Hugo

Included in Brian's Best and Worst of 2011

Almost a year ago, I was leaving a movie theater when somebody handed me a flyer for a free early screening of Hugo; apparently, the title wasn't grabbing enough people, because he made sure to point out that it was Martin Scorsese's first 3D movie.  Obviously, as someone who enjoys the occasional film, I was very excited to see this movie and see how audience feedback would alter the final product.  I went through the proper steps to reserve a spot for me and the Mrs., but on the day of the screening, the location for the film was moved about 40+ miles from a convenient Chicago suburb to Chicago proper during rush hour traffic.  Since reaching the convenient neighborhood location was going to be a close call, this change of venues made it an impossibility.  What does this have to do with anything?  Aside from supporting claims that AMC Theaters is made of jerkfaces, very little.

Hugo's secret screening title: Reverse Flava Flav - the Movie, Boyeeee

Hugo follows the life and times of Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield), an orphan in 1930s Paris.  Hugo lives an invisible life inside a train station, where he maintains all the clocks in the building and sleeps in the walls.  How did he get there?  Just about anywhere is better than the Paris orphanage, apparently.  Since nobody knows he exists, Hugo isn't paid for his labors, which means that he has to scavenge and steal to get along.  If he gets caught, or is even suspected of a crime or of being an orphan, the station inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen) will lock him up and send him to the orphanage.

"Be on the lookout for gingers without pupils"

Aside from sustenance, Hugo is also collecting parts to repair a clockwork automaton that Hugo and his late father (Jude Law) found.  Working on the device had been a bonding experience for the two, and Hugo has the unreasonable expectation that the automaton, when fixed, will transmit a message to Hugo from his father.  How he came to that conclusion, I don't know.  But, hey, it's not like Hugo's ever built an automaton that didn't transmit messages from beyond the grave, so I can't totally fault his logic.

Why would you create a robotic pygmy?  Unless...the children are giants...!

To get the parts for the automaton, Hugo pays particular attention to a toy shop in the train station, run by Georges (Ben Kingsley).  Being a grouch, but not an idiot, Georges has noticed the quiet boy loitering near his stand and has made a connection to parts that have gone missing.  Georges threatens to turn Hugo in to the station inspector, unless he works off his presumed debt at the shop.  When he's not working at the shop, Hugo befriends Georges' orphaned goddaughter, Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz); she introduces Hugo to the world of books and he introduces her to the world of cinema.  Ultimately, we all know the automaton has to be finished, but the final piece and the automaton's message take the film in a direction you might not expect.  Unless you read a plot synopsis or the book, I mean.

Hugo is a noticeable stylistic departure for director Martin Scorsese for many reasons, but I'm specifically referring to it not being propelled by a particular actor's performance.  The two leads are some of the better child actors around right now, but they don't steal the show.

They still look smug, though

Asa Butterfield is believable in both his childishness and his stubborn determination; I was also impressed by how well he managed the demanding emotional scenes.   Chloë Grace Moretz continues her surprisingly respectable filmography here (she hasn't been in anything too embarrassing for her age, except Big Momma's House 2), although I was slightly irritated by her voice in this film.  I don't know if it was an accent or an affectation, but she was good aside from that.  The supporting cast is noteworthy, although few got the chance to shine.  Ben Kingsley, as the top-billed actor, was predictably good; Kingsley doesn't always act in good movies, but pairing him with a great director makes for good stuff.  I like seeing characters balance prickishness and warmth, and that's what Kingsley delivered here.  I was far less impressed with Sacha Baron Cohen; I get that this is a children's movie and not a Scorsese gangster pick, but I felt that Cohen's physical comedy was clumsy and...well, unfunny.  I was okay with the rest of the supporting cast, though.  Helen McCrory may be far too young to play Kingsley's wife, but her makeup was tastefully done. 

You look about 70, your wife is about 40...nice job, man

Ray Winstone, an excellent film ne'er-do-well, was suitably nasty as an uncaring alcoholic.  Jude Law was charming and loving as Hugo's father.  Christopher Lee shows up to be friendly (in a creepy way).  Meanwhile, Emily Mortimer filled out the station inspector's subplot and Harry Potter alums Frances de la Tour and Richard Griffiths had their own romantic subplot.

The thing about Hugo that struck me as odd was how inconsequential the hero was to so many parts of the plot.  When the film began I thought it was obvious that he would try to help de la Tour and Griffiths overcome their dog-related problems and find love.  At the very least, I thought he would have a hand in the station inspector falling in love, which would inevitably lead to the inspector giving him a free pass when Hugo was inevitably caught.  It might have been a tad predictable, but that never hurt Amelie, did it?  And yet, none of that actually happened in Hugo.  The main character takes no action in these subplots, and they do not appear to affect him in any way that fits the film's theme.  So why are they included?  I don't have that answer.

Sadly, it doesn't require a heart-shaped key

Of course, it is not just the subplots that have little to do with Hugo and his quest to reconnect with his dead father.  The main plot veers off from a touching --- if ill-advised --- quest of a young boy trying to (essentially) make the impossible happen (reconstruct the automaton) so something even less possible (his father communicating to him from beyond) could happen and winds up finishing with a touching story about the importance of film preservation.  As someone who enjoys many films made before my birth, I understand and appreciate film preservation; I would pay through the nose for a good copy of His Girl Friday and have been contemplating upgrading my awful copy of Charade for its Criterion Collection version.  That does not mean that this is necessarily the right venue for a treatise on film preservation. 

But who am I to refuse that adorable mustache?

Despite my reservations, Hugo is a very well-directed and -acted film.  Big surprise, right?  Hugo gained some attention for being Martin Scorsese's first 3D film, so I suppose I should examine how well he did in this new/1950s format.  The short answer is "good."  There are not a lot of movies that make good use of 3D.  For every Avatar, there are at least six Clash of the Titans.  Thankfully, this is a movie that uses 3D for depth, rather than for machetes stabbing the audience.  The 3D isn't essential, but it looks good and makes some of the clock scenes far more interesting than they would have been otherwise.  Outside of the 3D, Scorsese did a great job.  It has been a long time since he has made a risky movie (in my opinion, I would say Kundun was his last big risk), but adapting a children's book was fairly ballsy for a man known more for elevating Joe Pesci than his last family-friendly outing, the music video for Michael Jackson's "Bad."


Am I the only one who forgot about the keyboard solo in this song?  I love call-and-response as much as the next guy, but  how does Wesley Snipes not shoot MJ in the face here?  Still, it is a pleasure to see a master director at work.  He manages to blend conventional premises with the source material and winds up with a story that is surprisingly surprising and not nearly as conventional as it initially seems.  Most importantly, though, Scorsese succeeds in his ultimate mission; I have to admit that, after seeing this film, I went home and quickly researched Georges Méliès (who directed an astonishing 555 movie shorts in less than twenty years) and was suitably impressed by what I saw.  If that is not the ultimate goal of Hugo, I don't know what is.

Is Hugo a great film, worthy of comparison to Scorsese's best work?  Definitely not.  It absolutely is, though, adorable and heart-warming.  This is a nostalgic movie, disguised as something that kids might want to see, and it is disguised well.  Is Hugo manipulative?  Oh, lord, yes.  Thankfully, it doesn't leave you feeling dirty, like Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.  It is not a whole lot better than that film, though, for similar reasons.  It barely made it into my top ten of last year, but it is still worth watching, especially if you have a fondness for older films.  This may not make you want to watch silent movies, but it is at least as effective as The Artist.

My first exposure to Georges Méliès was this music video from Smashing Pumpkins.  I don't know what made Billy Corgan choose this as a theme for his video, but it is still pretty cool.

GoodFellas

When GoodFellas, a mobster story that spanned over thirty years, was released in 1990, Ray Liotta was 36 years old and his co-stars, Robert DeNiro and Joe Pesci, were both 47.  When they first pop up in the movie, they are supposed to be in their early twenties (except DeNiro, who was supposed to be around thirty).  Sure, they aged somewhat throughout the film, but until you see DeNiro put on reading glasses in the last quarter of the movie, it's pretty insignificant stuff.  I point this out because most movies would take strides to make these actors look younger, a la Patrick Stewart in X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Why doesn't director Martin Scorsese bother to disguise the age of his actors?  Probably for the same reason most viewers don't notice it: because this is a cool movie and, like the wise guys they portray, these actors can get away with murder as far as America's concerned.

This is the life story of Henry Hill (Ray Liotta), an Irish kid in New York whose life dream was to be a mobster.  At a young age, he began to run (often illegal) errands for the local mob boss, Paulie Cicero (Paul Sorvino).  As he grew older, he befriended the hot-tempered Tommy DeVito (Joe Pesci) and the danger-loving Jimmy "The Gent" Conway (Robert DeNiro).  Together, they began hijacking trucks and lived life as young men with money often do; they drank all night, went to clubs, and enjoyed female companionship.  This continued for years, and was capped by Henry's courtship and marriage to a local girl, Karen (Lorraine Brocco).  This movie is clearly a love letter to the mobster lifestyle, with all its freedom, power and vices.  That much freedom, power and vice left unchecked will inevitably lead to a desire for more of each, though.  As Henry and his friends moved from up-and-comers in their mob family to essentially independent operators, their adventures are played for higher stakes.  Hijacking trucks with willing drivers gave way to multimillion dollar heists, organized by Jimmy.  Instead of sticking with low-risk enterprises like gambling, Henry started dealing drugs. And Tommy...well, his temper started to become the stuff of legend.  With higher stakes, the lifestyle became less friendly and more dangerous, less about the crew and more about survival.


What makes GoodFellas a great movie is its attitude.  The film opens with Ray Liotta's voice-over, famously claiming that "as far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster."   That's pretty different from most film portrayals of mobsters, right?  Even in The Godfather, Michael never wanted in on the "family business."  Anyone can understand the allure of money and power, but even the most romanticized mob films show a horrible price to be paid for such indulgences.  That eventual comeuppance is inevitable for any big time gangster, but the attraction toward that danger is what sets this movie apart from its mob movie brethren.  We watch Henry Hill, Tommy DeVito, and Jimmy Conway do whatever they want to whoever they want for decades, just waiting for the hammer to eventually drop.  And when it does, there is no moment of repentance or remorse.  We just get Ray Liotta's voice-over again, telling us how ordinary civilian life, free from drugs, police, murder, and betrayal is basically for schmucks.  And we agree with him.

Interesting tidbit: GoodFellas drops about 300 F-bombs in its 145 minute run, averaging over 2 "fucks" per minute, the ninth most for any feature film. While cursing is certainly not a benchmark for quality cinema, that is an astonishing number.

The acting and directing in this movie is superb.  While Scorsese is not at his showiest here, he handles things well and oftentimes puts the camera in a position so that the viewer feels like more of a spectator, which just reconfirms the movie's fascination with the wise guy lifestyle.  As for the acting, Joe Pesci deservedly won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his role.  He was loud, obnoxious, and occasionally frightening with his nonchalant attitude toward violence.  And yet, he managed to be kind of funny.  That's a tough balance to strike.  Ray Liotta is certainly more sympathetic in the lead role, but his character's purpose is to react to the mob lifestyle, so his solid performance pales in comparison to his co-lead actors.  Lorraine Brocco did a pretty good job in her supporting role, but I think she usually gets too little credit for her role in the movie; as Karen, she not only provides the "civilian" reactions to the wise guy life, but she shares the narrative.  Karen's role is often overlooked because this is such a guy movie, but the movie is told from her point of view, too, and Brocco's performance (particularly with her voice-overs) helps keep this movie from spinning into a caricature of mob life.  As far as the rest of the cast goes, they're serviceable.  Paul Sorvino is capable of some surprisingly imposing silences, but he's the highlight of the supporting cast.  Michael Imperioli and Samuel L. Jackson both make noteworthy cameos, though.

I enjoy this movie on a lot of levels, but it has never been one of my favorite Scorsese films.  Sure, it's pretty awesome, but it's soooooo looooooong!  It's not even super long at 146 minutes, but it feels about as long as The Return of the King.  Why?  I'm not sure.  Aside from using the camera to follow characters like they're celebrities, Scorsese's direction is pretty cut and dried.  The problem is certainly not the acting.  Both DeNiro and Pesci are fascinating to watch.  I think my problem with this film is the position it takes.  Not the moral position of celebrating an outlaw culture; that's pretty cool.  I'm talking about the point-of-view character.  While Henry is part of the action, he's never the most interesting character on the screen.  He's kind of like Smalls from The Sandlot, watching the greatness of Benny the Jet.  Lots of movies choose a voyeuristic POV character, but since this movie is (more or less) set up as a Henry Hill biopic, I think his character should be the most interesting cast member.  Would this movie work better from Jimmy or Tommy's point of view?  Not as the story stands, no.  I just think that, in a biopic-type movie, the main character's accomplishments should be the most dramatic and memorable ones; if you want to use a less memorable character to tell the story, fine, but use the movie to frame a more compact set of events.  As it stands, though, I see this a a major failure in the storytelling department.

Aside from my admittedly unusual personal problem with this movie, GoodFellas is an unabashed classic.  There has never been a film that depicted the life of a mobster so gloriously, and yet showed all the horror that comes with it.  For that, it deserves all the respect it has earned over the years.  Aside from The Godfather Part II, this might be the ultimate gangster movie.  It's not a masterpiece, though, with all due respect.

Shutter Island

It's difficult to write about a thriller or mystery movie because nobody wants to be That Guy who reveals that Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's Keyser Soze.  This presents me with a challenge: to ramble on at length without being That Guy.  I think I can manage that, but this is a mystery movie, so it has a twist.  That's as much of a spoiler as I'm going to give you.

Adapted from Dennis Lehane's best-selling book of the same name, Shutter Island has more than a few similarities to Lehane's Mystic River.  Boy, that Lehane has a tough life; a best-selling author who gets his books optioned into movies that are directed by some of the most talented directors in the world.  You would think he'd write happier tales.  Anyway, both Mystic River and Shutter Island are mysteries that rely heavily on their characters' secrets to reach their logical conclusion.

Here, we have Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio), a US Marshall that volunteered for a case that would give him an excuse to poke around Shutter Island, a maximum security mental hospital for the criminally insane.  On the ferry ride to the island, Daniels meets his new partner, Chuck (Mark Ruffalo), and they enter the facility together.  They are ostensibly there to investigate the disappearance of Rachel Solando (Emily Mortimer), a patient --- not a prisoner! --- that managed to escape the facility, despite a locked door, barred windows, no shoes, rugged terrain, and several guards stationed throughout the building.  That doesn't sound like an inside job at all, does it?  Rachel was incarcerated for drowning her three children.  The real reason for Daniels' visit is to learn the fate of Andrew Laeddis (Elias Koteas), the pyromaniac that burned down Daniels' home with his wife (Michelle Williams) inside.  Laeddis was assigned to the facility after going to jail, but his paper trail ended on Shutter Island...but no one admits to knowing him.  Once inside the facility, Daniels and Chuck meet Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley), a practitioner of humane treatment for the mentally ill, and Dr. Naehring (Max von Sydow), a member of the old-school of psychiatric treatment that prefers lobotomy over patience.

From the start of the investigation, nothing goes Daniels' way.  The facility guards refuse him entrance while armed, so he has to give up his gun.  He asks for files that are clearly commonsense ways for him to get the essential information he needs, but he is blocked by the facility's bureaucracy at every turn.  He lost his cigarettes before the boat arrived at the island, and is forced to bum smokes from his new partner.  Orderlies and nurses are sarcastic and generally less than helpful.  The patients he interviews appear coached and seem afraid when he questions them about Andrew Laeddis.  When he faces the truth that the doctors are refusing to aid his case, Daniels can't even leave the island because a hurricane is on its way.  With nothing else to do, Daniels continues his investigation.  Clearly, there is some secret that is being covered up, and he is determined to discover that truth.  He eventually meets with an old informant (Jackie Earle Haley) that is now confined in the most violent ward of the facility, who seems to confirm Daniels' greatest fear; Daniels can uncover the truth behind the island and blow the lid off the whole conspiracy, or he can find out what happened to Andrew Laeddis.  He cannot do both.  The question is what is more important to Daniels: uncovering a terrible truth for the world to see, or finding (killing?) the man responsible for the death of his wife?

Martin Scorsese's direction really stands out in this film, particularly because of Daniels' dreams.  Daniels is suffering from a string of nightmares, hallucinations and waking dreams that are reminding him of his late wife and the Dachau concentration camp that he helped liberate in World War II.  In the dream world, identities are transposed, but the emotions are not.  Memories are shown, but they are spliced with his own subconscious.  At times, the imagery is a little trippy, like when his cigarette briefly smokes in reverse.  Other times, it is sad, as when his wife becomes ash in his arms while he professes his love for her.  And yet other times are the stuff of nightmares, with Holocaust children accusing him of not doing enough to save them.  Scorsese is given free reign to use a lot of symbolism in these scenes, and he throws a lot at the viewer.  In a lot of Scorsese films, he makes good use of camera angles and general cinematography to imply moods or hint at his characters' frame of mind.  He does that in Shutter Island, as well, but he has a lot more freedom to get creative, thanks to the dream scenes.

As far as acting goes, it is all pretty much above board.  Leonardo DiCaprio is consistently good, and working so frequently with Scorsese seems to have taught him the value of subtlety and nuance.  I'm not saying that he was ever an over-actor, but there are a lot of little things he does with his character that I appreciate, from the hunched shoulders and bold stance to the frequent (but not horribly obvious) reminders of his character's tendency for migraine headaches.  DiCaprio carries this movie on his own, but there are a lot of good supporting cast members that briefly pop up.  Mark Ruffalo does a pretty good job as the junior partner and his compassion shows through consistently.  Ben Kingsley and Max von Sydow both play their parts well, but what else would you expect from two respected actors?  Ted Levine has a very brief, but frightening, cameo as the facility warden.  Jackie Earle Haley appears to be having a career renaissance playing disturbed characters, and that pleasant trend continues here with some of the more curious wound makeup I have seen in a while.  Michelle Williams was impressive in her small supporting role and was used effectively.  The rest of the cast (including Patricia Clarkson, Emily Mortimer, and John Carroll Lynch) is good too, but perhaps not as attention-grabbing.

Even with good direction and good acting, a mystery movie can still be underwhelming if the mystery is no good.  I really liked the story in Shutter Island, even though I was not particularly surprised by the ending.  Normally, if I guess the ending to a mystery correctly, it bothers me a bit.  Here, though, Scorsese drops a lot of hints that flesh out the story and the characters.  While one side effect of those choices was a less than surprising answer to the mystery, it was also satisfying because the twist made sense.  You still might not guess the ending correctly (or, at least, not entirely correctly), but you won't feel as if the end came out of left field.  Since the movie spent so much time on Daniels' subconscious mind, the mystery really takes a back seat to that as the primary plot propeller.  As such, the surprise-worthiness of the ending turned out to be a lot less important than I thought it would be.

This is the sort of film that college students love to write about.  It has excellent direction with a lot of stylistic choices and meaningful symbolism and imagery.  After the movie, you can revisit scenes in your head (or just re-watch the scenes on your DVD) and pick out important details that you missed the first time through.  This is a movie that I expect to be better the second time I watch it because being fully informed of the story will allow me to understand many of the scenes from a different angle next time.  While I completely understand anyone who enjoyed the movie less because the mystery's answer was a little predictable, I thoroughly enjoyed the story, acting and the film as a whole the first time through, and look forward to a repeat viewing.  I may be a little artsy fartsy with movies sometimes, but I appreciate good craftsmanship when I see it.