127 Hours (USA/UK, 2010, Danny Boyle)
Ben Livant:
Tagline: The Can't-Flex-This Pain-Saw Self-Massacre.
As I have not done it, I can only suppose that the best thing to do would be to read the book, Between a Rock and a Hard Place. I can say this having seen the NBC television special that tells the story by documenting Ralston's return to the scene of the accident and recollection of his experience six months after the fact, guided by the interviewing prompts of Tom Brokaw. There are things about this documentary that are bothersome, most especially Brokaw's insistence on interpreting the tale along a quasi-religious "born again" line that he imposes on both Ralston and his mother. Also problematic is the slightly sensationalistic voyeurism of the TV show, in particular when Ralston confronts his moments of utter despair. On the other hand (ouch!), Ralston is clearly enthusiastic about overcoming his trauma and willingly participates in all aspects of the program.
Indeed, a cynic would observe that Ralston has become a keen self-promoter since his ordeal, which he has managed to parlay into a nice little industry; the book, motivational speaking engagements and now a feature length movie nominated for some Academy Awards. I am not such a cynic. The man is the real deal. You've simply got to hand it to him (yikes!) because even if you don't, he's going to take it. Talk about a can-do attitude. Talk about a staggeringly exceptional individual with outstanding abilities. Talk about a truly unique human being with an inspiring mixture of athletic and intellectual prowess. Talk about a character with a story that... yeah, talk about it. How come 127 Hours doesn't actually talk about it, get into it, tell it to the fullest?
With all due respect to Franco's performance, the director, Danny Boyle hijacked the story for a chance to show off his visual style. I saw 127 Hours prior to watching the NBC special. I cut Boyle considerable slack at that point because I reckoned he was providing a cinimatographic solution to the problem of presenting a drama that occurs entirely within the psychological interior of an individual. But after seeing the TV show, it is clear that in real life, Ralston said things to himself (and the terrifyingly private void he faced) out loud. These little speechs were available for use as dramatic monologues in the film but were not used by the director. What is more, the real life involvement of his family, friends, workplace associates, the other hikers with whom he evetually connected and ultimately the search-and-rescue professionals who ensured his self-salvation - all of this actual drama is squandered by the director.
This is not to suggest that 127 Hours should not have focused as it does on the isolated, absolutely independent struggle of the protagonist. But it is within this obviously correct focus that the film displays itself to be too visually flashy for its own good by half. I do not deny that the film is gripping and entertaining. But in my view, it comes close to trivializing the core power of the story. For all his closet-Christian approach to this, Brokaw at least realizes that his report must reach out and touch the existential ground-zero that Ralson did in reality and everyone in the audience dreads even contemplating. Boyle is too busy splitting the screen into three frames and conducting all the rest of his camera tricks to serve up the facts and let us them tremble at them in awe.
In case this sounds like I am saying only a documentary can do justice to this story, let me announce explicitly that this is not at all what I am saying. I have already expressed certain reservations about the Brokaw-hosted documentary specifically, but this is beside the issue. Picasso famously asserted that, "art is the lie that tells the truth." Personally, I find this dialectic convincing. And it is from this perspective that I find 127 Hours wanting. It is not the empirical surface of the film that is inadequate. It is rather the human spirit - at both its lowest and its highest - that 127 Hours is incapable of representing in art.
To get at this another way, the factual surface of the film is adequate enough, but the substance of the reality is inadequate because the artistic form is not brought to bear on the essential psychological truth. Boyle attempts to extract some drama from the plot but all the drama resides in the dilemma of the situation. Given all the media attention to Ralston already, everyone going in to 127 Hours knows up front that the arm is coming off and the man is going to walk away. But Boyle runs the narrative as if this is not a fait accompli, as if there is some suspense to be generated. There isn't one ounce of suspense to be had, however. It all comes down to the time it takes to do in practice what was figured out in theory fives minutes after the entrapment. That Ralston only figured out five days later that he'd have to break his arm in order to cut himself free is the manifestation of his denial up to that point. But this denial - and the horror associated with it - is the empirical substance of the story, barely penetrated by 127 Hours, too busy with secondary psychological phenomena and a groovy spectacle.
Dan Jardine:
That has to be one of your most tortured tagline puns.
Otherwise, we are pretty much in complete agreement.
The trailer:
Ben Livant:
Tagline: The Can't-Flex-This Pain-Saw Self-Massacre.
As I have not done it, I can only suppose that the best thing to do would be to read the book, Between a Rock and a Hard Place. I can say this having seen the NBC television special that tells the story by documenting Ralston's return to the scene of the accident and recollection of his experience six months after the fact, guided by the interviewing prompts of Tom Brokaw. There are things about this documentary that are bothersome, most especially Brokaw's insistence on interpreting the tale along a quasi-religious "born again" line that he imposes on both Ralston and his mother. Also problematic is the slightly sensationalistic voyeurism of the TV show, in particular when Ralston confronts his moments of utter despair. On the other hand (ouch!), Ralston is clearly enthusiastic about overcoming his trauma and willingly participates in all aspects of the program.
With all due respect to Franco's performance, the director, Danny Boyle hijacked the story for a chance to show off his visual style. I saw 127 Hours prior to watching the NBC special. I cut Boyle considerable slack at that point because I reckoned he was providing a cinimatographic solution to the problem of presenting a drama that occurs entirely within the psychological interior of an individual. But after seeing the TV show, it is clear that in real life, Ralston said things to himself (and the terrifyingly private void he faced) out loud. These little speechs were available for use as dramatic monologues in the film but were not used by the director. What is more, the real life involvement of his family, friends, workplace associates, the other hikers with whom he evetually connected and ultimately the search-and-rescue professionals who ensured his self-salvation - all of this actual drama is squandered by the director.
This is not to suggest that 127 Hours should not have focused as it does on the isolated, absolutely independent struggle of the protagonist. But it is within this obviously correct focus that the film displays itself to be too visually flashy for its own good by half. I do not deny that the film is gripping and entertaining. But in my view, it comes close to trivializing the core power of the story. For all his closet-Christian approach to this, Brokaw at least realizes that his report must reach out and touch the existential ground-zero that Ralson did in reality and everyone in the audience dreads even contemplating. Boyle is too busy splitting the screen into three frames and conducting all the rest of his camera tricks to serve up the facts and let us them tremble at them in awe.
In case this sounds like I am saying only a documentary can do justice to this story, let me announce explicitly that this is not at all what I am saying. I have already expressed certain reservations about the Brokaw-hosted documentary specifically, but this is beside the issue. Picasso famously asserted that, "art is the lie that tells the truth." Personally, I find this dialectic convincing. And it is from this perspective that I find 127 Hours wanting. It is not the empirical surface of the film that is inadequate. It is rather the human spirit - at both its lowest and its highest - that 127 Hours is incapable of representing in art.
To get at this another way, the factual surface of the film is adequate enough, but the substance of the reality is inadequate because the artistic form is not brought to bear on the essential psychological truth. Boyle attempts to extract some drama from the plot but all the drama resides in the dilemma of the situation. Given all the media attention to Ralston already, everyone going in to 127 Hours knows up front that the arm is coming off and the man is going to walk away. But Boyle runs the narrative as if this is not a fait accompli, as if there is some suspense to be generated. There isn't one ounce of suspense to be had, however. It all comes down to the time it takes to do in practice what was figured out in theory fives minutes after the entrapment. That Ralston only figured out five days later that he'd have to break his arm in order to cut himself free is the manifestation of his denial up to that point. But this denial - and the horror associated with it - is the empirical substance of the story, barely penetrated by 127 Hours, too busy with secondary psychological phenomena and a groovy spectacle.
Dan Jardine:
That has to be one of your most tortured tagline puns.
Otherwise, we are pretty much in complete agreement.
The trailer:
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