Film Review: 127 Hours

In 2003, Aron Ralston amputated his lower right arm after spending 127 hours trapped under a boulder, stranded while mountain climbing in Utah. Danny Boyle, the wily British director who recently took America, and the Oscars, by storm with the crowd-pleaser Slumdog Millionare, has developed Ralston's incredible true story as the source for his unconventional biopic, constructing as a nearly one-man show for actor James Franco, in his first truly star-making turn.

The story of 127 Hours is known by the audience going into the theater (Ralston's incredible tale of survival made national headlines; I vividly remember watching a new story about the ordeal), and Boyle moves briskly to set up the main stage for his action, zipping through Ralston's preparation for the clim and helping two girls her runs into (Kate Mara and Amber Tamblyn) on their own hike. When Ralston finally begins the 127 hours of confinement and frustration, the film takes off; it's an interesting construct, given that the action doesn't physically leave the small fissure Ralston is trapped in. Boyle employs his distinct directorial style to the picture, weaving in hallucinations and visions, creating a play between Ralston's reality and fiction that slowly deteriorates.

Boyle uses every trick in his book - gorgeous widescreen landscape shots, fisheye cameras, shifting perspective, montage, split screen, amplified color, sound manipulation. 127 Hours is a virtuoso performance for the director, a chance to reall play with his aesthetic; after the incredible success of Slumdog Millionaire, Boyle is given free reign on this unique follow-up. I personally don't care for some of Boyle's choices, which was my most problematic experience while watching the film; I respect Boyle's skills, but I'm decidedly not one of his fans. I think he created some truly astounding visual moments, but I often found the directorial choices to be burdensome and overdetermined. The visual tricks took me out of the tale, and often made me focus on what was going on with the camera rather than the man trapped in the canyon; I wish Boyle could have streamlined his vision a little bit, and let some of the most absurd moments breathe.

Regardless of Boyle's trappings, the film is a stage for James Franco and his incredible talents; if it weren't for Colin Firth's dynamo performance in The King's Speech, I'd be calling Franco my favorite for the Oscar come February. Franco fully embodies Ralston in a draining performance that shows an actor pushed to his limits. The entire film rests on Franco's shoulders. It's interesting that Boyle originally wanted Cillian Murphy as his lead. After seeing Franco in the role, pushing Ralston through his hallucinations to arrive at the gruesome climax, it's impossible to envision another actor embodying the human spirit of Ralston on screen.

Any problems I have with Boyle's direction is undone in the final 20 minutes; the finale is near-perfect cinema, and one of the most rewarding end notes this year. Boyle and Franco do not make the infamous amputation easy - it's gory, disturbing, and unsettling; there have been reports of people vomiting and passing out while in the theater (a woman in the show before mine was taken out by ambulance). It's a brutal sequence, but ultimately a beautiful and empowering one, taking the aesthetics of torture porn to new heights in the overriding determination of the human will to live. 127 Hours works so well because it ends as a triumphant tale about the human spirit, and about taking time to appreciate everything in life. If your heart isn't pounding, and if tears aren't pouring down your face, by the time the credits roll (Boyle does some wonderful soundtrack work to help that pull at the soul), you might need to ask yourself if you're alive at all. A-