MYTHICITY: (1) *good,* (2) poor
FRYEAN MYTHOS: (1) *drama,* (2) comedy
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: (1) *sociological, psychological,* (2) *psychological*
In some ways Martin Scorcese’s HUGO—based
on Brian Selznick’s novel THE INVENTION OF HUGO CABRET—is the perfect
naturalistic exemplar of the trope I call “enthralling hypnotism and
illusionism.” Hypnotism, the art of
seeming to make people surrender their wills, is not on display here. However, whereas in previous entries I’ve
usually spoken of “illusionism” in terms of stage-magic, here it refers to
“movie-magic,” the ability of filmmakers to create a “dream-screen” to which
filmgoers surrender their “reality principle.”
I won’t go into the details of
HUGO’s plot, which concerns, in brief, the fortuitous way in which the
unsupervised orphan boy Hugo stumbles across an old man who proves to be
(remember the spoilers) the once-heralded silent fantasy-filmmaker Georges
Melies. Scorcese brings every ounce of
his formidable directing-talent to the fore in this valentine to early
cinema-history. And though Scorcese is
best known for realistic crime drama, HUGO is predicated on the notion that
cinema’s greatest achievement is its ability to capture magical fantasies—even
though the film HUGO itself does not properly belong in the annals of
metaphenomenal film.
The irony of HUGO is that the only way cinema
can manifest dreams is through the medium of technology—and not the futuristic
technology of science fiction, but the vaguely “steampunk” technology of the
late 19th century, from which filmmaking technology was born. Presumably following Cabret’s book,
Scorcese’s story makes clear that the re-invention of man’s culture through his
technology also implies the reinvention of man himself— essentially a
benevolent rewriting of the Frankenstein myth.
The story dovetails two
developments in the 19th century, for the birth of film technology
was also the period in which humans began their first fumbling steps with
automatons. One such automaton provides
a link between Hugo and Melies. At no
time does this primitive version of a robot do any of the things associated
with science-fiction robots, whether railing at its creators or serving as an
obedient “Ariel” to a masterful “Prospero.”
First and last, it, like all other forms of technology in HUGO, is just
a machine that does nothing more than what it’s been made to do. And yet, whenever Scorcese’s camera lingers
on the automaton, the viewer cannot help but expect to see it come alive. It
only does so once, in Hugo’s dream, as he imagines himself being overwhelmed
and consumed by machines. But that
nightmare is never more than another dream, and the upbeat tone of HUGO
makes clear that in this world all dreams are grist for the “dream screen.”
Interestingly, some film-critics
have spoken of cinema’s beginnings as divided between two polarized attitudes:
that of Melies, who embraced fantasy and dreamlike illusion, and of the Lumiere
Brothers, who reputedly emphasized documentarian examinations of reality. As HUGO depicts history, the Lumieres are the first out of the gate,
for the film depicts Melies as attending one of their early cinematic
efforts. When these pioneers decline to
share their secrets with Melies, he steals those secrets and puts them to his
diametrically opposed use. Yet though
Scorcese recognizes the Lumieres’ primacy, it’s Melies the fantasist whom he
chooses to celebrate.
To be sure, those who are familiar
with Scorcese’s frequent tub-thumping efforts for film preservation-- often
seen on the TCM movie channel—may feel toward the end that the whole film has
been a big commercial for Scorcese’s idée fixee. Nevertheless, HUGO, though not a fantasy-film
in either the uncanny or marvelous categories, shows supreme respect for the
art of fantasy itself.
THE MYSTERIOUS HOUSE OF DR. C is
one of the films whose history is more interesting than the film itself. The movie was first launched in 1968 as an adaptation of the 1870 comic ballet "Coppelia," which itself was largely based on E.T.A. Hoffman’s short story, “The Sandman.” Not being a ballet enthusiast I have no knowledge of the original work, but since I view (through my
Fryean literary lens) "Sandman" as an extremely depressing ironic horror-tale. it seems like the a strange choice on which to base a frothy musical comedy.
Further, though the initial release of the Spanish film "Fantástico mundo del doctor Coppelius" was in 1968, it met with little attention, so its producers rearranged the original film and added new material for an equally unsuccessful release in 1976. As that version was the one to debut on TCM in 2011, I'm reviewing that one only here.
Whereas HUGO was written as a 21st
century take on the 19th century’s fascination with automata,
Hoffman’s story was a roughly contemporaneous take upon the marvelous machines, such as the famous chess-playing automaton "the Turk," which was exhibited from the late 18th through the early 19th centuries. Hoffman's 1816 tale concerns a semi-hysterical
narrator—possibly the ancestor to most of Poe’s storytellers—who has encountered
a mysterious Doctor Coppelius. The narrator compares the weird doctor to the “Sandman” of
folktales. The narrator falls in love
with the young female protégé of Coppelius, only to be driven to distraction
when he discovers that she is nothing more than a mechanical creature. In 1919 Sigmund Freud famously interpreted the story
in terms of the Oedipus Complex, and labeled the story “uncanny” in that one
was never sure whether or not the events were real or the product of a demented
imagination. This reading surely affected
the view of Todorov in his study THE FANTASTIC, where he views all fantasy
through this same Freudian lens.
While it might be hard for some to
say whether or not Hoffman’s story is “uncanny” or “marvelous,” MYSTERIOUS
HOUSE OF DR. C solves the quandary by abolishing it and hewing to a naturalistic interpretation of the universe.
In this inversion of Hoffman, Doctor Coppelius is not a sinister mad
scientist or even a nasty father-figure, but a harmless crank who tries to make
automata. Through an assortment of contrivances, the girl Swanhilda pretends to be
one of his automata and goes through a series of comic mishaps posing as a
robot girl and trying to win her beloved.
Judged as a musical, HOUSE is mainly a curio, not
very memorable in terms of song, dance, or performance. The film's crazy doctor doesn't even make a functioning automaton, which apparently does happen in the ballet. Thus MYSTERIOUS HOUSE OF DOCTOR C is really all about dispelling any sense of "mystery" in favor of a cheery comic "reality."
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