Movie love also suffuses Michel Hazanavicius's "The Artist," a French production that is lovable from start to finish. Mostly silent and entirely black-and-white, this superbly stylish comedy is set in Hollywood and starts in 1927, when audiences were still enraptured by the soundless sight of Hollywood stars on the silver screen. The movie's fictional star, George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is a charming, peacock-vain amalgam of Douglas Fairbanks and John Gilbert, with a constant canine companion who does clever pooch tricks. (In a nightmare about the sound era to come, George discovers that he can't speak, though his dog can bark.) Bérénice Bejo is enchanting as an extra, Peppy Miller, who comes to George's attention by sheer accident, or maybe ambition, but in either case sheer. Once she does, he takes pleasure in her talent, as well as her beauty; he even punctuates her radiant puss with a Gloria Swanson beauty mark.

If you thought "Singin' in the Rain" was the last word on Hollywood's transition to talkies, "The Artist" adds silence, a buoyant spirit and graceful music. George and Peppy care for each other, even yearn for each other. In one inventive interlude, she sneaks into his dressing room, puts an arm through the sleeve of a jacket on a hanger and caresses herself with a hand she imagines to be his. But their trajectories are those of "A Star Is Born"—hers upward, his downward—and they lead to complications that Mr. Hazanavicius treats with a light and cosmopolitan touch. (In one wry touch, the star's chair on a set has his name on it, but the screenwriter's chair says only 'Screenwriter.')

"The Artist" was shot in 35 days—the cinematographer was Guillaume Schiffman—but you'd never know it. The dance numbers are elegant, though modestly staged. George and Peppy are amusing when they first dance together, but they finally come on like Fred and Ginger within the glittering confines of an Art Deco set. Los Angeles locations enhance Laurence Bennett's production design. (One distinctive scene with crowds on a staircase was filmed in the city's landmark Bradbury Building.) The cast includes John Goodman as a cigar-chomping producer, and James Cromwell as George's loyal chauffeur; he's the counterpart to the Erich von Stroheim character in "Sunset Boulevard."

The movie felt a bit long when I saw it at the Telluride Film Festival a few months ago, and equally so when I saw it again last week. The problem isn't so much the length—the running time is only 100 minutes—but the pacing, which tends to be on the slow and slightly self-enchanted side when passions aren't raging or pounding chases aren't under way. That's far from a serious drawback, though. Silence makes the film interesting by enticing us to concentrate in ways we're not used to, while artistry carries the day. "The Artist" may have started as a daring stunt, but it elevates itself to an endearing—and probably enduring—delight.