JOPLIN, Mo. — There was a time when people liked to be challenged by their entertainment. Television used to be more than bland cookie-cutter sitcoms or police procedurals. Books that challenged the mind would be embraced, films that didn’t fit into the traditional structure would become cultural touchstones. Those days, it seems, are behind us.

Now, in our increasingly connected world, we don’t want too much intellectual stimulation. Ours is a society of 140-character tweets, viral videos and pointless Facebook trolling. We have become a collective of short attention span-cursed people, unwilling to invest in the entertainment that we digest. But on occasion, something will shake the status quo and remind us that it is OK to allow something different into our pop culture.

“The Artist” is different from those serious films usually seen this time of year. It is light and airy, an homage to a simpler time. It is a celebration of the silent film, of the roaring ‘20s, of a time when going to a movie was an event to be treated with respect, where a couple would put on their finest to make it a night on the town. So I fully expect the film to be rejected by modern audiences who like their text-messaging time interspersed with ample explosions and don’t want to interrupt their conversations by paying attention to something as frivolous as character development. This would be a mistake, as “The Artist” is probably the most enjoyable film to come along in the past year, if not longer.

The movie follows the story of George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), a dashing silent film star, and Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo), a fan who has a chance encounter with George that propels her into movies. The two have an immediate connection in their first scene together, but slowly drift apart as Peppy’s career begins to build.

When George learns of the idea of talking pictures, he scoffs, thinking them a fad that will pass quickly. When his studio decides to move into the new era without him, he bankrolls his own silent film to prove the naysayers wrong. Unfortunately, the release of his movie coincides with Peppy’s first starring role in a talkie, and he quickly sees that he was wrong. At the same time, the stock market crashes, sending George into an emotional and financial spiral as Peppy’s star begins to rise.

Certainly it isn’t dealing with the weightiest of issues. Its story of unrequited love and failure has been seen countless times before. Yet with such a unique mode of storytelling, it highlights and brightens the entire scenario.

Dujardin has matinee idol good looks, perfectly fitting for the character, and Bejo’s image could easily be juxtaposed with the silent film stars of the era and feel perfectly in place. But it is how the two stars interact with each other while still wordlessly expressing emotion that shows the unique skill required. Both must rely on expression and body language to move each scene of the film, but both together and apart they convey and elicit impact throughout the film.

Complimenting the two stars are John Goodman as studio head Al Zimmer, James Cromwell as chauffeur Clifton, and Penelope Ann Miller as George’s wife, Doris. Each piece works in conjunction with the other to help propel a visually moving film.

Writer/director Michel Hazanavicius seems well suited for this style of filmmaking, deftly moving through the story while capturing the look and feel of the silent film era. He makes fine use of the score from composer Ludovic Bource, using it to emphasize the highs and lows throughout. In this film more than most others, the score is as important as the actors to each scene, and it fits the film. Some criticism has been made that it leans too heavily on the “Vertigo” score, but its effectiveness is not diminished.

When buying my tickets, I was warned that this was a silent, black and white film. I asked the box office worker if it was necessary to tell people this, and she replied that they had seen many walkouts from people who don’t want to watch that kind of film. It’s a shame to see people so stuck in the status quo that they won’t allow themselves to experience such a fantastic piece of filmmaking. Myself, there are many actors that I think would work better in silent films, or in the case of Channing Tatum, silent radio. But that’s just me.

With “The Artist,” what you see is what you get. It isn’t earth shaking, it won’t spur social change and it won’t strike many as “important.” But therein lies its charm.

It is a simple, familiar story told in a once traditional, now unfamiliar way. It is a tribute to the past, and a testament to its influence. And in the end, it’s just a whole lot of fun. Rating: Four Reels