Movie Review: Hugo

          Let's talk about 3-D. For years, I've been saying that 3-D works best with animation. I've also been saying it should not be treated as a gimmick, but as an element. A tool. Like color, which quickly became the norm of cinema, 3-D should be used as one gear in a large machine. Animation seems to handle this philosophy best, seeing as computer animation has only recently gone from gimmick status to element status in the last decade.

         3-D is commonly employed poorly in live action films. It sometimes works well, Avatar being a nice example (although, really, one could easily consider Avatar a computer animated film), but it is usually used for movies that would otherwise have nothing interesting to offer. The producers fund a lousy film under the promise that the swords will come flying out the screen and the three to four dollar surcharge will come flying out of wallets, not because the film's story can be modified in any way by this extra dimension. Avatar made such an impact because the world James Cameron created felt completely immersive. The film was about virtual bodies becoming real, dreams becoming tangible. The third dimension added a layer of depth to the overall intent of the film. I cannot say the same for The Green Hornet, Clash of the Titans, The Last Airbender, or any other totally valid reasons that people often give for not liking 3-D. Why pay the extra money? It's never worth it.

       Here's the problem. 3-D technology is extremely impressive. When used effectively, the technology can add depth and wonder to the cinematography of a film. However, when used poorly, the technology faces extinction. We are in a transitional period. Like the introduction of color, we are faced with low-caliber variations of a phenomenal tool. For instance, many people believe that The Wizard of Oz was the first color film. It wasn't. People just believe that because the color was used to aid the story, to give the land of Oz depth, and to show people how the technique can revolutionize the way moving pictures can be experienced.

      In a way, this is the story of film. When the Lumiere brothers made their first film of a train moving toward the camera, filmmaking was seen as a triviality. A sideshow gimmick. It took decades for film to be as respected as it is today. And, in some circles, film is still not quite as appreciated as literature or painting.

      Which brings us to Hugo.

       
         Martin Scorsese has made a name for himself in recent years for spearheading an ambitious film preservation society. He has given numerous talks, and made several documentary shorts, in order to spread the news that old films are disappearing each day. And, as one of the most knowledgeable film historians in the world, Scorsese has done pretty well with the campaign. And when I saw Scorsese's masterful, gorgeous new film Hugo, I couldn't help but wonder if any other filmmaker could have pulled off such a watchable educational film concerning cinema preservation.

        Movies are at the heart of Hugo, Scorsese's first 3-D film, and he uses the medium not only to wow audiences with impressive visuals, but to also comment on the film's overall message.

       The film concerns a forgotten silent filmmaker whose entire filmography has been destroyed for the sake of shoe heels (it makes sense in the movie), and how devastating this treatment of film was to the genius filmmakers who were left behind after the world wars.


         Hugo is about film as an art form. It is about the director as artist. It reminds us that there was a time when special effects were new. That the visual wizardry of filmmaking was once shocking, surprising, awe-inspiring. That filmmakers used to be scoffed at for making populist drivel, even while they were producing some of the most incredible work of any artist at the time. At its heart, Hugo is about the relationship between an artist and his/her tools. For the early filmmakers, their tool was considered nothing more than a gimmick, a phase, a temporary distraction from real art. And, as I said earlier, 3-D is the new gimmick.

      Scorsese, one of the most celebrated living filmmakers, was criticized for choosing to make his newest film in 3-D. The fad, as some say, has worn out its welcome. I beg to differ. The fad is not wearing out its welcome, bad use of the technique is. Now that we're finally getting master filmmakers behind 3-D cameras (Werner Herzog, Wim Wenders, to name some Germans), audiences can now decide for themselves whether 3-D is their thing.


      Hugo utilizes 3-D in a way that I have never seen outside of a theme park. The opening shot actually turns your stomach, in the best way possible, when it zooms through a busy train station and weaves around halls and ladders. The photography is kinetic and exciting. The depth is incredible, the shot compositions perfectly suited to the technology, and Scorsese feels right at home with the extra responsibility.

      Also at home are Asa Butterfield and Chloe Moretz, the two young leads of the film. Butterfield in particular, as the titular character, brings warmth and emotion to his role--much needed elements for the mostly silent performance he gives. Moretz plays the opposite of her Kick-Ass character, Hit Girl, as she is an innocent, bookish girl who is terrified of getting into mischief. Moretz grounds the film with her calm, old-soul presence. The two leads play well off of each other, and they are benefitted from the excellent script by John Logan.

     Hugo is a beautiful film. I highly recommend that you go see it, and I cannot stress enough how great the 3-D is here. But you have to meet the film halfway. If you don't want 3-D to be used as a gimmick, don't expect it to act like one. The extra dimension is just that, an extra dimension. This does not mean stuff flies in your face constantly. This means that there is an extra layer of depth to the screen. The shot compositions have become more complicated, and more interesting, because of this technology. Okay? Okay.

I give Hugo 9/10 released Krakens

Underrated: Observe & Report

          I know it's easy, but don't blame Paul Blart. Really, don't do it. It isn't worth it. You know why? Because people ate up Paul Blart. He was a hit at the box office. And the way people are eating up sequels these days, they would have eaten him up again. Had the cheap jokes of Paul Blart persisted in this other mall cop film, Observe & Report, then things would have been peachy. Fortunately for us, instead of another Paul Blart, audiences got Ronnie Barnhardt.
          "What's the difference?" you say. Well, for starters, Paul Blart had a heart of gold. He tried to do good while performing, as some bribed critics would say, "hilarious hijinks."
          Ronnie Barnhardt does not do good. Ever. In fact, he does mostly bad. He has every intention of being a great guy, but he's a sociopath. And very rarely does a sociopath's intention of good equate to actual good. For example, Ronnie's idea of doing good police work is killing crackheads in cold blood. Okay, perhaps they didn't quite die, but he may have used some excessive force. And if that scene wasn't enough for you, watch the ending of the film. It won't be spoiled for you here, but lets just say there is more excessive force used.
           Ronnie Barnhardt's story did not meet much success. It is one of the lowest grossing Seth Rogen films ever released, and one of the critically despised films in his repertoire. But why? What is so wrong with this film? I mean, people have very serious reactions to it. Just look at some of the reviews online. Yikes. People react strongly to the violence, to its cynicism, to its anger. The film is mean-spirited and never lets up. Nobody wins, nobody changes for the better, and nothing is learned. Why would anybody want to see a film about a sociopath with a mundane job who creates a false catharsis for the audience by performing acts of unnecessary violence?
          Wait, actually, that sounds like a familiar plot. It sounds like some universally beloved film that has gone on to become an American classic.

Hint, Hint

          But Taxi Driver wasn't a comedy. It was serious. It had all sorts of drama and what some new, hip critics call "badassery," which is just another word for unnecessary, yet stylish violence. What makes Scorsese's film a masterpiece and Jody Hill's film too vicious and stupid to watch? They're essentially the same film. Only, Taxi Driver was a drama. This man is sick and depraved and his drama is somehow important because of this. Ronnie Barnhardt, equally depraved, is reduced to a bad fart joke by most critics because critics are watching this film as a straight comedy.
          Don't get me wrong, before we go any further, this is a comedic film. 
          However, I would not call Observe & Report a comedy. Comedies, by an antiquated definition, are supposed to have happy endings. This one does not (perhaps arguable, make that argument in the comments section). Comedies are also supposed to make you laugh.
          This film achieves the goal of making its audience laugh, but to what end? How far will the audience follow this film? I saw Observe & Report twice in the theaters. Once by myself, and the second time (in retrospect a bad decision) with my girlfriend. Both times I saw the film I noticed something strange about the audience.
         I was part of a very select few people who were still laughing after half an hour. Particularly after a scene that takes place a half hour into the film. After this certain scene, people rejected the film's attempts at humor. They sat, motionless, waiting for their ten dollar torture chamber to turn its lights back on.
          And it hit me, leaving the theater on both occasions, why they stopped laughing. The protagonist became completely unlikable. We were stuck in a comedy starring a man with no morals.
          Not only that, but it was Seth Rogen up there committing murder, performing date rapes (no argument, here), beating up children, and doing cocaine in a mall bathroom. At the time, we had come to expect Seth Rogen to be a certain character. We expected him to be the sort-of dumb, sort-of funny man child who has a good heart, not to be a totally dumb, sort-of insane sociopath with no heart at all.
          The film is shocking. Its violence is fast and brutal. There is an immense amount of offensive language. There are no likable characters. I'm still describing Observe & Report, you know, for all you Taxi Driver fans out there. However, that latter film is well-respected for its courage, and the former film is universally despised for its indecency.
         What is a courageous film if not a bold display of indecency? 
         I can tell you why Observe & Report failed.

      
          For the same reason that The King of Comedy failed. People don't like to mix their genres if they don't have to. And people certainly don't want any kind of ambiguity from their filmmakers.
         Comedy has an implicit subjectivity. Drama can dare to be objective because there are images on a screen and they play out in succession as a story progresses, fine, but a comedy is always commenting on something. The joke always has to have a point. There is always a means to an end. So when you release a problem comedy, there (bad joke?) going to be some problems. First of all, why are we laughing at this crazy person? Are we laughing at him, or are we laughing with him?
         We're just coasting along in this comedy, and all of a sudden a horrifying act of violence is committed. Are we supposed to laugh at that? Do we laugh at its absurd amount of gore? Is that even funny? What is my intended response?
         When people ask themselves these questions during a movie, they have already left the film. They are no longer following the story or buying into what is happening on screen. They see a fault with the film. And I can't really blame anybody. That is not how we have been trained to watch movies. They are supposed to have clear lines. Funny parts can be in serious movies, but when it gets serious, the music needs to let me know. The tone needs to change accordingly. We can't have the punchline be murder. It's unsatisfying.
          But sometimes we get films that blur these lines. And they're important. Especially films like Observe & Report that are marketed and sold to mass audiences. People need to know that lines can be blurred. Sometimes comedies can convey a message that is just as rich and profound as dramas.
         I'll admit, the film is not perfect, but it is extremely ambitious, thought provoking, and totally courageous. Yes, courageous.

        What do some of you think of the film? Let me know in the comments section.