"127 hours", a newspaper headline told me weeks ago, would be the next film from director danny boyle. i didn't even know what or where these hours were, but i knew i was eagerly awaiting that very discovery.
boyle, the architect behind "slumdog millionaire", "trainspotting", and another handful of varied and skillfully crafted works, had already earned a certain level of my trust.
i read on.
this was to be the story--true story--of a rock climber in utah who becomes caught, quite literally, "between a rock and a hard place" (the aptly titled memoir on which the film is based) and eventually frees himself by amputating his own arm. intense, i thought. i could dig this. and aron ralston, the adventurer, was being portrayed by james franco.
now i'll say this much: i have always been fond of franco. surely his face does not hinder this, but it extends far past the superficial. from his relaxed high school charm in the short-lived judd apatow tv series "freaks & geeks" to his mainstream action spotlight in "spider-man" and his endearing step outside the box in "milk", he is genuinely likable, versatile, and seems to convey some level of depth. further research would show that sir james is actually one of the most driven, complex, and fascinating young actors in the game. between attending graduate school, having his short stories published, and pursuing seemingly countless other side-gigs, it's a wonder he has time to not only be present for his film career, but to give it his all. this guy doesn't sleep. he seems to fulfill himself by filling each hour of the day with something that keeps his mind engaged and always guessing. but why all this business about franco? only for the purpose of convincing you how there couldn't possibly be a better guy to take on such a feat.
once the movie was released in l.a., i was on a mission to go, asap. i walked into the theater already knowing that a few early audience members had not fared so well in the viewing. i had heard of a seizure and some vomiting, but i was convinced that, being (in my opinion) rather desensitized to violence and gore, i would do just fine. i was curious, though, to see if this was going to be the thing to push me over the brink. bring it on, boyle. let's see this. get as nasty as you wanna.
but enough of the background. you want the juice, i get it.
now, if the entire movie is one hour + thirty five minutes, i would guess that a full hour of that is spent down in a crevice with ralston, anticipating the inevitable. therein lies the trouble. immediately upon him becoming trapped, i found myself tightening up my chest, almost forgetting to breathe normally. i continually pestered myself to take the air in and out of my lungs. something about the panic of seeing this man (whose outcome you, in the first few moments of the film, are already deeply invested in) locked into an excruciating and nearly impossible situation makes it difficult to kick back and watch calmly as it unfolds. you feel for him, you like the guy, you don't even want to fathom switching places with him. so instead you sit there and put your energy into him, hoping that it will somehow give him the strength and motivation to watch the sun rise and set over his earthy abode one more time.
it may sound as though the meat of the film is a slow-moving, fish-tank-like observation of ralston sweating out the five days of his predicament. but that's where the artist danny boyle (with credit to his co-writer simon beaufoy) comes back into play, dancing in and out with visual stunners, narrative complexity, and comic relief.
i don't want to spill too many more of the beans before you sit through the adventure for yourself, but i imagine you're eager to know the dish on the gore. the truth is, i expected worse. but maybe i always do. it was certainly tolerable, but i can imagine how for many, it wouldn't be. there will be cringing and there will be blood, but don't let this prevent you from experiencing the rush of inspiration, cinematic artistry, and contemplation this film brings. if your own tolerance concerns you, have a look at this guide to the exact times to bury your eyes in your sleeve and arm yourself (not a pun, that would be in poor taste) accordingly.
beyond that, there's really not too much i want to say about the specifics within the film--you need to do the dirty work yourself. but promise me you will give it a go and won't be put off by the buzz of it being unwatchable due to ralston's few moments of torturous emancipation.
we don't truly know how we'll behave in a situation until we're in it, and "127 hours" gives us the chance to dwell in the trenches with one man confronting that harsh realization. he's done all the legwork; the least you can do is watch, right?
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