Film Review: 127 Hours [dir. Danny Boyle; 2010]

Several people have claimed there's no need to watch Boyle's latest film because the fact that everyone knows the plot's ending drains the movie of all tension. Hitchcock would probably have said that the suspense actually stems from the certainty that the credits won't roll until the bloody deed has been carried out, and he would have been right. When it does finally arrive, the climax is suitably visceral and cringe-making, but it would have been far more effective had it been preceded by a few judicious lulls in the action. In his attempt to place the audience right in the core of adrenaline-junkie Aron Ralston's predicament - his arm was irretrievably lodged beneath a rock during a freak accident in an isolated Utah canyon - Boyle appears too frightened to allow the pace to slow down for an instant. The viewer is constantly attacked by surreal visions, split-screen techniques and quick-fire editing, to the extent that one is never allowed to appreciate the more reflective moments of what must, at times, have been a profoundly still and silent experience. The film's use of sound and music is masterful and James Franco delivers a commendable performance, but a less manic telling of this extraordinary story would have been more memorable.