Hugo is a hopeless orphan living in the walls of the train station in Paris in the past. This boy inherited from his father and uncle how to repair watches and other tools that are his profession. Perhaps there is something else that inherited Hugo that is a robot that does not work without a special key. Hugo made sure he needed the key to unlock the secret, which he believed contained many hidden objects. During the search for the key, Hugo meets George Meles, a shopkeeper and a train station employee and his daughter as well. Hugo will open some memories that have been going on for many years.
A gorgeous, moving and amorous love letter to the very cinema it is born from, and a celebration of the youthful wonder that is concealed in everyone - yes, even those of us resolved to the cynicism of adult thinking.
"Hugo" is a magical cinematic experience, and a masterpiece so unlike anything Scorsese has made before. Captivating and original, it is the director's most human film yet.
It might be curtains for celluloid, but Scorsese, a boyish 69, clearly isn't leaving the stage any time soon. He directs every film with the passion of his first. And it shows.
Thematic potency and cinematic virtuosity -- the production was designed by Dante Ferretti and photographed by Robert Richardson -- can't conceal a deadly inertness at the film's core.
But once the "Cinema Paradiso"-esque celluloid nostalgia bits kick in, it makes total sense why he succumbed to paying lip service to family entertainment in order to make the movie he really wanted to make.
Being a hardcore cinephile (like Scorsese) might add a layer of enjoyment, but it certainly isn't a prerequisite for walking in the door. A sense of wonder, however, is.
