MR. HUBLOT. Unpretentious Science Fiction Parable

The futuristic world is a frequent host for cinematic narratives, like in Mr. Hublot. Screenwriters are fond of setting their stories in the future because it allows them to unleash their imagination, to feel like inventors and innovators. Science fiction is also exceptionally receptive to existential philosophy, to the creation of parables and metaphors. The genre reflects our present reality in a distorted mirror, transforms it—politics turns into dictatorship, social structure into class warfare, paradise into dystopia. Science fiction usually has an interventionist character: it serves as a warning, a cautionary tale for audiences. It formulates hypotheses rooted in science or history.

A technological leap almost always turns out to be humanity’s enemy. In more favorable circumstances, it is merely a disappointment. Films such as Metropolis, 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Terminator, Blade Runner, eXistenZ, The Matrix, I, Robot, WALL·E, and Her are all characterized by the same skepticism (and these are merely the most famous representatives of their respective decades). These films share a common denominator and explore similar issues. Humanity becomes a prisoner of machines that control its senses, its knowledge, and its abilities. Science-fiction cinema offers no salvation, only a bitter reflection on our future—one in which we are stripped of agency.

Science fiction is most often decadent, bleak, and oppressive. The world is heading in a disastrous direction, and there is no strength left to protect it or to change its course. All we can do is postpone the inevitable catastrophe.

What about the innocent Mr. Hublot? The protagonist of the animated short film by Laurent Witz and Alexandre Espigares is completely stuck in a world of machines. Long ago, he stopped wondering what is happening around him, what—or who—he is. He appears to be a cog needed by no one. He looks somewhat like a human, moves somewhat like one—but a deadly cyclicality has invaded his life. He has turned into a robot, with numbers on his forehead measuring the flow of his thoughts. Above his apartment looms a fully industrialized space—the city of the future: ugly, dirty, and anonymous. The world of nature has merged with the world of technology; the boundary between them no longer exists.

In the rush of technological progress, something truly essential and constitutive of humanity has been lost. The motivation for action and change is no longer an ordinary human need, but a mindless mechanical cycle. Morning breakfast, the constant straightening of family photographs hanging on the wall, and work itself have become mere poses—rituals that must be repeated routinely each day. Everything in accordance with, by, and for the Clock. Solely for a hopeless, purposeless sense of punctuality—at a time when no one is chasing him and no one needs it.

Mr. Hublot will eventually awaken and shake himself free. He will begin to see clearly. Saving obstacles and problems will appear—first technical ones (a malfunctioning light), then ethical ones (a suffering, homeless dog)—followed immediately by initiative. Hublot will feel that he is, in fact, alive. At last, his conscience and compassion will speak. Laurent Witz offers us a recipe for a happy life, doing so with remarkable grace and conviction: through the simplest emotions, without extravagance, experimentation, or spectacle. Amid a sea of epic, high-budget science-fiction productions, a small French film emerged. Credit is due to the American Academy for noticing it, pulling it from obscurity, and rewarding it—thus allowing it to endure longer among formidable competition.

It is worth spending ten minutes on this unpretentious parable and stepping away for a moment from the mainstream narratives dictated by major film studios. The creators of Mr. Hublot do not construct a multilayered, expansive, and complete world. They focus solely on a small fragment of it—a detail within the larger universe. Yet Mr. Hublot’s transformation—this individual triumph—is far more uplifting than even the heroic mission of Neo from The Matrix.