hazanavicius's L'Artiste | The Artist (2011)

Set between 1927 and 1932, this nostalgic study of the silent movie, containing many references to the history of the cinema – earned a huge number of prizes, including best film, best director, and the first-ever French actor Oscar for Jean Dujardin's performance as George Valentin. George is a hugely successful silent movie hero who often performs with his trained dog Jack, although he knows that his star will fall with the advent of the talkies. He accidentally runs into a young woman while leaving the cinema to an adoring crowd when he picks up a purse dropped by Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo). The photo of the brief encounter in the newspapers is aptly (but quietly) prophetic in that it highlights the past on the left and the future on the right. And as Peppy rapidly climbs up the ladder of fame, George just as rapidly falls down it.

George is stubborn, and he's proud: even his hugely faithful chauffeur-cum-butler Clifton (James Cromwell), who later becomes Peppy's chauffeur, recognises that pride comes before a fall. And what a fall: his wife Doris (Penelope Ann Miller) boots him out, he goes from a palacial house to auctioning off his former treasures, to setting his own precious films on fire in a suicide attempt from which he's only saved by his dog notifying a police officer. George is recovering in hospital when Peppy – who's been faithfully following him from a distance like a virtual puppy dog – takes George to her palacial house to recover, where he finds that Peppy bought all his possessions at the auction. And cinematically (that's talking talkies) they set off together, Peppy along the ladder, George back up it. I can understand why it has appealed so much, both to the general public and the arthouse.