Remarkable, thoughtful, and tactful

Rating: 10/10 (14 March 2020)

You know what this movie is about, and you've heard the hype. Audience members were reportedly vomiting and leaving the theater during opening weekend because of the amputation scene. Very few movies have had such hype, and as I am a notoriously squeamish viewer, I heeded the advice of my brother and his friends who told me not to rent it. Since it's James Franco's week here at Hot Toasty Rag, I knew I had to rent it; how can you celebrate someone's films and ignore the one that garnered him his only Oscar nomination? I was fully prepared to hide behind my hands or my pillow and had both at the ready, but such drastic measures were never taken.
The great tragedy of the film, and what makes it hard to watch, is that it's based on a true story. As you watch James Franco drink his own urine and eat his contact lenses, you're constantly reminded that someone else actually did those things. It's similar to All is Lost, a one-person drama about a man stranded in the middle of the ocean on a life raft, but with the difference that 127 Hours is not pure entertainment. It's a horrifying tragedy that makes you want to hug your loved ones very tightly.
A movie like this is very tricky to master because the entire audience knows exactly what's going to happen. When we watched James Cameron's Titanic, we were so immersed in the story that even when we saw the iceberg appear, we still thought there was a chance the ship might sail around it. Every scene of 127 Hours is well-timed and well thought out, immersing us so much that even though we know what's going to happen, we're held in incredible suspense as we watch it unfold. In a film focused on an actor pinned down by a rock, the audience could easily get bored, distracted, or taken out of the drama of the scenes. Every scene is riveting and important, and you can hardly stand blinking, let alone getting distracted or looking away. The opening scene shows Franco packing his backpack as he prepares to go on a hike. We know what's going to happen, so we pay attention to his water bottle, Gatorade stash, ropes, flashlight, and of course, his pocketknife. Twice, he's seen reaching blindly on a tall shelf but unable to find his Swiss Army Knife. Filmed from inside the cabinet, the audience cringes and groans as he leaves the knife behind.
The final opening title card isn't shown until 16 minutes in, at the immediate moment Franco falls down the crevice and gets pinned in by the boulder. That brief scene is so fantastic, because even though the audience has been waiting for it to happen, when it does, we get the same sinking feeling in the pit of our stomach as Franco. "It really happened," we say to ourselves as he tugs and pushes in vain.
A self-described "action movie with a guy who can't move," 127 Hours rests entirely on James Franco's shoulders. No matter how fast-paced Jon Harris's editing, no matter how thoughtful Danny Boyle's directing, if the lead actor was unconvincing or unlikable, the movie wouldn't have worked. This is not a slice-of-life movie where a character is showcased for a few days and doesn't have to grow or change; this an exposing, grueling, emotional experience. In ninety minutes, he transforms from someone carefree, confident, sexy, and joyful to someone lonely, frightened, and doomed. Franco is seen urinating uncontrollably, saying goodbye to his parents on his camcorder, and flicking ants off his face. He reaches to feel a glimmer of sunshine with his foot with equal realism as when he admits to the camcorder that he knows when he's going to die.
During the infamous scene, there was plenty of grunting, pain, struggle, and determination that would make any viewer cry out, "Give him his Oscar for crying out loud!" but to me, the moment of aftermath was his greatest moment in the entire film. The shock, incredulity, sorrow, regret, fear, and hope of what he's just accomplished all mingle into an indescribable three seconds. I don't know what James Franco pulled from to give that expression on his face, but the result was remarkable.
Franco delivered an incredible tour-de-force performance that deserved to win an Academy Award every bit as much as Colin Firth's from The King's Speech. No one but Franco himself knows the depth of his disappointment that night, but hopefully he was a little consoled that he got beaten out by a veteran actor who turned out a great performance. 2010 was not another 1955, thank goodness.
Had this movie been made a mere ten years later, I'm sure the amputation scene would have been dragged out and filmed with a far more gruesome mindset. Films have become noticeably bloodier in recent years, and I'm so glad Danny Boyle-who tragically was not even nominated for Best Director-and all involved handled the scene with such tact and care. Trust me; watching this movie will not make you vomit, and you won't need to be carried out of your home theater room in a stretcher. Rent it. You'll love this raw, powerful movie, and you probably won't be able to stop talking about it for weeks afterwards.
DLM Warning: : If you suffer from vertigo or dizzy spells, like my mom does, this movie will not be your friend. Nearly every single minute of the film is shot either in split-screen, with handheld techniques, sudden movements, or odd perspective. Unfortunately it will make you sick. In other words, "Don't Look, Mom!"