REVIEW: James Franco Bids a Farewell to Arm in Danny Boyle's Strangely Cheerful 127 Hours

Aron calls upon every available resource to solve this little problem: He sets a variety of accoutrements he's brought with him (a video camera, a stack of credit cards, his watch, that all-important cheap multi-tool) on the rock before him, as if it were a little worktable. He begins using the tool to chip away at the rock, an existential exercise in futility. He worries aloud about what will happen when his water runs out. He keeps a video record of his daily activities and observations, noting, for example, that he sees the same raven fly overhead every morning at the same time. He thinks about an old girlfriend (played, in flashback, by Clémence Poésy). He mounts a goofy faux radio call-in show, where he's both host and caller, and tapes somber good-bye messages to his family. Stupidly -- and he admits this stupidity to himself many times over in the narrative -- Aron hasn't told anyone where he's going.

It's a small miracle by itself that Boyle and Franco sustain a 94-minute movie that takes place mostly in a crevice that's barely wider than Franco's shoulders. But 127 Hours actually has a much broader setting, in Aron's alternately wise-cracking, alternately despairing mind. Aron talks his way through the movie's minimal action, more often than not making jokes at his own expense, which is why Franco is so perfect for the role: He's an actor who loves self-deprecation much more than he loves himself. As Aron, he chuckles to himself at his own lousy puns; he mutters in frustration at the uselessness of the lame tool that will eventually save his life. I'm now convinced I wouldn't want to see this movie with anyone else in the role; Franco's scruffy-dog charm is the thing that keeps the story buoyant. He seals self-pity, even self-doubt, out of the performance. As Franco plays him, even when Aron is trapped, he's always moving forward.

Of course, there's a jumbo-sized macho challenge at the heart of 127 Hours: Are you man enough to take the tough stuff? I've seen the movie twice, and I can report that the crucial scene is highly unpleasant -- "ewky" is the decidedly unmanly word I would use to describe it -- though Boyle doesn't draw it out unnecessarily. The sound design may be even harder to take than the visuals, particularly the "BZZZT" that sounds when Aron hits a particularly sensitive nerve bundle: It's as if someone were playing a highly amplified game of "Operation" in your head and doing a crap job of taking out the funny bone.

But the worst is over before you know it, and Boyle wastes no time getting on to the next thing, which is the beginning of the rest of Aron's life. The first time I saw 127 Hours I felt both exhilarated and exploited, just a bit, in the cruel way. The second time, I still felt a little exploited, but I also had more admiration for Boyle's unabashed, right-on-the-surface showman wiles. As long as you have an idea of what you're in for, 127 Hours is more weirdly entertaining than it is grim. As macho challenges go, it's really just a pussycat.

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