It’s awards season once again, when Hollywood celebrates, if not the greatest and most audacious films of the year, at least the best of a certain kind of movie. This year, the academy is likely to honor films about filmmaking: The Artist and Hugo are love letters to silent cinema (and The Artist is nearly a silent film in its own right). The spectacle of the film industry telling the world how great it is always smacks of the Ouroboros, but this year, when the most-lauded movies are themselves paeans to the art of filmmaking, we’re in danger of running out of snake.
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