No Extra Parts

Black Friday. The day when the masses try to save the economy with their consumerism. I, however, spent zero money, and baked a bunch of Christmas cookies with my mom. After the chaos of the day, when my husband was finally freed off from his job in retail, my parents joined us for an evening showing of Hugo in 3D*. Have you seen this movie? More importantly, have you read the book it’s based on, The Invention of Huge Cabret??

I read the book a few years ago, having discovered it during a library conference. It was brand new when I read it, and had not yet received such accolades as the Caldecott Medal. It is a beautiful, magical book. Don’t be daunted by its enormous 550 page count. Much of the book is told through gorgeous illustrations that intertwine seamlessly with the text. I even gave this tome to a very eager 6 year old at the library shortly after I read it, and he devoured it. 

The movie is purely delightful. It is magical without being impossible, and the essence of the book is not only preserved and honored, but–dare I say it?–enriched. Hugo Cabret is a lonely orphan boy who secretly lives in the Paris train station. He steals to eat, and spends his days tending the station’s many clocks. All the while, he works tirelessly to restore life to an old mechanical man, an automaton, that his father had found and loved. Hugo is an observer of the world in the train station. He watches the people who work there from his hiding places in the clock towers.

Now, I won’t go into a full-spoiler review of the film here, even though I’m tempted. 🙂 I would like to talk for a moment about that whole “essence” thing I mentioned earlier. The film is just called Hugo, but my husband–knowing me as well as he does, and therefore knowing this film is based on the book by a slightly longer title–asked me after it was over: “So, what was the invention of Hugo Cabret?”

There is a scene with Hugo and Isabelle where Hugo starts talking about the world as one large machine. “Machines never come with any extra parts,” he says. “They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured, if the entire world was one big machine, I couldn’t be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason.”

He then goes on to discuss how everyone must have a purpose, and how, if you lose your purpose, you become sad and lost. He wonders if maybe his purpose is to fix things–machines, mostly, but maybe people, too.

I loved this scene. I loved Hugo’s humility as he ponders these things. Here’s a kid who’s lost everything. He’s an orphan, abandoned by his drunk uncle, forced to live in secrecy and fear in a world that is unkind to children–especially children who steal. Yet, he wonders if his purpose is to help restore life to those around him. I believe this is Hugo’s invention: his own purpose, and the courage and dedication that is born from it. It’s an invention that changes the lives of those around him in profound ways.

Hugo’s bravery inspires and convicts me. I am moved by this boy who has known so much pain, who even cries out at one point: “I don’t understand!” His determination to fulfill his purpose, despite his suffering, is remarkable. It is something I have not always done. If Hugo is right (as my faith most certainly asserts), and the world–like a machine–has no extra parts, then there is a purpose for each of us to fulfill.

December 22, 2011 will mark the one year anniversary of the tragic death of my long-time friend, Nicole, and her husband, Anthony. Their loss continues to be incomprehensible to me. Nicole was one of the most abundantly joyful and life-affirming people I’ve ever known. Her smile and laughter were undoubtedly the joy of heaven. She was a true friend to all who knew her–a fact only confirmed at the memorial service, where story after story was shared about the difference her life made to so many.

Nicole’s purpose was so clear: she lived for God. She was the type of Christian who actually strove to model her life after Christ’s. She and Anthony, whom I never met, were a rare, authentic light of love in this world. Since their deaths, I have pondered my own purpose many times. Not always in a gloomy, “why am I here?” kind of way, though I’ll admit that has sometimes been the case. I’ve wondered, though, if I am a working part of this machine, as Hugo would say, or if I’m in need of fixing.

I’ve so often used my jaw as an excuse to step out of life. I avoid socializing when I’m in pain (and sometimes when I’m not), and I’ve often put things off, saying I’ll try them when my jaw is fixed and my pain is gone. But Hugo did not do this. He observed life from his clock towers, but he didn’t give up on it. He risked further pain in order to be a working part of the world’s machine.

The fictional Hugo, who is so real in both book and film, and the real memory of Nicole have gotten me thinking tonight about this world and my small, cog-like place in it. Perhaps things will be better, easier, once my surgery is passed. But maybe not. Either way, I don’t want to live with the mentality that I am just an extra part. There are no extra parts, right, Hugo?

*Just in case you’re wondering, this film is worth seeing in 3D. Unlike many movies in 3D, who are so fast-paced it’s like the images are punching your eyeballs in the face, this film is improved by being in 3D. The opening scene alone is breathtaking, and almost ride-like in the best possible way. My mom, in fact, whispered, “This will be a ride in Disney World!” If you’re going to spend the extra $4 on a 3D film this season, I suggest this one!