TheBakersfieldCalifornian.com

Recently, we made a date to see "The Artist." You'd think a silent film (black and white as well) would be empty on a Tuesday night, and save a smattering of people and an attractive couple close to our age who stood behind us in line, it was.

The gentleman was skeptical, both about it being a silent movie and his suspicion that the movie might be aimed at women.

"The Artist" has been nominated for best picture," she said.

His "aimed at women" remark was striking. He either didn't know his wife or women in general. Women, at least the ones I've met, embrace conversation.

In other words, if a married woman were looking for a film that appealed to her feminine side, a silent film would not seem the natural choice because they can get quiet at home for free from the man with whom they live.

We walked inside and sat in the middle of a row, three quarters of the way back. A few minutes later, the attractive couple walked in, arms full of popcorn, hot dogs, soft drinks and a candy option that did not include Junior Mints.

Seven p.m. is a tricky time for a movie because you either have eaten dinner, you plan to eat dinner at the movie or the movie will be followed by dinner, which in this case would mean waiting to eat until 9:30, which is a lot to ask of a hearty American.

We had eaten, but who could blame someone, specifically, the handsome couple behind us, for not? A movie for them included splurging on a sumptuous movie dinner.

After the previews, the movie started. Set in L.A., in the early part of last century, the plot revolves around George Valentin, a silent movie star who refuses to make the transition to sound once the talkies start in the late '20s, because he fears that speech will degrade his artistry.

Knowing what we know, it was hard to feel that Valentin's stand would end in anything but disaster. However, "The Artist" is an engaging film once you grow used to the idea that people are mute.

Other than the music, the movie was quiet and so was the theater, save the munching of popcorn, slurping of drinks and tearing off of packaging emanating from the attractive couple sitting behind us. It was a sound that would have been distracting in a traditional movie because it would have hindered hearing key moments in the dialogue.

However, even without the spoken word, it was hard not to notice the crunching, crackling and tearing behind us. Are people normally this hungry? It sounded as if, after they had finished their movie meal, they might start in on the cloth seats.

What was the etiquette, I wondered, for eating during a silent movie? If someone were to complain, could not the diners have responded, "It's not as if we are impeding your ability to hear the dialogue because there is no dialogue."

I sat there befuddled, torn between remaining quiet and uttering the first words out loud since the movie began 40 minutes ago. Would the words sound strange coming from my mouth? Would I even remember how to speak after giving myself over to the silent film genre?

At the end of the movie, George Valentin finally speaks. "With pleasure," he says, when asked to repeat a dance scene. The theater was quiet because moments before, the couple finished their movie dinner.

The choreography was perfect. The movie found its voice. The audience, silence.