I won't antagonize you for the supposed "audacity" of expressing a fully formed, well-articulated opinion. It's unfortunate that some people feel the need to do so, but in the present state of film discussion, this is true of all fandom outside of the "elite". People who feel a deep connection to a film sometimes have difficulty understanding other opinions because they come to associate the film not just on its own terms, but also with themselves. Especially in the case of films that are widely well-loved, crafting a sense of community, we sometimes build another identity with the films that we have seen, loved and invested time in.
Personally, Hugo is one of the best films I've seen this year, and points that you found detrimental to the film were what I, on the other hand, fell in love most with upon seeing them for myself: the romatic, loose, Jeunet-esque side characters (I don't think they were ever intended to be fully-fleshed, and nor should they have been: they work well with the dreamlike, excessively romantic depiction of Paris). Every single one of them are little pieces of a machine that need fixing, and like those small pieces, they may not seem awfully important in a strictly plot-centric sense but they add their own flavor, their own vitality to a larger whole. This is best reflected by the surprisingly human interpretation of the Station Inspector, who emphasizes the theme of humans being broken much like the central machine. This is a film that distills its themes down to their most basic sense, showing them in a simple, unpretentious, untangled way against the backdrop of a city where everything feels just a little bit impossible, just a little too lose to seem human to some of us.
Yes, the jump that the film makes to being almost exclusively about early cinema may not seem altogether expected, but I found it to be credible enough to work. There's one brilliant moment where Hugo's recollection of his father is introduced with noises from a projector, showing how movies have the ability to shape our perceptions of people who are only all too human. It is all about movies precisely in the sense that it is all about the mystery, about the humans - it's not necessarily about any of these things at its core, but they all have a strong relationship with each other as shown by the film. Like Hugo's friend and her books, the creative process is its own mystery that binds us all with its connective power.
I think the film won't work if you see it exclusively as a mystery, an adventure. It is all of those things and yet, strangely, not like them at all.
At the end of the day, the most magical moment of any film experience I've had this year was seeing one of the most iconic shots from early cinema - the rocket landing in the eye of the Man on the Moon - presented exactly as it is and always has been in 3D. That's a magic most big budget studio films lack, and all it is is one simple image presented for all to see just as it is.
I won't antagonize you for the supposed "audacity" of expressing a fully formed, well-articulated opinion. It's unfortunate that some people feel the need to do so, but in the present state of film discussion, this is true of all fandom outside of the "elite". People who feel a deep connection to a film sometimes have difficulty understanding other opinions because they come to associate the film not just on its own terms, but also with themselves. Especially in the case of films that are widely well-loved, crafting a sense of community, we sometimes build another identity with the films that we have seen, loved and invested time in.
Personally, Hugo is one of the best films I've seen this year, and points that you found detrimental to the film were what I, on the other hand, fell in love most with upon seeing them for myself: the romatic, loose, Jeunet-esque side characters (I don't think they were ever intended to be fully-fleshed, and nor should they have been: they work well with the dreamlike, excessively romantic depiction of Paris). Every single one of them are little pieces of a machine that need fixing, and like those small pieces, they may not seem awfully important in a strictly plot-centric sense but they add their own flavor, their own vitality to a larger whole. This is best reflected by the surprisingly human interpretation of the Station Inspector, who emphasizes the theme of humans being broken much like the central machine. This is a film that distills its themes down to their most basic sense, showing them in a simple, unpretentious, untangled way against the backdrop of a city where everything feels just a little bit impossible, just a little too lose to seem human to some of us.
Yes, the jump that the film makes to being almost exclusively about early cinema may not seem altogether expected, but I found it to be credible enough to work. There's one brilliant moment where Hugo's recollection of his father is introduced with noises from a projector, showing how movies have the ability to shape our perceptions of people who are only all too human. It is all about movies precisely in the sense that it is all about the mystery, about the humans - it's not necessarily about any of these things at its core, but they all have a strong relationship with each other as shown by the film. Like Hugo's friend and her books, the creative process is its own mystery that binds us all with its connective power.
I think the film won't work if you see it exclusively as a mystery, an adventure. It is all of those things and yet, strangely, not like them at all.
At the end of the day, the most magical moment of any film experience I've had this year was seeing one of the most iconic shots from early cinema - the rocket landing in the eye of the Man on the Moon - presented exactly as it is and always has been in 3D. That's a magic most big budget studio films lack, and all it is is one simple image presented for all to see just as it is.
Thank you for that explanation on the secondary characters. This I did not think about. It's quite an interesting concept.
Nevertheless, while that improved my image of them by a small margin, I still dislike their use. They take away from the film rather than add. I don't really care for their characters, even if they are the little moving parts of Paris. I care about Hugo and I want to see more about him.
I felt absolutely nothing when it was shown that Hugo lost his father. Why? Because the relationship is cookie cutter, simplistic, bare bones. How about instead of going off on irrelevant subplots that do not move the story along, you strengthen the connection between the audience, Hugo, and his father? How about instead of going off on irrelevant subplots that do not move the story along, you show the effects the drunkard uncle has on Hugo? If you want me to connect with these characters, make the development worthwhile instead of being basics shrouded in exquisite imagery. Not to mention that such scenes would stir emotion in the audience Hugo is aimed toward.
Pottermore username: DustBlade76
So Crucify the ego, before it's far too late, to leave behind this place so negative and blind and cynical. And you will come to find that we are all one mind, capable of all that's imagined and all conceivable.
So Crucify the ego, before it's far too late, to leave behind this place so negative and blind and cynical. And you will come to find that we are all one mind, capable of all that's imagined and all conceivable.
Comments
Personally, Hugo is one of the best films I've seen this year, and points that you found detrimental to the film were what I, on the other hand, fell in love most with upon seeing them for myself: the romatic, loose, Jeunet-esque side characters (I don't think they were ever intended to be fully-fleshed, and nor should they have been: they work well with the dreamlike, excessively romantic depiction of Paris). Every single one of them are little pieces of a machine that need fixing, and like those small pieces, they may not seem awfully important in a strictly plot-centric sense but they add their own flavor, their own vitality to a larger whole. This is best reflected by the surprisingly human interpretation of the Station Inspector, who emphasizes the theme of humans being broken much like the central machine. This is a film that distills its themes down to their most basic sense, showing them in a simple, unpretentious, untangled way against the backdrop of a city where everything feels just a little bit impossible, just a little too lose to seem human to some of us.
Yes, the jump that the film makes to being almost exclusively about early cinema may not seem altogether expected, but I found it to be credible enough to work. There's one brilliant moment where Hugo's recollection of his father is introduced with noises from a projector, showing how movies have the ability to shape our perceptions of people who are only all too human. It is all about movies precisely in the sense that it is all about the mystery, about the humans - it's not necessarily about any of these things at its core, but they all have a strong relationship with each other as shown by the film. Like Hugo's friend and her books, the creative process is its own mystery that binds us all with its connective power.
I think the film won't work if you see it exclusively as a mystery, an adventure. It is all of those things and yet, strangely, not like them at all.
At the end of the day, the most magical moment of any film experience I've had this year was seeing one of the most iconic shots from early cinema - the rocket landing in the eye of the Man on the Moon - presented exactly as it is and always has been in 3D. That's a magic most big budget studio films lack, and all it is is one simple image presented for all to see just as it is.
Nevertheless, while that improved my image of them by a small margin, I still dislike their use. They take away from the film rather than add. I don't really care for their characters, even if they are the little moving parts of Paris. I care about Hugo and I want to see more about him.
So Crucify the ego, before it's far too late, to leave behind this place so negative and blind and cynical. And you will come to find that we are all one mind, capable of all that's imagined and all conceivable.
I'm literally in love with her
So Crucify the ego, before it's far too late, to leave behind this place so negative and blind and cynical. And you will come to find that we are all one mind, capable of all that's imagined and all conceivable.