'Hugo' review

Published Nov 26 2011, 13:07 GMT  |  By Ben Rawson-Jones

The magical nature of cinema is explored in Martin Scorsese's thoughtful family blockbuster. Largely spellbinding from beginning to end, Hugo's alternating heartwarming and heartbreaking nature is the result of a poignant narrative, masterful direction and a superb multi-generational cast. Despite much technical wizardry, it still manages to feel pure.

Blending fact and fantasy, this adaptation of Brian Selznick's novel The Invention of Hugo Cabret stars Asa Butterfield as the titular orphan who resides in a 1930s Paris train station. Relying on thieving for survival, Hugo devotes his time to trying to figure out how to fix his late father's automaton - a mechanical figure he believes holds a message.

Hugo continually scrawls diagrams in a notebook, which is taken from him by the station's tetchy toyshop owner (Sir Ben Kingsley) - fed up with the boy's stealing. Attempts to prise back his possession leads Hugo to befriend his nemesis's bookworm goddaughter Isabelle (Moretz) - and propels them on an engrossing adventure. Can Hugo fix the broken heart of an old man and the automaton's clockwork before Sacha Baron Cohen's copper puts him in the orphanage?

Scorsese frames the story within a luscious depiction of Paris, using that as a canvas to deploy some technical brilliance. The extended opening shot swoops through the rooftops and into the steampunk station before scurrying through the dark recesses to encounter Hugo's sorrowful visage. This sequence immerses us within the environment, echoing the iconic Goodfellas Steadicam nightclub sequence. Similarly, fantastic use of 3D - a rarity - enhances rather than detracts from the narrative.

The illusionary nature of early silent cinema also comes to the fore as the plot progresses - harking back to the pioneering days of A Trip to the Moon director Georges Méliès and his audacious methods. It creates a marvellous juxtaposition, as we observe in 3D a man using scissors and tape to edit a film back in the early 20th Century.

Although it is hard to grasp just how shocked early cinema audiences felt when they first saw a train hurtle towards them on the big screen, Scorsese has nonetheless managed to create a potent sense of awe with what we witness. In many ways, Hugo is one man's love letter to cinema.

Despite these superlatives, it's not all perfection. There is a lull midway through due to the repetitive 'dog and mouse' chases and dream sequences that are high on spectacle but low on narrative relevance. Fortunately this doesn't last too long, as the story shifts to focus on Hugo's real storytelling meat - the past fortunes and failings of Méliès.

Sacha Baron Cohen's gendarme is sporadically problematic, with a nuanced accent that's an unwelcome distraction. His visual appearance ensures that the makers of any Arthur Bostrom biopic will be dialing his number once that dream project of the 'Allo 'Allo! star is greenlit. Aside from this (good) moaning, his character does ultimately transcend its caricature trappings courtesy of a sweet subplot with Emily Mortimer's coy damsel.

At the movie's core is a mesmerising turn from Sir Ben Kingsley, who adds so much depth to a man who has closed the door on a painful past. To go into more detail could ruin a few surprises, but it's thoroughly affecting. In a smaller role as his wife, Helen McCrory also shines, while the imposing figure of Sir Christopher Lee lends dramatic weight as a bookshop owner.

Comparatively lacking in experience, Asa Butterfield and Chloë Moretz are never out of their depth. The former imbues streetwise Hugo with a mournful sense of innocence and wonder, while Moretz possesses a disarming sweetness, bandying about words of a more mellifluous nature than those she spewed out in Kick Ass. Scorsese is a great talent spotter, having set Jodie Foster on the road to acclaim in Taxi Driver.

A powerful reminder of the magic of cinema and Martin Scorsese's astounding versatility, the entertaining and educational Hugo deserves to be a major success. Just like George Méliès was inspired to experiment with the filmic form after stumbling across a short by the Lumière Brothers in the late 1800s, perhaps a future moviemaking great could be inspired by this feature. It certainly resonates with you long after you've left the cinema...