You may have heard reports of strong reactions to 127 Hours, which tells the true story of Aron Ralston (played by James Franco), who goes canyoneering and gets his right arm trapped under a boulder. That’s all there really is to the film.
It’s not a spoiler to say Ralston survived; he wrote a book about his experience — upon which this film is based — and has made multiple TV appearances. What this review will tactfully leave out is just what it is that Ralston was driven to do to escape.
It may be too much for some. Movieline.com devoted an entire article to one "fainter." It’s too bad the co-president of Fox Searchlight, which co-financed and is distributing the film, denied the publicity value in the L.A. Times; it might have been fun to offer audiences a Lloyd’s of London insurance policy, as schlockmeister horror producer William Castle once did.
But 127 Hours is not simply a shock fest. It only gets graphic in the final 15 minutes or so — and even then, it’s no Passion of the Christ. Its intensity has more to do with the empathy it evokes; we wonder if we could possibly do the same.
With brutal, unforgiving suddenness, Ralston finds himself in a seemingly inescapable dilemma. If character is what one does, the film is less about what Ralston did to get himself into his mess, and more about how he conducts himself afterwards.
Yes, we see he’s self-centred and somewhat oblivious to others. He’s young and full of himself, after all. "You’re batshit!" cries one of the two girls he meets earlier that day and takes diving in a subterranean pool. How carefree he was, before fate rang the bell.
Director Danny Boyle has always been one of the most visually inventive of contemporary directors with respect to his chosen subject matter. Whether it’s in Trainspotting or the Oscar-feted Slumdog Millionaire, Boyle brings an exuberance to material that other directors often don’t.
The challenge he sets for himself here is saving a story from monotony when it’s set for a good 70 minutes in a very limited physical space. Screenwriting gurus such as Syd Field advise "opening things up," but Boyle doesn’t do that any more than seems absolutely necessary. The focus is singularly tight.
And that’s what gives the film its power — we’re down there with Ralston, thinking along with him about how he might be able to overcome this obstacle. Even within that narrow crevice, Boyle finds imaginative visuals that are stylish while still functioning as effective narrative touches.
Someone once told me making any given film is like starting up an individual business. There’s an entrepreneurial spirit to 127 Hours; it illustrates that to make a good film, all you need is a good idea — however simple. Of course, you need good execution, too. This film has both.
