127 Hours vs L.A. Story

Few directors make movies as harrowing and visceral as those of Danny Boyle, and even fewer as fun. Boyle puts some tragic, gruesome, shocking things on screen, yet I always have a blast when I see his movies. If I ever have bad news for you guys, I’m gonna ask Danny Boyle to tell you for me. If it’s something drastic and terrifying, like “We need to cut up the body in the spare room” or “Most people are zombies now”, then he’s got us covered.

127 Hours gives Boyle his most down-to-earth (literally) plot: a rock climber is trapped in a deep crevasse, with his arm pinned by a boulder. No one knows he’s there, and he has limited supplies. True story.

127 Hours recounts the time spent in that crevasse by Aron Rolston, an experienced hiker who didn’t tell anyone where he would be, only brought about half a day’s water and food, no knife, no kerchiefed dog with a sense of direction. Aron’s a free spirit with a good sense of humor who spent the earlier part of his day palling around with a couple cute girls he met in the dessert. They’re played by Kate Mara and Amber Tamblyn, and they’re pretty fun, but don’t get used to them. They share a limited amount of screen time with Aron, and once they’re gone, it’s just him, stuck in those rocks, trying to think of a way out.

By now, you probably know what he does to get free from the crevasse. Danny Boyle knows we know what’s coming (spoiler: HE CUTS HIS FUCKING ARM OFF.), and knows that since he’s Danny Boyle he’s going to show the gruesome act in all it’s terrifying glory. And the act (which I won’t spoil here. Oh, wait.) is indeed filmed with shocking, stressful realism. But the act itself (ARM.) isn’t the most compelling part of the movie. It’s the lead-up, all the time spent in the crevasse waiting for help, trying different escape tactics, filming goodbye videos, that will really get you. And for the bulk of 127 Hours, it’s just Aron and that damn, unmovable rock. Aron is played by James Franco, in one of the best performances this year. Once he’s trapped in the crevasse, we see that Aron’s go-with-the-flow attitude is a cultivated one, and that he’s actually intelligent, self-aware, and unfortunately for anyone trapped in a small space, hyper. Dude needs the wide open spaces, because he’s uncontainable. Lack of food, water and sleep might cause energy loss and hallucinations, and will eventually kill you. But that small space closing in is what will bug the most, and I’m guessing that’s what finally got Aron to man up and take his life back from that rock (He has to break his arm first. You realize that, right?). All of the advance press for 127 Hours make Aron’s act (CUTTING OFF) one of desperation (HIS FUCKING ARM), but by the time he gets down to business, you’ll see it was actually one of bad-ass self control. James Franco alternates between the fun and tough sides of Aron’s personality and predicament with ease. He never intensifies the moments of Aron’s struggle. The rock walls on all sides do that for him. Franco keeps 127 Hours as light as possible; by the end I was hoping for his freedom, partly because of the severity of the situation, and partly because I just like that actor so much.

As with his other movies, Danny Boyle makes sure there’s fun to be had in 127 Hours. Besides the brief flirtation with the girl hikers, Aron finds time for levity and self-deprecation during his rock imprisonment. In the film’s funniest scene, he’s visited by a vision of Blue John, the gold prospector the canyon Aron’s trapped in was named after. And in the opening scenes, Aron is shown at the top of his outdoorsy energy, with fast cuts and split screens showing the busy world, full of free people doing as they please on sunny days. Once Aron’s in that crevasse, there’s no happiness to cut to, because Aron isn’t living in the world. He’s buried alive, not a citizen of anything, free or otherwise, unless he does something about it. You’d cut your arm off too.

At the end of 127 Hours, I had a headache and tears streaming down my face. It’s good, but I wouldn’t subject you to anything that intense twice in one day. Steve Martin’s L.A. Story tells a similar story, in a fashion, without a single spilled drop of blood.

Martin plays Harris Telemacher--whose name probably means something—a weather man in Los Angeles. Harris is at once above his peers in L.A. and perfect for them. He’s mastered their shallow rhythms and conversations, while in his free time being more open to fun and ideas (his buddy films him skating through a museum). He gets fired from his job and finds out his wife (Marilu Henner) has been unfaithful, and winds up in some sort of L.A. version of a Woody Allen existential crisis. Harris is funnier, smarter, and more self-aware than his peers.  He’d obviously love some sort of bon mot-dropping group of intellectual friends, but he hasn’t found it in L.A. What he finds instead, at first, is ultimate valley girl SanDeE*, played by Sarah Jessica Parker in what might as well be her first movie. Martin and Parker have hilarious, energetic chemistry; they’re practically bouyant. SanDeE* (the spelling of her name is a throwaway joke in the movie, but it’s the one everyone remembers) is new-agey and impulsive, and jumpstarts Harris on his quest for enlightenment (which, like the West Coast Woody he is, also makes him more neurotic). Added to that is a highway sign that seems to be communicating directly with Harris, and another woman, Sara, (Victoria Tennant, Martin’s wife for a while), who just might be the person to finally set Harris free from his mid-life rut.*

*You thought I was going to say he was stuck in an emotional crevasse or something, didn’t you? Come on, I work harder than that.

L.A. Story is lighter and sillier than 127 Hours. Most movies are. And while the beginning of the movie sets up the lifestyle Harris is accustomed to, one of freeways and lunches and potential movie stars, the contrast with the frothier times with SanDeE*, and the simpler, more romantic ones with Sara is maybe just a little too stark. L.A. Story gets sweeter, slower, quieter and more heartfelt as it goes along. It’s probably what Harris needs. After 127 Hours, you might appreciate the way L.A. Story winds down towards his conclusion. You might also wish, as I do, that it didn’t lose any of its fun along the way.

127 Hours: A

L.A. Story: B