Spectacular Stunt
127 Hours
Directed by Danny Boyle
Runtime: 93 min.
After making Slumdog Millionaire, arguably the worst movie ever to win the Best Picture Oscar, Danny Boyle surprisingly comes up with a not-bad film. 127 Hours, the true-life story of Aron Ralstons 2003 rock-climbing mishap, makes acceptable use of Boyles usually egregious flamboyance. The potentially off-putting facts and limitations of how 28-year-old Ralston spent almost four days pinned by a boulder in Colorados Blue John Canyon and had to sever his own right arm to escape demands Boyles focus on the dilemmas surface sentiment.
All of Boyles imagination goes into keeping the storys narrative monotony from being boring. The films primary impact comes from cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantles hyperbolic videography. He shoots the works: highlighting atmosphere, water from a faucet traveling the core of a straw, telescopic scenes of street crowds, microscopic close-ups of Ralstons contact lenses, split-screen multiplication of Ralstons mountain-bike excursion, a few clever, triptych representations of the same activity to convey times passing and sometimes shots of Ralston from the rocky terrains POV.
These montages seem descriptive of life experience, though only superficially. Theyre like TV-commercial details but with the extravagance of big-screen technological innovation: the blatant use of pixels and the nearly artificial hard, bright color that digital resolution gives to nature and flesh which, in themselves, becomes a form of entertainment. Boyle doesnt concentrate on the spiritual crisis of Ralstons imprisonment as Bressons great A Man Escaped pondered the depth of an isolated mans sense of time and mortality. Boyle lacks depth and so plays to his mettle: turning Ralstons predicament into a spectacular stunt. Thats why 127 Hours never descends into a vat of manure as Slumdog did aesthetically and literally.
Much of 127 Hours is a test of photographic realismthe latest step in Boyles constant play with techno trickery (such as his zombie flicks 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later) that makes him a frivolous Fincher. Aestheticizing Ralstons calamity animates Boyles facile themes of modernity vs. nature, body vs. mind. When Ralston meets two female hikers and they dive into a grotto, the ostentatious splash makes a point of visual pixels, not analytically, as in Godards newest video provocation Film Socialisme, yet Boyles obvious style announces our contemporary physical and emotional distance from nature. This time, Boyles flamboyance is almost rigorous. Even the cheap distraction of a desert thunderstorm that nearly drowns Ralston is at least a distraction (until it briefly becomes a cheap fantasy tease about rescue).
Because Boyles subject is Ralstons middle-class American arrogance regarding his own charm, ability and pleasure, 127 Hours doesnt raise those embarrassing Slumdog issues of poverty, deprivation and social corruption. His stylistic excess that was so ruinous in the overwrought Slumdog and the equally far-fetched Scottish-junkies movie Trainspotting is relatively contained. Its not so much that the storys simplicity mandates narrative discipline (Boyle lacks discipline) but that his flashy fatuousness is uncannily right to convey an adult-kids follya truth Sean Penn neglected in Into the World. An aspect of Ralstons situation suggests cosmic comedy; acknowledging dumb fate makes the later, grave family moments seem well measured and never insultingly mawkish like Slumdog.
The movies MVP is the ubiquitous James Franco, whose real-life propensity for art-stunts is reflected in Ralstons recklessness. Franco channels some of the same expressive reserve he displayed in Altmans The Company, embodying a quiet, always-thinking solitude. He doesnt turn 127 Hours into a hipster version of Bresson (nor Van Sants insufferable desert trek Gerry); rather, he creates a fairly authentic portrait of a sweetly dumb American male loner who fears being stuck existentially and romantically.
This is blessedly different from how Ryan Reynolds is used to condemn American foreign policy in Buried, the dour, one-man-movie political diatribe. Boyles flashbacks work off of Francos gift of gentle innocence. Questioning his own solitudeYou didnt tell anyone?he then repeats, Anyone? in a good instance of self-critical shame. Boyles fancy staging (including a pocket cams double-image of Ralston) makes this po-mo moment genuinely thoughtful. Ralstons memories (including a childhood hide-and-seek game recalled and regretted) arent merely mushy: memory and guilt reflect on each other because Francos characterization has substance. Despite this era of godless movies, listen to the way Franco says, Please, as a modest prayer. And when he does it again, saying, Thank you, at the adventures end, he could as well be addressing Boyle.