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During their holiday on the north coast of Cornwall, brother and sister Rick and Pam Fitzgerald (Ray Milland, Ruth Hussey) find and fall in love with an old, vacant house. Despite its excellent condition, rumours of 'disturbances', which forced out the previous lease-holders, keep the sale price relatively low, and they buy it from the aloof owner, Beech (Donald Crisp). It isn't long before the Fitzgeralds themselves experience disturbances, and find themselves caught up in a supernatural drama involving scandal, sudden death and Beech's naïve and conflicted granddaughter, Stella (Gail Russell).

One of the earliest ghost stories to be filmed, The Uninvited is also one of the best. It is not a shocker, and won't have you jumping from your seat (or trying to hide in it) like "The Haunting" (1963), or sweating bullets like the entirely earthbound "Duel" (1971), but "The Uninvited" is very effective nonetheless. As is often the case with successful films, different elements contribute.

The story is a good one, in that it has some substance to it. There is as much mystery as supernatural to it, as Rick and Pam, aided by the local doctor (Alan Napier), dig into the past, finding reticence and confusion as they investigate what happened at Windward House seventeen years previously.

The tale is adapted from the novel "Uneasy Freehold" by Dorothy Macardle (I think you'll agree that the change of title from what may have been thought an essay on real estate to something more foreboding was a good one) and is well-written. Though the climax makes certain the nature of the villainy, there is doubt through much of the movie.

There is a certain light-heartedness that runs through the story, which contrasts with the darkness of possible murder and sinister danger that is also present. That light-heartedness, however, comes not from attempts at comedy-relief (though there is a short episode of that on a small sailboat), but from the characters, specifically Rick Fitzgerald.

He is an easy-going young man who finds humour in everything. This bright and breezy personality is essential to his relationship with Stella; as well, it works, ironically, with the seriousness of the story. Rick attempts more than once to dispel dread - and the possibility of ghosts - with humour. The fact that this humour comes across as awkward at times is due entirely to his realisation that the situation is not a funny one.

Without the talent to bring them to life, these characters would have been two-dimensional, of course. I reviewed Alias Nick Beal, also starring Ray Milland, and wrote then that I couldn't imagine seeing that actor again without his Nick Beal colouring other performances. I was wrong, which shows what thespian skill can do. Milland is entirely the good-natured Rick Fitzgerald, who would know exactly what to do with the likes of Nick Beal.

Crisp, who is able to change a whole personality with a tone of voice, makes the chilly Commander Beech into a real person, while Cornelia Otis Skinner's character makes her implied fate credible. (Remarkably, Skinner's memoirs of her girlhood, "Our Hearts Were Young and Gay", were made into a movie and released in the same year as "The Univited"; Skinner, as an adolescent, was portrayed by none other than Gail Russell.)

If there is one criticism to "The Uninvited", it is Russell's performance. Though this was the third motion picture role of her tragic career, her talent was still developing, and doesn't approach Milland's or Hussey's. To compensate, however, she possesses here an innocence and youth that her character demanded, and Russell's inclusion in the cast is not deeply injurious to the movie.

The direction is first-rate. As mentioned, there are no moments of outright fright, but a number in which the goose-bumps do rise. The cheap thrills in what passes for scary films of today - something leaping from a closet to loud, sudden strains of music - are completely absent, and the worst violence is caused by a squirrel nipping Rick's finger.

What is found are a number of eerie scenes and images, a successful use of light and shadows, and implication, rather than expression. There are some good depictions of Stella, who comes to stand at the centre of the drama, moments that reinforce the puzzle that surrounds her.

A partnership of direction and production conjures up what many lesser horror stories fail to accomplish: atmosphere, not just of fright, but of situation and place. Though probably filmed on a back-lot, there is an authenticity to the setting. The initial placement of the story is fixed with evocative scenes of the rocky Cornish seashore, and the sets that comprise Windward House itself surely must have been based on a real building, as the exteriors and interiors match, and seem entirely realistic.

"The Uninvited" combines many stereotypes of the ghost-story - the haunted house, the innocent victim, the mystery from the past - which, of course, were not stereotypes at the time, and provide an almost genteel treatment of what might have been a lurid tale. This is an excellent movie, and should not be missed.

At the top of his profession, silent-film star George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) loves his work. He enjoys making movies, he enjoys the adulation, he enjoys his life. But as the 1920s draw to a close, two things arrive to disrupt that most satisfactory existence: bright and ambitious young actress Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), and talkies.

There isn't much wrong with this superb motion picture. It is a (mostly) silent film about the coming of sound to Hollywood. It may be seen as a companion-piece to "Singin' in the Rain": an examination of the time period from the other side. While both films might be considered light-hearted, they are also heart-felt. Despite being filmed in black-and-white and almost without sound (except for music), it is not a satire of silent-films, but a valentine to them, a demonstration of just how well they worked.

The plot is a melodrama straight out of the Silent Era, though its likes have been carried forward to the present day, even to the third remake of A Star is Born. Superficially (both in appearance and career-progression), Valentin resembles real-life actor John Gilbert, while his movies are more reminiscent of Douglas Fairbanks's. That "The Artist" is a melodrama should be seen as in no way a detriment, as the story is sincere and well-crafted.

There are, throughout the movie, parallel but closely connected storylines, Valentin's career crumbling and Miller's building. Yet alongside these events, the two characters maintain an interest in each other, supporting each other if only from afar.

The actors are excellent. The two leads have a winning chemistry, perhaps formed in an earlier film - "OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies" - also directed by Hazanavicius. Both players have an almost immediate charm, which allows you to like their characters and support them, without being blind to their flaws. The players must, necessarily, be able to act with the slightest of expressions, and this they do, Dujardin especially. There is a brilliant little sequence when performance and direction combine to open a window into Peppy's mind and heart as Bejo acts opposite a tail-coat.

The leads are backed up by a number of fine if subdued performances. John Goodman plays the head of the fictional Kinograph Motion Pictures (a man who would probably like to be a ruthless cinema mogul but isn't enough of a jerk); Penelope Ann Miller has a thankless role as Valentin's wife; James Cromwell is his devoted chauffeur; Ed Lauter as a butler, and Malcolm McDowell in a tiny (dare I say it?) non-speaking part as an extra awaiting an audition. And I can't forget Uggy, as Valentin's beloved dog.

While the likeability of the stars influences their characters, they, in turn, influence the audience. Valentin undoubtedly has an ego - he has a life-size portrait of himself (with his dog) in the hall of his house - but he is also cheerful and friendly, with a nice word and a joke even for the stage-hands at the studio, and despite temptations, he remains faithful to his wife, though their marriage is moribund.

Also, Valentin's love for his craft is apparent (hence the movie's title). At the premiere of his latest film, he is shown watching the movie from behind the screen: on his face is the quiet happiness felt by everyone who has accomplished something both enjoyable and good.

Whether intended or not, Valentin and Peppy Miller are very similar. Miller's rise in Hollywood during Valentin's descent feeds both her ego and clear desire for attention, yet she is quick to regret any slight she might inadvertently make.

And lastly, the direction, which is faultless. Whether Hazanavicius (who also wrote the screenplay) could pull off another such complete and involving movie I cannot determine, but his touch here is deft. The manner of direction is a studied tribute to that of the Silent Era. Like films from that time, dialogue cards are used but, again like the Silent Era, they are not, in fact, necessary. As Norma Desmond says in "Sunset Boulevard", "We didn't need dialogue. We had faces." There are scenes in which Peppy watches Valentin from a distance (and thus effectively without sound), yet is overcome by emotion; another tribute to what made silent movies work.

"The Artist" can be treated as a movie made just after the advent of sound, looking back at recent events. Sound is utilized but only at imaginative and strategic moments, particularly at the end, when it reveals something about Valentin that might - or might not - have influenced his attitude toward talkies.

"The Artist" will remain one of my favourite movies, and, if it doesn't ignite viewers' interest in silent-films, will surely make them want to see this one again.