Hugo is a film about dreams. It’s also about childhood and wonder and many other pure and heartfelt things that feel a bit surprising to be coming from Martin Scorsese, who is often (wrongly) labeled as a director who glorifies violence and toxic lifestyles. Although Scorsese’s filmography has always transcended the labels that have been placed on him, Hugo represents an even greater departure from any of his works, yet the story of this film fits him in such an evident way as it deals with the power and enchantment of cinema, but also the heartbreak that comes with working as an artist.
Centering on a young orphan, Hugo (Asa Butterfield), with a skill for fixing machines and a fascination for cinema, the story follows his quest to fix a mysterious automaton that him and his father used to work on together. Along the way, he meets another young orphan, Isabelle (Chloe Grace Moretz), who helps him with the automaton and a great many other things. In a heartwarming scene, Hugo introduces Isabelle to films, repaying her for introducing him to the library. As the film continues and more clues are unraveled, we learn about (and come to sympathize with) the great French filmmaker and illusionist Georges Méliès (Ben Kingsley) who plays a big part in Hugo’s quest with the automaton. And once Méliès enters the story is when things get really, really good. This is where the film shines as you can feel Scorsese’s joy and excitement for film start to really come through. Anyone familiar with Scorsese’s way of speech knows that he has the incredible ability to rapidly list off title after title of films, smiling as he describes their impact on him, filling himself and others with a pure childlike joy (I’m not exaggerating here). And it is this same joy that is captured in the filmmaking here as Scorsese brings life to the beautiful story of Méliès and his groundbreaking work as a filmmaker seen through the childlike eyes of Hugo. We see one master give honor and homage to another, but never in the sacrifice of story, as Méliès is written beautifully into the heart of Hugo’s journey. I have to talk about one beautiful scene in which Méliès watches a film reel of his old work with a smile on his face. I’m reminded of a recent interview with Scorsese for his latest film, The Irishman, in which he discusses many scenes when he couldn’t help but crack up laughing on set as they filmed moments that he loved, his smile too big to contain. There’s a beautiful metaphor in there somewhere about one master smiling at another’s work within his own. Like the machines and magic tricks in the movie, it’s a labor of love.
The last 30 minutes is moving and wonderful. It not only caps off Hugo’s story in a satisfying and wholesome way, but it makes you appreciate the passion that goes into a work like this. Whether it be an automaton, a magic trick, or a film, they all ultimately represent the same thing: our dreams. (Is that cheesy? I don’t care.)
P.S. I didn’t even mention Scorsese’s unique and wonderful use of animation and 3D to enhance the film. It might be slightly distracting, but I’m sure it dazzles people in a way that Méliès would’ve been proud of.