Sometimes I just want to say, "See this movie!", without any explanations. Hugo is one of those movies.
But this is a review, so I have to give you something. I'll give you this: Hugo is enchanting. It's magical. And like all magic tricks, the less you know about it, the better. But unlike the
typical magic trick, this story is true. And that's quite a trick for a story that begins with a little boy who lives in a train station.
Director Martin Scorsese is known for his dramatic edge, so it comes as quite a surprise to see him making a holiday film with a PG rating and a children's theme. Don't let that theme and rating deceive you, however; this film is a masterpiece of subtle allusion, deep emotion, and satisfying metaphor.
In many respects Hugo is a paean to movie making itself — which raises the film far above the typical holiday release. Watch for allusions to great movies of the silent era. Even Hugo 's setting inside a train station is a tribute to the very first motion picture, which simply showed a train pulling out of a station. Audiences jumped out of their seats in terror, thinking they would be hit by the speeding object. That's the magic of illusion. And fear of a speeding train is part of the magic in Hugo.
Scorsese's decision to film Hugo in 3-D is also a tribute to the pioneers of movie making, who went to great lengths to create a sense of depth and reality in their films. Hugo reveals some of the early tricks, thus becoming a history of cinematic art as well as a great piece of art itself.
Hugo (Asa Butterfield) is a boy of about eight who lives behind the walls of a Paris train station during the 1930s. Unbeknownst to the people in the station below him, he takes care of the numerous clocks by winding them daily and fixing their works when they wear out or break. From his ceiling roost he watches the quirky, almost cartoonish characters below him, and he watches over them as well.
To the Station Inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen), however, Hugo is just one of many little street urchins who pilfer food from the station shops and belong in the local orphanage. The Inspector has been injured in the war and wears a mechanical brace on his leg. He, too, is broken — almost like Hans Christian Andersen's "Steadfast Tin Soldier." His character is both menacing and endearing, especially when he gears up the courage to talk to the station's flower-shop girl (Emily Mortimer).
Hugo can fix anything — clocks, windup toys, and even a robotic "automaton" that his father (Jude Law) has found in a museum. His vision of the world as a giant machine brings comfort to him in his loneliness. "There is never an extra piece in a machine," he tells a young girl who befriends him (Chloe Grace Moretz). "Every part has a purpose. So I must have a purpose too."
In a sense, Scorsese is that little boy who can fix things. With the magic of film he rights a wrong that was perpetrated almost a hundred years ago. And he does it with a film that is wondrous, luminous, and entertaining.
Go see Hugo. Let the magic envelop you. Get caught up in its tale of dreams brought to life. Then spend a few minutes on the internet finding out how the trick was done. You will be astounded to learn the background of this amazing story. But I won't give you a single hint until you've seen the show for yourself.
