DirkH’s review published on Letterboxd:
Part of Dastardly Difficult December: film nr.100
I thought it would be fitting to watch as my hundredth film this month (Thanks again for the heads up, Dave Vis!) a film about one of the heroes of cinema, a film allegedly about the beauty of imagination and this medium I so love.
Scorcese's film looks absolutely stunning. It is perhaps the most beautiful film I've seen all year. From the opening shot onwards, you know you're in for a visual treat. The way Scorcese moves and twirls the camera through this Parisian train station is breathtaking and an absolute delight. There are a couple of these wonderfully flowing action sequences that made me wish I had seen it on the big screen.
The attention to detail in production design is impressive. In that respect it is, indeed, a labour of love and made me forget immediately to ponder about what all these British people were doing in Paris.
There are flourishes of magic as well, most notably in Ben Kingsley's flashback. That was perhaps my favourite bit in the film. What we get to see is a glimpse of how films were made back in the day. It is shot with exuberance and great enthusiasm and is just a joy to behold.
So where does it all go wrong then? That old hag, the story. It is dull and the pacing is completely off. There are small pockets of magic intermixed with long periods of rather dull plot exposition and the story 'going through the motions'. I'm always hesitant to criticise a child's performance, but I did not care much for Asa Butterfield's portrayal of Hugo. He was adequate where he needed to be special. The emotional connection he needed to make with me to get me involved in his plight just never happened because in the scenes where he needed to be convincing he more often than not fell flat. I've seen him in other films and he certainly has talent, this just wasn't a great performance by him. For that matter, the rest of the cast didn't inspire me to get involved as well. It all felt rather dutiful, trying to convey something that just isn't present in the story in the first place.
Dedication and passion aren't the same thing. It felt like they were very dedicated to make this film, but forgot to inject a healthy dose of passion into it. It therefore felt more like I was watching a beautiful tribute instead of a passionate love letter.
And I was kind of hoping for the latter.