Film Review: '127 Hours'

What to do next?

That must be an interesting question for a director to ask himself, especially following Oscar domination. Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire nabbed eight statuettes at the 2009 Academy Awards, quite the rare feat. Boyle returns this year with a wildly different movie, but one that is also unmistakably his.

127 Hours follows the well-known story of Aron Ralston, a climber who amputated his own arm in 2006 after it became lodged under a large boulder in Moab, Utah.

If you watched Slumdog Millionaire and 127 Hours without knowing the director’s name, it wouldn’t be difficult to discern that it’s the same guy. The cuts, edits, colors and surreal feel of Slumdog Millionaire all remain intact. Furthermore, Simon Beaufoy and A.R. Rahman return to provide the script and music, respectively, so it’s not exactly a surprise that 127 and Slumdog feel similar.

Unlike Slumdog, 127 is largely a one-man show. James Franco plays Ralston, and his performance is believable to the point of being jaw-dropping. I cannot imagine another actor playing this part. It’s obvious Franco cared a great deal about the role, and this shows in the obvious care he took in filling it. He’s emotional when he needs to be and funny when the time is right, and the desperation on his face and in his dialogue are palpable.

As the director, it was Boyle’s job to help keep us interested in this tale, which takes place mostly in the narrow canyon where Ralston finds himself trapped. Boyle and Beaufoy pull this off by taking us into Ralston’s thoughts and into his past, giving us a glimpse at what went through his mind while fighting for his life. We see moments from Ralston’s childhood, his time with a past love, and even a few glimpses into his future.

In one genius bit, Boyle demonstrates Ralston’s obvious thirst by showing the audience snippets from beverage commercials. It works exactly as it’s supposed to; I wanted to go fill up my Coca-Cola at the concession stand.

In another wonderful scene, Ralston interviews himself talkshow-style through his camcorder. The scene works very well, and also highlights Ralston's biggest mistake that day: not telling anybody where he was going. Scenes like this also serve to highlight the collaborative nature of the movie: Beaufoy's writing is wonderful, and Boyle hits cinematic perfection in the way he switches views as Franco switches roles during his morbidly funny self-interview.

Some of film's more surreal moments might be a little off-putting to some viewers; I know this because I was one of those viewers. The crowd shots that open and close the movie struck me as a little unnecessary and out of place. If they had a point, aside from making us recall Slumdog's greatness, I must've missed it. That said, these are minuscule nitpicks when compared to the greatness displayed by everyone involved in this picture.

One should not review 127 Hours without touching on the amputation scene. After all, we arguably wouldn’t be seeing this movie if Ralston hadn’t been forced to take such an extreme measure to preserve his own life. The scene itself is handled very tastefully and powerfully. This is not a Saw movie; we actually feel for Ralston after following him through his harrowing 127-hour journey.

All the talk of people fainting while watching the amputation is probably accurate; some people can simply take more than others when going to the movies. Boyle frames the surprisingly short scene very tastefully, and judging from the interviews with Ralston that I’ve come across in recent months, the portrayal is actually very true to how the amputation really went down.

All that said, I was focusing on Franco’s face more than his arm during that scene. The look in his eyes does more than the shattered bones and nerve bundle and gore combined. I would nominate Franco for Best Actor on that merit alone, if I had the privilege of voting in the Academy.

127 Hours is a much smaller film than Slumdog, though it still manages to be a cinematic powerhouse at the same time. The music does not stick out as much as it did in Slumdog, and the story is far simpler, as it should be. This is obviously a Danny Boyle movie through and through; his fingerprints are all over it. Beaufoy is at the top of his game as well.

At the end of the day, however, it's Franco who stands out. Boyle was clearly not afraid to let him run with the role. Strip away all the flashy cuts and surreal touches, and you still have an honest, raw and wonderful performance by a very skilled actor. Franco proves here that he can adeptly carry a film, even when he must do so by filling such a difficult role. James Franco is here to stay, and I could not be more excited to see what he does next.