Instead, I opted for the man who needs no first name (at least in my book), Franco in "127 Hours." Though my (edited for space) review is in the print edition of the Union-Tribune today (11/19), it has yet to be posted online (this happens every week, much to my disappointment). So while I wait for them to put it up, I thought I'd share it here, complete with the final paragraph, which urges you to get over the fainting stories and just go see the damn thing. Here you go...
"127 Hours"
Rated: R
Running Time: 1 hour, 33 minutes
3 ½ stars
When outdoor adventurer Aron Ralston emerged from a Utah canyon with one arm and an inspiring --though gruesome--story of survival, many of us took a moment to consider how we would’ve responded in the same situation. Could I cut off my own arm if it meant saving my life? Just how strong is my will to live?
Here’s what most of us didn’t think: Wow, that would make a terrific movie.
And that’s why most of us aren’t Danny Boyle, the British filmmaker known for taking chances and making movies that at first might seem unpalatable: the highs and lows of the junkie lifestyle (“Trainspotting”), a country overtaken by infected “zombies” (“28 Days Later”), and the injustice of India’s slums in the Oscar-winning crowd pleaser, “Slumdog Millionaire.” With his latest release, "127 Hours," Boyle takes us deep inside a remote sliver of canyon, where Ralston (James Franco) is trapped, his forearm pinned beneath a massive boulder—and no one coming to the rescue.
Before the fall that made him famous, Ralston is introduced in a mad rush to escape. What exactly is he escaping? Normal life. The daily commute. The rate race. All shown to us in split screen as Ralston tears through his apartment, ignoring phone calls from his family and hastily packing for his weekly solo adventure into the wild.
But once he gets there, he’s hardly the picture of serenity. In fact, he’s whipped into his own frenzy of stubborn individuality, risk-taking and, as he demonstrates when he crosses paths with a pair of female hikers (Kate Mara, Amber Tamblyn), exhilarating cockiness – all of which slams to a halt with one unfortunately placed rock.
Ralston may be pinned in one spot, but Boyle’s camera is anything but, taking us to every place a frantic mind could wander while under such strain: sloshing inside a water bottle as its contents recede, through the lens of the camera Ralston uses to record his desperate thoughts, inside abstract patches of Ralston’s memory-- even under the skin of the doomed arm as his blunt knife cuts its way through.
But Franco is the vehicle that makes "127 Hours" more than just an exercise in claustrophobic endurance. As he’s proven with his oddly ambitious forays into everything from advanced Ivy League degrees to an experimental stint on a soap opera, Franco shows an unbridled willingness to play along and break new ground. And the fact that he
makes this Oscar-worthy performance look so easy, has you wondering what this modern Renaissance man can’t do.
And now the inevitable topic -- the self-amputation, which has led to a few reported cases of audience members fainting. Yes, it is a painful scene to watch, thanks to Franco’s courageous performance and Boyle’s superb assemblage of images and sound (I still can’t shake the nails-on-a-chalkboard chord that struck as Ralston sliced through the arm’s primary nerve).
But the scene is more than just a headline-grabbing gimmick. By the time Ralston arrives at this decision, he’s faced the personal failures that led him to this isolated place. They aren’t grand mistakes, just the small slights we all are guilty of, yet rarely get the chance to meditate upon—let alone rectify.
But Ralston does get the chance, and by the time we get to the cutting, it feels less like a horrific choice than one more stubborn obstacle to overcome before he can begin life anew. If it were possible, I would’ve ripped the appendage off for him myself.
Don't forget Franco's cameo as himself on 30 Rock with his Japanese body pillow love interest.
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