The human potential for unexpected randomness

This weekend I saw 'Hugo,' the big screen adaptation of the 'Hugo Cabret' book by Brian Selznick. It was the first time I'd never seen a film in 3D, which until now I had dismissed as just another Hollywood substitution for character or story. But it really added a lot to the visual experience of the film, and didn't give me a headache, either. So other than the $13 ticket price and slightly dark image, yay 3D!

As for the film: 'Hugo' had me from the opening shot, which starts high above Paris of the 1930s and then swoops down into the sprawling glass and steel shed of an idealized (and now long gone) Gare Montparnasse, once one of the city's great train stations. Of course anything with a big city European train shed and steam engines, plus lots of mechanical clock machinery and scenes of baked goods and then old film would have been more than enough for me. It could have been a documentary about the effect of the Great Depression on French post-Symbolist poetry; I would have been happy to just watch scenes of the station and eye the croissants for two hours.

Yes, the film did have a story—one involving the French film pioneer Georges Méliès, no less, and yay again for that. But the reason for this post is to examine a specific point made in the story, when the question of "Why We're Here" once again rears its unanswerable head. In this case, with clocks all about, it's only natural that the question is answered in terms of machinery. So here's what I wrote to an acquaintance who saw the film with me:

"At one point, Hugo says that clocks or machines have only just the parts they need—no more, no less. From this, he extrapolates a reason for each person's existence: everyone must have a purpose, or he or she wouldn't be here. And though it's not said explicitly in the film, it's an argument for our universe reflecting a master design of some higher power or another.

"It's a nice thought, but I find it doesn't sit well with me. To me, such a notion seems kind of limiting or dismissive of humanity—to think that we need to justify our existence and that we MUST have a reason for being here. To me, the essence of being human is our ability to transcend the absolutely necessary (very much unlike a watch part) and do things that are completely unnecessary, such as make art or do cartwheels.

I'm not saying the "we're all like parts in a wonderful clock" answer is wrong. But it's not the right one for me, as it seems at odds with the one thing about humans that sets us apart from so much else: our capacity for whimsy and creativity and imagination. We don't always do what's necessary. Heck, we sometimes do things that make no sense at all, often again and again.

Consider: insanity is commonly illustrated as a person doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Well, humans have been asking "Why are we here?" for ages, and not getting an answer, and yet we continue to do it. Given that we know in advance that we can't know an answer for sure (which is a scary thing to most people, hence the popularity of religious systems and beliefs), then it's a remarkably human thing for us to keep asking. It's like we're in a casino in front of the biggest slot machine of them all, and the chances of hitting the huge jackpot are infinitesimally small and might well be zero for all we know, and yet we keep pulling the handle again and again. Insane? Maybe. Human? Yes!

I like the idea of the human potential for unexpected randomness, and sense there may be something holy in it. I've long felt this way, even without thinking about it, and even while growing up marinated in the teachings of the Catholic church. When I attended Fordham University in New York City, I would annoy my new city friends while crossing streets in Manhattan by suddenly diving down to the pavement, somersaulting, and then standing back up again and continuing on as if nothing had happened. Asked why I did that, I'd reply along the lines that I was just making sure I still had free will, that's all. Oh, there's the hick from New Hampshire, at it again!

Yes, everyone wants to be needed. It's an important part of life. But equally important to our humanity, I think, is to preserve and exercise and celebrate our ability to do things that are totally unnecessary.

I think it would make a great basis for a church: that people all get together once a week and do something completely unexpected to celebrate their humanness. Plus, you could get a tax write-off.

And speaking of that: if the current U.S. tax code isn't a celebration of the human capacity for the unnecessary, then I don't know what is.