Once or twice, I’ve discussed “The Festival Mindset”. The idea is that if you get a bunch of like-minded film lovers into one place and show them something, that the reception it garners will be a little bit…off.

That’s not to say that the film you show them is bad – often far from it – it’s just that a festival crowd isn’t as in tune with the filmmaking industry, or general audiences, and when the film gets soaked in by two groups, the reaction is very different. Herein lays the quandary with a film like THE ARTIST. It is wonderful – make no doubt about that. But when the time comes, how will it play?

On Friday night, THE ARTIST debuted to a packed house at the Visa Screening Room. As is often the case in that venue, you could sense an excitement in the air for what was about to unspool. They didn’t have to wait long, as the movie begins with a lot of pluck from a bygone era. Right from the first glimpse of the opening credits, it was plain to see that we were gathered to see something that would make people like Keaton and Chaplin proud. Not wanting to waste any goodwill, the movie immediately charms by opening on a scene that created a ‘screening-within-the-screening’ effect.

For the next ninety minutes it became abundantly clear, that it is still possible to capture and delight an audience without the use of audible dialogue. The movie weaves back and forth between fable and fancy – warning about the perils of pride, but not letting too much time go by without a great sight gag. We are dazzled by both Jean Dujardin as George Valentin (the titular artist), and Bérénice Bejo as Peppy Miller (there’s a name you won’t soon forget). Valentin plays his part with an aplomb that seems equal parts vlaudville and Clooney, while Bejo is a firecracker whose character arc is a nod to the lore of Hollywood.

As the houselights came up, and Dujardin took the stage with director Michel Hazanavicius in tow, there was a boisterous standing ovation to greet them. The love being showered upon them was the culmination of the crowd’s excitement realized on screen, and not bravado led by those involved with the project who might have been in the crowd (as sometimes happens at TIFF). The audience came in ready to love THE ARTIST, and Hazanavicius hit his mark perfectly.

So it was a great night at the theatre, the home crowd went home happy, and everybody – myself included – seemed to have been delighted by a rare and wonderful film. That makes it a slam dunk going forward, right? Perhaps. The film will charm the pants off any festival it plays, and every critic who watches it…but how it does with mainstream audiences, and groups like Oscar voters remains to be seen. No matter how much advance buzz it’s getting, black & white silent film is still niche, and it may struggle to get a foothold.

Here’s hoping it doesn’t, and that the crowd tonight can join the glitzy audiences of Cannes in being able to say “I was there when…”