Scorsese’s Technological Time Machine

In Martin Scorsese’s award-winning family film Hugo,  the director masterfully manipulates visual representations of time-period technology in order to develop the story’s characters and relay the importance of balance between man and machine. Based on Brian Selznick’s novel The Invention of Hugo Cabret,  the fairytale for adults emphasizes both mankind’s increasing reliance on the mechanical and the result of man’s obsession with technology. Clocks, trains, and film itself link three characters’ pasts to the movie’s present, thereby creating a metaphorical time machine for the management of their grief and loss. Hugo (Asa Butterfield) relies on the station’s clocks for his vocation, and he obsesses over the automaton to compensate for the loss of his father; Gustave (Sacha Baron Cohen) depends on the order of train-station schedules and the confident authority that only policy and procedure can provide the war-wounded adult orphan; George Méliès (Ben Kingsley) denies film’s existence and the subsequent damage to his artistic pride when his work falls out of favor due to technological advances. The complicated relationships between mankind and mechanisms are explored as each character deals with personal loss; yet, the automaton acts as a compass throughout the film, directing Hugo, Gustave, and George to a future together where humanity and technology are beneficially balanced.
Time-period technological representations begin immediately as the film opens with the sound of a train and visual clockworks impressively dissolving into a city grid. As the tracking shot plummets, and the bird’s eye view descends through the maze of 1930’s Paris, Scorsese deftly navigates from the train yard and through station crowds before launching up to Hugo’s face hidden behind an analog clock’s number 4. The film’s use of analog clocks (with metallic cogs and wheels mechanically passing time) is Scorsese’s window into one of the film’s moralistic themes; observed by and felt most poignantly by young Hugo, 1930’s man depends upon clocks (wound by the unseen orphan) to direct life and its daily activities. Instead of survival, love, and acceptance (or even more specifically in Hugo’s case, sanctuary and vocational purpose) mankind has become obsessed with the time and schedules provided by technology. Hugo’s technological obsession differs in that he is seeking to rewind the clock by repairing the broken automaton in order to reunite, on some level, with his deceased father. This nearly obsessive desire for mechanical repair and / or advancement is a very human coping mechanism intended to reincarnate his tragically killed father. The boy simply must restore the automaton (based on the real-life creations of watchmaker and magician Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin[1]) so that an imagined message from his father, thought to have been hidden within the automaton’s gears, can be received. Hugo, spending his waking hours within the mechanical bowels of the train station clocks, desires above all else to return to a happier time in the past when he worked on the automaton with his father. His obsession with the device’s functionality causes him to disregard the risk of the Station Inspector’s wrath, the threat of capture, and the potential relocation to an orphanage. Hugo steals mechanical components from George Méliès' shop because the obsessive goal of being reunited (even metaphorically) with his father through the automaton justifies nearly any means necessary. While neither clocks nor the automaton can bring Hugo’s father back, parts from a mechanical mouse (stolen from Méliès' shop) may be the life-giving medicine able to restore the automaton and relay the hidden message as the orphan attempts to cope with personal loss. Scorsese also uses a pocket watch as a smaller, more child sized representation of time and Hugo’s dependence upon technology. Preceding Hugo’s nightmare, that precious link to the past is hung in a place of safety as the boy goes to sleep. Suddenly, when the watch is gone, time and reality disappear as Hugo transforms into the automaton. The metamorphosis from boy to machine can also been seen as man’s loss of humanity with the ever-increasing dependence on the mechanical.
The Station Inspector (Gustave) is also coping with trauma, is alone, and is searching for something greater than himself after being raised as an orphan. The loss of his leg’s full functionality during the war created a dependence on technology; the otherwise strapping man in apparent good health is forced to rely on a mechanical leg brace, which constantly locks and seizes at the most inopportune moments. His self-confidence is only attained through his official role, supported by policies and procedures, which are driven by schedules and technology. Gustave’s ironic relationship with technology is best displayed when the aforementioned leg brace becomes ensnared on a departing train. While comically portrayed, Scorsese takes Gustave back through time to the powerlessness of his life as an orphaned child: alone, afraid, embarrassed, and an outcast. In Hugo, and in turn-of-the century France, the steam engine’s integral role in society is apparent. Of the film’s mechanical representations (clocks, trains, and film), the mechanics of the railroad are symbolically presented as technological advancement, with the first comparison made by the Lumière Brothers' film Arrival of the Train in 1895. Paris began construction of the aforementioned rail system (Métro de Paris) in 1898, and the first line opened in July 1900[2]. Consequently, public transportation in the 1930s, when the film is set, was still a new innovation - taking citizens into the future by rail. The train’s relationship with Gustave again symbolizes forward momentum, and characters like the Station Inspector are dragged into the future whether they are willing or not. Gustave’s fate improves dramatically when he embraces the change. The first step is the shy official’s outreach to the train station’s flower seller. Meeting at the flower cart, Lisette and Gustave share stories of the past, and a bond is created as painful losses are shared; Gustave reveals the source of his leg injury, and Lisette shares that her brother was killed at Verdun. However, the greatest example of positive progress, when man and technology work in concert, occurs at Méliès’ after-party, once the recognition ceremony of the director’s filmmaking career has been completed. Not only is Gustave no longer lonely, as Lisette is by his side, but the tortuous leg brace has been replaced with a technologically advanced medical device created by Hugo; gears and cogs shift in a steam punk design that symbolize the Station Inspector’s arrival in the future. Meanwhile, George Méliès’ creation, the automaton, watches the festivities as a guest of honor after finally being repaired.  
As Hugo grieves his father, and Gustave laments his disability, George Méliès mourns for the loss of his art after falling into obscurity near the end of World War I. Technological advances created the ability to produce faster, cheaper, and less-labor intensive films. Méliès’ films, created as a labor of love with elaborately staged sets, hand-painted frames, stop-trick techniques, and fantasy-themed stories fell out of favor. To survive after a bankruptcy in 1913, the father of special effects sold “many of his 500-plus films to be melted down and made into boot heels.”[3] With the constant unrelenting forward movement of technology, accomplishments and innovations of the past were left behind, and a kiosk at Hugo’s train station was to be Méliès’ finale. However, granddaughter Isabelle and orphan Hugo have other plans, and they take Méliès back through time with the viewing of A Trip to the Moon, previously thought to have been lost. The automaton, previously revealed in a notebook discovered by Méliès while emptying Hugo’s pockets under suspicion of thievery, reminds the film-father of greater times and creative innovation. Mama Jeanne summarizes her spouse’s conflict with advancing technology, “Georges, you've tried to forget the past for so long, but it has caused you nothing but unhappiness. Maybe it's time you tried to remember.” Supported by friends and family, Méliès is able to find balance with the technology that provided so much creative joy to him before the war.
The importance of balance between man and machine connect 1930’s Paris with the modern age; clocks, trains, film, and the automaton remind us that schedules, modern transportation, smart phones, and avatars cannot replace life, vitality, or purpose. Technology can often be used to mask or cope with grief and loss, but only the human element can truly heal. Man is not a machine, and the film’s comparison of man to machine is as valid today as it was in the 1930’s. Various gadgets throughout Martin Scorsese’s Hugo symbolically allow three of the film’s most memorable characters to cope with grief and loss until they are brought together to find acceptance and peace. Scorsese, a connoisseur of film history, appropriately leaves us with the automaton’s image, combining technology and the shape of a man to reemphasize the moralistic theme relayed throughout our metaphorical time traveling adventures; when man and technology are balanced, the outcome is more likely to be harmonious.





[1] http://www.biography.com/people/robert-houdin-9344559#profile
[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paris_M%C3%A9tro#cite_note-france.fr-4
[3] http://cinema-scope.com/cinema-scope-online/the-re-invention-of-dreams-martin-scorseses-hugo/

No comments:

Post a Comment