Martin Scorsese’s Hugo (2011)
is an intriguing story based on vocational functionalism, which in turn is
based on deism. In other words, the film essentially applies an early modern
theological "argument from design" to a pillar of modern society:
one’s profession. In this regard, the film is not just a kids’ movie. The
visual "3D" feature is not where the real depth of the film is
located. The story achieves its fullness beyond the visuals in having several
levels around a core philosophy, which serves as the story's core meaning. For
this reason, Hugo has the potential to become a classic. In
this essay, I explore the philosophy that lies at the basis of the film's story.
I begin with deism and tie it to functionalism.
Deism posits that God is akin to a “clock maker,” designing Creation,
“winding it up,” and then "stepping back" to let it work without
divine intervention. The salient divine attribute is that of designer. The
world, in turn functions as designed. Because the design comes
from God, malfunction due to a problem of design is theologically problematic.
Indeed, not functioning as designed can be viewed as evil, or at least immoral.
Furthermore, if perfect design ensues from a divine designer, bad fits in
nature's design must be held to be problematic. For example, the bodies of a
man and woman to fit together quite well sexually; the same cannot be said of
two men, yet what if the two men are in love? Those who value love are not
likely to view the physiological relative lack of natural fit as problematic,
yet the fact that the male and female fit is better is difficult for them to
ignore. Lest it be objected that the relative lack of fit is not from God, it
is difficult to hold that God is omnipotent and still maintain that
design-induced malfunction is not sourced in God.
In Hugo,
the deism is not made explicit, so its theological problems are not dealt with
directly. Rather, the theology is implied as Hugo observes the world could be
one big machine. If so, it follows that even people might be machines. Because
each machine contains just the number of parts needed, if the world is a
machine, then—Hugo reasons—he must have a purpose even though he doesn’t know
it because he has no parents to tell him what it is. In other words, Hugo faces
existential angst because he does not know his function.
Combining society-as-machine with deism, Creation itself is one machine
consisting of machines. In one scene, Hugo dreams that he himself consists of
the internals of a clock, and furthermore, that everything is
wheels. An implication is that God does not create extra parts (or extra
machines). Put another way, God does not permit unnecessary machines to go on existing.
The orphanage represents the place where such machines—the reprobate—go. As
enforced by the train station’s inspector, kids without parents do not work, and
therefore much be removed from society. To work again, Hugo says, is to do what
one is supposed, or meant, to do, as per how one was designed (by God); it is
to have a purpose, without which one faces nothing short of nihilism.
Essentially, this is functionalism, the philosophy that one is what one does. In
business schools and especially in the business world itself, people tend to
assume that function explains what one is. Even in ordinary conversation,
someone is wont to say something like, “I am a lawyer.” The implication is that
the vocation identifies who one is. Alternatively, the sentence could read, “I
do lawyering.” This sentence refers only to function, rather than ontology.
The film identifies having a function—working (as
a machine works and in the sense of having a job)—not only with what one is
supposed or meant to do, but also with having a home. This is ethically
problematic, for it implies that people who do not work do not deserve having a
home. This problem provides the basis of the film’s dramatic tension. According
to Hugo’s understanding, an orphan without a home (i.e., parents) cannot know,
and therefore perform, his function; he cannot work as
designed. He is thus surfeit in society-as-machine, whose parts can only be necessary. Kids
that don’t work (at recognized jobs) do not legitimately exist, from the
vantage point of society so conceived. More abstractly, meaning is
presumed to depend on function, or being able to work. Everything, including everyone, is
supposed to work—meaning being meant to have a particular function. This is the
deist ethic.
What of mentally or physically impaired people who cannot work as
designed? Does vocational deism justify the Nazi killing of members of society
deemed worthless because they are retarded? Should unemployment compensation be
stopped because the unemployed are not working? Moreover, does human worth come
from function or design? A person who has not found his or her functional raison d’etre might
wonder if he or she deserves to exist. This is essentially what Hugo is
about.
Hugo’s objects of desire all represent means he thinks will
lead him to discover what he is “meant” or “designed” to do—how he was designed
to function. He is driven to overcome all odds to work; he is a
machine, as are we all, and he is driven to discover his purpose. His
antagonist is ultimately nihilism, which can be defined here in terms of not
having a purpose. Home represents the security of having evaded non-existence
(or expulsion from society, as in going to the orphanage) by having found one’s
necessary function and thus being able to work “as intended” and thus as one
should. Deism provides the theological background here, as the design is
presumed to be the basis of purpose. Ironically, Hugo’s function is to fix
human machines that no longer function as designed. His function is sourced in the
design of his heart in having compassion for others who have broken down.
Interestingly, he didn't have to recognize his design or function in order for
it to work throughout his journey. To function vocationally making
use of one's design (e.g., as in Asa Butterfield being a natural actor),
however, one must first recognize the natural ability in order to apply it in a
job.
Hugo is an amazing story in covering several levels precisely
because it goes from Deism (abstractly) to functionalism as vocation
(tangible). In laboring (i.e., working), a person works like a
machine works. For the viewer, the questions go from whether function proffers
worth to whether our function from design is that which we use in our work. In
the documentary on Woody Allen on PBS (2011), the comic points out that some
people can draw really good pictures, such as of horses. Allen admits that he
does not have that talent. He goes on to say that jokes, however, naturally
come to him, even while he is taking a walk. It is simply how he sees the
world; the jokes just come to him. He has an aptitude that is natural for him.
The obvious implication is that each person naturally does some things better
than other things. If a person has no idea of what comes naturally—perhaps
because he or she is so close to it—that person could presumably benefit
greatly by discovering it. There is indeed very little choice in one's
"gifts." They are what given in one's design. If a person realizes
and functions in line with one's natural excellences, one is on what Joseph
Campbell called “the blissful path.” However, if worth is not derived only or
primarily from function, then the blissful path does not depend on discovering
one's natural talents; being transcends doing.
In Hugo, this issue is front and center, with Deism serving as
the foundation.
