Hugo

 Hugo

Paramount Pictures, 2011

Directed by Martin Scorsese

Starring: Asa Butterfield, Chloe Moretz, Ben Kingsley

Four stars

Martin Scorsese is one of the biggest legends working in film today: he's made a career of exploring the psyche of damaged men, whether through films about crime, violence, personality disorders or anything in between. He has been a prominent presence in film throughout the past four decades, making such undisputed classics as Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and Goodfellas, films that are ranked among the greatest of all time. He's spent the last ten years exploring an actor/director relationship with Leonardo DiCaprio, directing him him in four films (and directing him to arguably his best performance in 2004's The Aviator), a relationship that mirrored his earlier career work with Robert DeNiro, who won the Best Actor Oscar for his work in Raging Bull. Despite all this, Scorsese never won either a Best Picture or Best Director Oscar until 2006, when the Academy gave both of those prizes to The Departed. Scorsese has at least one classic for every decade he's been active; I personally have not delved deep enough into his oeuvre to discuss many of his lesser known films, but after seeing his latest film, Hugo, from the historical fiction novel/picture book/graphic novel/something-in-between The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick, I think it could easily go on to be the definitive Scorsese film from this era.

The first time I saw a trailer for Hugo, I almost couldn't believe that it was a Martin Scorsese film. I'd read about it, of course, but I wasn't really familiar with the source material and, due to my lukewarm reaction to Scorsese's last film, last year's Shutter Island, it wasn't among my most anticipated films for the winter season. Hugo features very few of Scorsese's filmmaking cornerstones: it's a PG-rated family film whose protagonist isn't some damaged, violent male, but a boy who has lost everyone in his life, but who still maintains his curiosity, his will to live his life as he wants, and his love for cinema. And despite the fact that this character is an anomaly for Scorsese, it's also possible that it's the one he personally relates to the most. As a boy, Scorsese was the one looking out windows and watching the world go on around and without him, and that's the character that Hugo Cabret is at the beginning of this film. While I haven't read the source material, I've heard that Scorsese emphasizes the aspects of it that he felt the most personally connected to in his adaptation, and that shows, since the film isn't just a semi-autobiographical story for the director, but a love letter to cinema as well.

Scorsese's usual go-to actors are absent from this project as well, though Ben Kingsley also worked on Shutter Island. He plays Georges Méliès, a historical filmmaker and magician who essentially invented the art of special effects a century ago. In this film, he's been forgotten, left working at a toy shop in the train station where Hugo lives, and much like Hugo, he feels like the world is passing him by. Though his initial reactions to the boy are quite hostile, Hugo eventually discovers that Méliès was once a renowned filmmaker, and not only that, but one of his late father's favorites. With the help of Méliès' granddaugher, Isabelle (played wonderfully by Chloe Moretz, who seems to be becoming the go-to child actress these days) and a kindly film preservationist, Hugo reminds Méliès of his passion, talent and impact, and he revitalizes it.

While the film is expertly directed and beautifully acted by a rich ensemble cast (Sascha Baron Cohen as a comically villainous Train Station Inspector is especially notable for the comic relief he provides), Hugo is most notable in the technical categories, especially for it's art direction and cinematography, and I'm certain there hasn't been a more gorgeous looking film made this year. The expansive Parisian vistas that Hugo gazes across from the windows of the station are breathtaking, and a scene where he hangs from one of the hands on the station's clock is both beautiful and dizzying. Scorsese gleefully enjoys the moments when he gets to recreate bits and pieces of Méliès' films, and those recreations are absolutely radiant. Meanwhile, the train station becomes a living, breathing character itself, full of interesting personalities that are only developed in passing (obviously intentional, to reflect Hugo's point of view), and the opening moments, which utilize an extended tracking shot to depict Hugo's life in the walls of the station, drew me in immediately. The film is also shot in 3D, and while I didn't personally see it in that format, I've read nothing but good things about it. I have always seen 3D as a gimmicky bit of technology, and I normally opt out of seeing films in that format, since I believe many studios just use it to get an extra cash boost on their films, but according to various sources, Scorsese's use of the technology here is the most natural and innovative ever. It makes sense that Scorsese would put 3D technology to it's best use to date, especially since this film makes a big deal about the development of special effects. The Lumière Brothers' 1896 short film, Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat, which makes an appearance in this film, could be seen as the first instance of the modern 3D gimmick, as it solely depicts a train coming towards (and potentially out of) the screen; clearly Scorsese couldn't resist giving the scene the 3D treatment.

I found Hugo to be an enchanting and enrapturing experience, the kind of fantasy that would have swept me away as a kid, but which means even more to me now. The themes of friendship and family lead to a conclusion that is heartwarming and quite moving, and the film's look back at the history of cinema is arguably even more compelling. Not enough can be said about Asa Butterfield, who plays the title role with ability beyond his years, or Kingsley, who gives a fantastically understated performance here, but Scorsese is the star of this film, making it into the kind of passion project that is always a joy to see. I know it's a departure from his usual style and themes, but it's a reminder of what a terrific filmmaker he is, and I hope he will continue to take risks like this throughout the decade. While it does get a little slow at points, Hugo moves forward with a loving sense of wonderment that is never anything less than spellbinding, and for that, it is most certainly one of the best films of the year.