Hugo (2011)

You have to be extraordinarily careful making a movie set in Paris these days. You must be acutely aware of cliches to avoid--visual, musical, and spoken. To my dismay, ten minutes into Hugo I knew I'd be disappointed. And I SO wanted to adore it!

But it was much too slow, childish, and sloppy. I was captivated only by the final 20 minutes or so, but even then, it was so unfresh and tired that I felt embarrassed sitting in that dark theater. Embarrassed for Scorcese, I guess. (Not often one gets to utter that phrase.)

But yes, I was sleepy and bored and embarrassed, for as the movie's plot revealed itself as one bursting homage to the history of cinema, Hugo continued to deflate and cheapen itself. The unbearable cliches included goddamn accordion music, the subway/train station musicians gag, the old lady with a teensy obnoxious dog gag, the orphan bit, the wide-eed young girl out for an adventure bit, and the stilted policeman in 'love' (portrayed completely unconvincingly by Sacha Baron Cohen) with the radiant, somehow single and SOMEHOW interested flower lady. And these cliches, folks, just about sum up the entire film. Oh dear. Well, there you have it. I found it to be a vast disappointment, distant and impersonal, the cliche of all Parisian cliches, lacking heart, quirk, and soul.