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THE ART OF  ADAPTATION

Hugo

'It might be an adventure' Finding the characters
When it came time to find the actors who would inhabit the rich array of roles in "Hugo," Scorsese made an overall decision:  "I went with British actors, for the most part to be consistent, and I use the device that the English accent is from the world that they're in. Even though it's Paris 1931, it's a heightened version of that time and place."
Finding the boy to play Hugo was possibly the tallest order to fill.  He is the centerpiece of the film, in a majority of the scenes and is somewhere around 12 or 13-years-old.  With casting director Ellen Lewis, young actors were brought in.  Rather early on, Asa Butterfield auditioned for the part.  Scorsese remembers, "He read two scenes, and I was convinced immediately.  Before making the final decision, I looked at one film, 'The Boy in the Striped Pajamas.'  Vera [Farmiga] was in the film with him, and I worked with her in 'The Departed.'  She told me about him, and said he was very, very good."   
Almost in the same boat, the young Butterfield didn't really know who Martin Scorsese was, but he had heard good things.  Asa says, "I knew who he was, but I hadn't seen any of his films, because most of them are 18's [restricted to 18 and over in Great Britain].  My mum told me that he was the best.  When I got the job, everyone said, 'Oh, that's amazing.  He's, like, the best director ever!'  And so I slowly began to realize how big this actually was.  And he is the best director.  Marty never says 'Do,' instead he encourages you to experiment and says, 'Try this.'  And he's such a perfectionist, there are always the slightest changes you can play with.  It's been incredible."
Butterfield found the character's inherent mystery to be a big draw.  He observes, "You never know that much about him.  Loads of traumatic things have happened to him; his father has died; his mother's died.  And he ends up living with his Uncle in a train station, doing a man's job.  And then his Uncle leaves and doesn't come back.  By the time the story starts, all that's happened to him, and he's just left alone with this robotic figure, the automaton.  So he's quite to himself until he meets Isabelle, and then that starts getting him out of his shell." 
In order to be seen for the role of Isabelle--god-daughter to 'Papa Georges' and 'Mama Jeanne'--American actress Chloë Grace Moretz adopted a disguise…of sorts.  Scorsese recalls her audition:  "I was seeing a few young actresses from England.  Chloë came in, and she spoke with a British accent, and I thought she was from England as well.  At that stage, we started reading actors in pairs for Hugo and Isabelle, and Asa and Chloë just looked right together.  There were a couple of other actors, and we switched the pairs, but the looks weren't right.  Not only did they look right together, they sounded right together.  They play off of each other very well, and they have very distinctive personalities, very different."
Moretz also recalls:  "I met him for the first time in New York, and it was actually the first time I set foot in New York since I started in this business.  So it was a really cool turn of events, because I show up in New York for the first time in seven years and I am meeting Martin Scorsese for this phenomenal role.  I went in and met him, and he was just really warm.  He told me a bunch of stories and I thought, 'Wow, he's a really cool guy.'"
Chloë was also attracted to the mystery aspect of the story, but more in the external sense.  "Being 13-years-old, as the characters are, there's always something that you want to find out.  There's always something that you're poking and prying, trying to figure out what's going on, or how something works.  In this movie, Isabelle and Hugo are poking and prying at people."
As far as having his two younger leads putting on a 'period' style, the director had a firm notion--don't do it.  He offers, "We don't put up a title card that says '1931.'  It doesn't matter, because what the children are, what they need, what they're looking for, how they behave, it's contemporary, it's universal, it's not something of a time and place.  It's something that is natural, and therefore, it doesn't matter what time this film takes place.  And the children simply behave like children."
For the key role of Georges Méliès, 'Papa Georges,' the director/producer didn't have to look very far in any direction.  Per Scorsese:  "I've always wanted to work with Ben Kingsley over the years, and finally I got these two pictures, 'Shutter Island'--we had a really good working relationship on that picture--and now, this.  He's an extraordinary actor, really one of the greats, which I don't even need to say…just look at his body of work.  His range, his versatility.  In any event, when we looked at the image of Georges Méliès, there was no doubt in my mind that the look would be perfect for Ben."
The look, yes, but what mattered even more to Kingsley was the physicality of this man in decline.  Scorsese was amazed at the performer's exacting technique:  "Ben worked out a way of moving, with a sense of defeat…a defeated impression of his body, a defeated posture.  This, after the man had been so alive, making 500 films, three films a week, doing magic shows in the evening, and having to shoot during the daytime.  He created a whole new art form and suddenly, he loses all of his money, has to burn everything and winds up sitting behind the counter of a toy store in a very quiet part of the Gare Montparnasse."
In Kingsley's research, he found much to admire on a personal basis in Méliès, beyond the man's visionary talent in cinema.  The actor relates, "Georges had the confidence and charisma of a great stage magician.  He had to be very precise in the execution of his tricks--sawing people in half, levitations, disappearances, that sort of thing--and his sleight of hand.  His precision was contagious to his cast and crew.  Given that he made hundreds of films, they must have been very disciplined indeed.  He ran a tight ship, but I hear he ran it very affectionately.  He rarely lost his temper or raised his voice, if ever.  He had a way of gently reminding people what they'd forgotten to do, reminding them when he had said something before.  What a man he must have been."
Just as his character shifts from magic to cinema, Kingsley sees a natural evolution in Martin Scorsese's venture into 3D filmmaking:  "I suppose it's a little bit like an artist going from fine portrait painting to landscape painting.  It's a shift in the way he puts his brush, but it's the same brush and it's the same canvas." 
A looming presence in the train station and the constant threat to Hugo's independent way of life is the Station Inspector, a role slightly modified from the novel.  Per Scorsese:  "We asked Brian Selznick if we could open up this part, because I just didn't want it to be a figure of  fear--basically, a villain, just to threaten and catch the boy.  I wanted him to have a little more flavor, more levels to him, and so I thought by working with Sacha Baron Cohen we could find that."
Baron Cohen describes his take on his character:  "Now naturally, in any train station, it's dangerous for children to be running around.  So in the '20s and '30s, with the working conditions and such, if you have homeless children about, unsupervised, it would present a danger to the passengers and the kids themselves.  So, you have me, a Station Inspector.  He's this wonderful fellow who's utterly repulsive and horrid to children, but yet, there's a different side to him.  He has a gentler side.  He was probably in an orphanage himself, and he is actually a war invalid.  He's limited physically by a metallic attachment to his leg, which we imply may have been the result of a war wound, but it was most likely self-inflicted, by accident."
Inadvertently, the actor had already begun his own research in the physical style of comedy of the day:  "In England, I think Harold Lloyd was on television everyday after school, so we kind of grew up watching him.  I never found him that funny at the time, but there are references in 'Hugo' to those films, particularly 'Safety Last,' where he climbs up a building, and does this incredible stunt and gets stuck on a clock that falls backwards.  We directly reference that.  So Martin wanted me to look at these early comedians, which was very interesting.  They were doing brilliant stuff, people like Keaton and Chaplin.  Yeah, I discovered this very obscure guy called Charles Chaplin, I believe, and his work is quite interesting--definitely worth a look."   
Scorsese also came up with another way to add facets to the 'villain' of the piece.  Baron Cohen explains, "When Marty and I met originally, we were talking about ways to make the villain not seem like an archetypal villain--Marty had this idea of bringing in some romance.  And it was quite lovely to have Emily Mortimer, who is a wonderful actress and woman, play my love interest, so there is a bit of love.  You know, the Inspector really is a nasty man.  He's a horrible man, but deep down, he is a nice guy.  It's just really deep…down." 
Scorsese expresses, "Emily is one of the best actors around, she has a great sense of humor, and she was a wonderful choice to play a love interest for Sacha, which was unique for him to try." 
The Station Inspector isn't the only threat to Hugo.  He is brought to live in the train station, in fact, by his estranged Uncle Claude, a menacing lout who promptly pawns off his maintenance duties onto the small boy.
The director/producer:  "I worked with Ray Winstone in 'The Departed,' which was a great experience.  Ray has this passive menace--he doesn't need to be involved in any dialogue or anything physical, but you can still feel this darkness lurking in his character.  I thought he would bring that threatening gravity to Hugo's Uncle Claude."
Perhaps even more than performing in the role, Winstone enjoyed the shared experience of working with Scorsese in 3D.  Ray says, "The joy for me during filming was actually watching Scorsese work, because it was like he was falling in love with making a film again.  Watching him with 3D, with something he'd never worked with before . . . it was like watching a kid with a new toy.  And the feeling was palpable and eventually passed around the cast and crew."
For the key featured role of Hugo's father, Scorsese needed to find an actor who could embody all of the warmth and goodness that the young boy had experienced (up to that point in his life) in just a few short scenes. 
"I worked with Jude Law once before, when he played Errol Flynn in 'The Aviator.'  I also saw him onstage as Hamlet, and he was really wonderful.  He's so unique.  He has the authority and the charm for this part, and I'd love to be able to work with him in a longer project," offers Scorsese.
Law professes, "I knew the book because I'd already read it to my children.  So I went back and re-read it, and I talked to my children about it and asked them their impressions of the father.  I got to talk to a clockmaker, and I looked at automatons, so I had a certain knowledge of how to hold things, and if they were referring to tools, I'd know what they were.  But otherwise, to me, really, it was simply about creating a very warm and heartfelt chapter in Hugo's life, knowing that the majority of the story sets him in quite a cold world.  I wanted to make sure that you realize he had been loved.  I thought it was really important that I carry my experiences of being a father into it."
For the role of Monsieur Labisse, who runs a book shop in the train station, Scorsese finally had the opportunity to work with a truly legendary performer.  He states, "On this film I finally got the chance to work with Christopher Lee, who's been a favorite of mine for 50, 60 years."
The 89-year-old Lee recalls traveling in France in 1931:  "I remember very well those shops, café's and restaurants. So to me, in a way, it's like stepping into my past.  My character is sort of a guardian angel, and I help open the world to these children through literature." 
Lee was thrilled to finally be able to cross Martin Scorsese off of his list:  "Not to flatter Martin, but I said to him, 'I have more credits probably than anyone in the industry alive today, so I'm told.  But I always felt that my career would not be absolutely complete unless I did a film with you, because I've worked with John Huston, Orson Welles, Raoul Walsh, Steven Spielberg, Tim Burton, Peter Jackson and many, many, many, many others, but never with you.'  Along comes this story, and obviously there is something for me.  So finally!" 
Scorsese cast Helen McCrory in the pivotal role of Madame Jeanne, the support and protector of the aging Méliès, who at one time was his muse.  Scorsese explains, "I had seen Helen in 'The Queen' as Mrs. Blair, and in a British television series of 'Anna Karenina,' and she was excellent.  We got to meet, talked, and I thought she would be perfect for the role.  It's a complex situation: Madame Jeanne, who supports her husband, has worked with him for years and wants him to get past the bitterness of his great disappointment in life.  She was wonderful, working in different layers, shades and colors into her performance."
The crucial role of Rene Tabard, the film scholar who, thanks to Hugo and Isabelle, rediscovers Méliès and arranges the gala in his honor at the French Film Academy, went to the versatile screen and stage actor Michael Stuhlbarg. Scorsese was delighted at being reunited with him.  "This is the third time Michael and I have worked together. He appeared in the commercial for Freixenet champagne I shot that was an homage to Alfred Hitchcock, and he also played a leading role in 'Boardwalk Empire.' Michael's range as an actor is astonishing. He can switch effortlessly from drama to comedy, from a contemporary film to a period piece. He's equally brilliant as a vicious, hardened crime boss in 'Boardwalk' or, in 'Hugo,' as a gentle, self-effacing film historian who idolizes George Méliès and is in awe of his movies. It was a great pleasure working with Michael again." 
A great deal of the 'local color' of the train station is provided by people who depend upon the traffic in the station's main hall for their livelihood, which include the flower seller, Lisette (Mortimer); the book seller, Labisse (Lee); a gentleman who runs the newsstand, Monsieur Frick; and his neighbor, who runs the café, Madame Emilie.  For the role of the slightly eccentric (potential) couple, Scorsese slotted two of Great Britain's finest character actors, Richard Griffiths ("one of the greatest actors working today," states Scorsese ) and Frances de la Tour ("I've always been a great admirer of hers," he adds). 
The director elaborates, "The characters that John Logan placed in this little world of the station, in our impression of Paris at that time, I call them the 'vignettes;' they inhabit this world.  They work there everyday.  All these characters were meant to weave in and out of the picture, with everybody trying to connect with each other, the way Hugo is trying to connect with his past."
Scorsese approached the vignettes with a light touch, and shot them almost like a silent film.  The characters quietly, almost wordlessly, move in and out of frame as they relate to each other.  Just watching them, scenarios arise, which add to the atmosphere and the feel of the train station.
As the Station Inspector's menacing dog, Maximillian, three trained Dobermans were brought in (Blackie was used in most scenes, with Enzo and Borsalino in the wings to cover).  Trainer Mathilde de Cagny also oversaw the use of the longhaired dachshunds (which play into the story of Frick and Emilie), a cat (forever perched atop a pile of books in Labisse's shop) and several pigeons (what's a clock tower without pigeons?).  De Cagny herself was usually costumed and stationed in the crowd, near enough to the action to 'direct' the animals, but not evident enough to pull focus and spoil the shot.  When no crowds were present, she was outfitted in a 'green screen' suit, for easy removal in post-production.
To fill the role of one very special character--who is central to the plot and its unfolding--filmmakers turned to props master David Balfour, who worked with  'problem solving' prop builder Dick George, creator of Hugo's automaton.
Dick George offers, "He's a character in himself, so in a way, it's like building a little human being."  A total of 15 automatons were built for filming, each one, to execute a different move or serve a different purpose within the script. 
George continues, "The advantage that we have in manufacturing this piece is that we have all modern technologies at our disposal, which early clockmakers didn't have.  However, they had a wealth of experience and understanding of clockwork mechanisms.  The early automatons were driven on a cam system, and the information was programmed in, letter-by-letter, so the amount that it could actually write or draw was quite limited.  In our case, because it's a computer program, it can draw absolutely anything."
Of his taciturn co-star, Asa Butterfield notes, "It's really odd.  It does feel like he's another actor.  When I heard that I was going to be working with a robot for a portion of this movie, I thought it might look like the Tin Man from 'The Wizard of Oz,' but it looks so human."  Ben Kingsley observes, "The automaton took on a life of its own.  It was very touching and beautiful to watch the little chap turn his head, dip his pen into a pot of ink and draw the face of the moon, which I watched it do with my own eyes.  There was one scene, where Hugo comes to Georges while cradling the automaton, which really is a child holding a lost child.  Then I take the little chap in my arms, and we walk off--and then it's really three children walking away." 

'Seeing dreams in the middle of the day' : Finding the real Méliès
"I had a DVD set, of course, of Méliès films, and there's an image of Méliès on the cover," Scorsese says.  "One day on the set, two of the kids in the movie went by, both about 12-years-old.  One saw the DVD box and said, 'Oh, there's Ben (Kingsley),' I responded, 'No, that's really Méliès.'  'You mean he existed, he's real?'  I said, 'Oh, yes.'"
Georges Méliès was not the first to make films--that honor belongs to two brothers, Auguste and Louis Lumière, who invented 'moving pictures' in 1895 and went on to make hundreds of films, mostly documenting 'real-life' events (e.g., one of their first, "L'Arrivée d'un train á La Ciotat," had early cinemagoers literally jumping out of their seats as a huge steam engine raced through the frame).   The story goes that the brothers, however, believed this new pastime to be literally a passing fancy. Georges Méliès thought otherwise.  Eschewing the family business of shoemaking, Méliès sold the factory and took the proceeds to fund the beginning of his chosen profession--magic.  He purchased a theater (formerly owned by his mentor, Jean-Eugène Robert-Houdin, the magician who inspired the young Ehrich Weiss to change his name to Harry Houdini) and began performing.  He saw his first moving picture when he was 34 and to him, this new art form held great promise…for magic.  He constructed his own cameras and projectors, with the help of R.W. Paul, oftentimes repurposing parts from a collection of automatons Robert-Houdin had left behind.  His earliest films re-created his stage performances.  However, he soon began to experiment with storytelling and editing techniques, giving rise to some of the earliest cinematic 'special effects,' including stop motion, time-lapse photography, multiple exposures and dissolves and hand-painted colors.  He later sold his theater and built his studio, with a stage entirely of glass (to best utilize all available light) at its heart. 
"What's amazing about Méliès," offers Scorsese, "is that he explored and invented pretty much everything that we're doing now.  It is in a direct line, all the way, from the sci-fi and fantasy films of the '30s, '40s and '50s, up to the work of Harryhausen, Spielberg, Lucas, James Cameron.  It's all there.  Méliès did what we do now with computer, green screen and digital, only he did it in his camera at his studio." 
His 'masterpiece,' the 14-minute "Le voyage dans la lune" ("A Trip to the Moon"), was filmed in 1902. He went on to write, direct, act in, produce and design more than 500 films by 1914, with subjects ranging from 'reality' (re-creations of current events) to fantasy/sci-fi (from "Kingdom of the Fairies" to "The Impossible Voyage"), with playing times from one to 40 minutes in length. Méliès is often referred to as the 'Father of Narrative Filmmaking,' with many crediting him with the birth of the fantasy, science fiction and horror genres.
Because of an unfortunate incident with Thomas Alva Edison (who acquired a print of Méliès' 1896 "The House of Devil," duplicated and exhibited it in the U.S. with great success…without giving any profits to Méliès), the filmmaker began to film two prints simultaneously, one for European and one for American exhibition.  Recently, a film historian combined both prints of "The Infernal Cake Walk" and found the resulting image to be a crude precursor to 3D cinema.   
Advances in the art of cinema later left Méliès behind, and with the outbreak of World War I, he saw his appeal waning.  He eventually abandoned his studio, burned his costumes and sets, and sold the copies of his films to be melted down for chemical use.
To support himself, his second wife and his granddaughter, Méliès worked in a confectionary and toy booth seven days a week at one of Paris' central train stations, Gare Montparnasse, in the 1920s.  He remained largely forgotten until the artistic community of French Surrealists 'discovered' his work, connecting with his dreamlike vision.  Renewed interest led to a gala in Paris, with Méliès front and center, screening many of his works.  He was even working on a new film, "The Ghosts of the Metro," when he died in 1938.   
Scorsese remarks, "When I first read the book, I didn't realize that the older gentleman in the toy store was going to turn out to be Georges Méliès.  It's a true story.  He was broke, and did wind up in a toy store at the Gare Montparnasse for 16 years."
Ben Kingsley explains, "The fictionalizing is discreet in our film.  It was believed by many that Georges died around about the time of the First World War, but he actually isolated himself in his shop.  It's been re-created, wonderfully, from photographs and from people who were close to him.  The nudge of history is delicate and charming." 

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