Monsters (2010)

There are a lot of movies I've checked out solely because they were the works of directors I greatly admire, and I've ended up enjoying most of them, but with this item, it's a bit different: I did check it out because of the director, Gareth Edwards, but it was so I could get a feel for his style so I knew what to expect from a big movie he was directing that I was eagerly waiting for. If you've been following this blog for a long time, you know that I'm a huge fan of Godzilla, to the point where I devoted the better part of 2014 to reviewing all of the movies in that franchise in order to commemorate the release of the Legendary Pictures film. I can't tell you how much I was anticipating that film and I was curious of its young, newcomer director, who'd only done one other film before, one that I'd never even heard of until he was announced as the director of Godzilla. So, when I stumbled across a used copy of the Blu-Ray of Monsters after Christmas of 2013, I saw it as an opportunity to get a handle on the guy. Going in, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I'd heard something of the plot beforehand but no specifics, and I thought the title was very generic. Ultimately, I figured it would probably be a monster movie that wasn't exactly original but would be stylish and entertaining, akin to something like Neil Marshall's Dog Soldiers (not the best example, since I'm not that big on that movie, but it's the closest thing I could use to describe my expectations for Monsters). I couldn't have imagined that I would get a leisurely-paced, quiet road movie centering around two characters, with the monsters themselves and the havoc they cause being little more than a backdrop. It felt like a science fiction version of The Motorcycle Diaries, and I came out of it feeling very mixed. I thought it was well-shot, especially for the tiny budget I knew it had, and the special effects were pretty good, but I also found it very hard to sit through, as I really didn't care for the two characters I was following or their story, and I especially didn't like the lack of scenes with the monsters or the teasing of an appearance by one, only for nothing to happen (which would become something of a trademark from Edwards, as I would soon learn). It remained a polarizing movie up to when I first did this review, although by then, I'd re-watched a couple of time and, now knowing what I was getting into, I could appreciate it much more and understand what Edwards was trying to accomplish, which was quite amazing given the very limited resources he had, and it did have more of an effect on me. But now, after having gone back to it many times, it's a movie I've come to genuinely like for its visuals, atmosphere, and tone, and I will say that the characters have grown on me as well.

Six years ago, a NASA space probe sent to investigate the possibility of extraterrestrial life crashed into the heart of Mexico, now occupied by alien life-forms that spread like wildfire across the northern region of the country. This area, known as the "Infected Zone," has been completely quarantined, with an enormous wall built across the U.S.-Mexico border to keep the creatures, gigantic, squid-like beasts with numerous, spider-like legs, from reaching the U.S., while American and Mexican troops continuously fight to keep them contained. Photojournalist Andrew Kaulder is sent to a devastated Mexican city to find his employer's daughter, Samantha Wynden, whom he locates in a hospital, nursing an injured arm. However, when Kaulder calls back home, he's tasked with escorting Samantha back to the U.S., much to his chagrin. It also becomes clear the journey will not be an easy one, as the train they initially take is forced to stop because of damaged tracks and they learn if they don't make it back within two days, all means of travel to America will be completely blocked. Upon reaching the coast, Kaulder buys Samantha a very expensive ferry ticket for the following morning but this plan goes south when, the next morning, a local woman he spent the night with steals their passports. With the ferry gone, the two of them now have no choice but to journey straight through the Infected Zone, a dangerous trip that the ticket seller arranges for them after Samantha gives him her expensive engagement ring as payment. As they travel through the zone by boat and then by land, aided by various men, the two of them witness and experience the destruction and fear caused by the creatures and the military attacks on them, but also see something of a beauty in them, and when they finally reach the wall, they realize that both they and the world they knew will never be the same.

Just like his movies, Gareth Edwards is something of a very polarizing figure, with some finding him to be a unique genius and others feeling he's a hack. I can't deny that he is a talented guy in the visuals department, as his films always look great, and you also have to admire his determination to make this type of movie for only $500,000 (if that, according to some sources), to write and direct it in the very unusual manner in which he did, literally taking it on the road, and also acting both as cinematographer and visual effects artist, the latter of which he'd done before on television shows, movies, and documentaries. When it comes to telling a well-paced story with interesting characters, however, Edwards is more than a little weak and seems determined to screw with people's expectations in a way that's kind of annoying, particularly in Godzilla, where he continually cuts away from the monster action to focus on people you don't care about. As a story, Monsters works better than Godzilla because of how unique it is and how there are no lofty expectations that come with it, since it's something Edwards himself conceived, but it still has some of those same problems. I do, however, think Edwards improved substantially with Rogue One, as that story and the majority of those characters kept me interested throughout and I really enjoyed the climactic battle, making it his best film in my eyes (although, I've since learned that movie was pretty extensively reshot, making me wonder how much of it I can credit to him).

Edwards has said his biggest goal was to have a film where really good special effects punctuated an already engaging story, one with characters you genuinely care about, but for me, even though I like them more now than I did, the two lead characters aren't the most memorable parts of the movie. That's not for the typical reasons like bad acting, lack of development, or the characters just being plain unlikable, as none of them apply. In fact, I'm not sure what it is other than both of them just feel kind of... there. You certainly get to know them over the course of the movie, and they're definitely not unlikable, even though they have their faults, but nothing about them really grabs me. Again, I can't say it's a case of bad acting, as neither of them are awful, but at the same time, they're not awe-inspiring. Edwards wanted the two of them to feel as real as possible, right down to the fact that he hired a real-life couple (Scoot McNairy and Whitney Able) and, rather than write dialogue for them, gave them only key plot-points to work with and an idea of what needed to be conveyed in a given scene so their interactions would feel more genuine, but sometimes, real just isn't interesting and I think that's the issue here. Maybe they are acting and reacting the way people would if this were truly happening and, while that can work, here it feels like the end result is your following around two people who don't have much personality to them. I didn't spend the movie wishing they would die but, at the same time, their developing relationship and the ultimate revelation of the meaning of the film's random opening concerning them didn't have much of an impact on me.

Both of the actors do have a lot to work with. McNairy portrays Andrew Kaulder as a rather jaded photojournalist who's in Mexico in order to photograph the creatures and the havoc they cause, particularly keen on getting a shot of a live one, which pays a lot of money, and is none too happy when he has to act as a chaperone for Samantha and get her back to the United States. He's especially irked over being threatened with losing his job if he doesn't do it and is quite impatient with Samantha at first, although he slowly grows to like her as the story progresses. After she misses the ferry when he discovers too late that the woman he spent the night with stole their passports, Kaulder, at first, tries to get another ticket just for her, but when it's made clear she'll have to go through the Infected Zone in order to reach America, having to sell her engagement ring to pay for passage, he decides to go with her. As they travel, Samantha, and the audience, learns several things about Kaulder. When she asks him if it bothers him that, in order for him to benefit, something bad has to happen to someone, his initial response is, "You mean, like a doctor?" and then clarifies that pictures of death and destruction get more money from his boss, and her father, than anything happy. He says he doesn't cause the grief, he just documents it, hinting that it's not a job he's completely satisfied with but, of course, he has to make a living, even if he has to take pictures when they're in potential danger. More significantly, she learns that Kaulder has a kid from a past relationship, one he's allowed to talk to and visit, but not divulge the truth concerning his parentage, as his mother's now married. As much as it hurts him, Kaulder goes along with it so as not to cause the kid any confusion and he's clearly the one thing he cares about, as he tries to call him whenever he gets a chance, especially since he's not going to make it home in time for his birthday. The scene at the end where Kaulder finally gets to talk to his son over the phone and begins to cry, both from missing his birthday and not being able to tell him the truth, is the one point where I think the acting goes from just being good to quite affecting, although it still doesn't have too much of an impact on me.

Whitney Able, whom I've since learned went to the same high school as myself, also plays Samantha "Sam" Wynden with a lot of baggage, although the details are left ambiguous. You never learn why she was in Mexico at the time of the monster attack (Kaulder asks her but never gets an answer) and while you do learn she has an engagement she doesn't seem too thrilled about, you never learn why or if it had anything to do with her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She never lets on that her fiancé is a bad guy or abusive or only interested in her because she comes from a wealthy family, and, in fact, when she calls him after they reach the abandoned gas station upon crossing the border, her responses to his questions hint at a caring guy who even offered to come by and get her, so you can only guess as to why she feels the way she does. I personally think it has something to do with her father, whom she calls before they board the train at the beginning of the movie, as, judging from his voice, he comes across as a bit overbearing and patronizing, particularly when he demands to speak to Kaulder even though she tries to make him understand they need to board the train. I'd bet money he's probably pushing her into this marriage. One thing that is clear about Sam is she's much more sensitive to the death and suffering they see than Kaulder is and often shows a lot sympathy for those affected, especially children. And, like Kaulder, by the time the two of them finally make it through the Infected Zone and reach the border, she's a much different person than she was when the journey started and doesn't want to leave him and go home, although they're forced to when the military picks them up. Their ultimate fates are left ambiguous, as you don't know if they were killed in the ambush and resulting battle seen at the beginning or managed to escape the blast of the missile fired at the creature that attacked them.

Aside from the two leads, all of the other characters in the film are real people rather than actors and ended up on camera simply because they happened to be there when Gareth Edwards and company arrived (the armed men who escort Kaulder and Sam through the interiors of the Infected Zone were actually the filmmakers' personal bodyguards). As a result, and because they're onscreen so briefly, there's not much point in talking about all of them, save for one exception: the ferry ticket seller (Mario Zuniga Benavides). This guy was working in the diner at the spot where Edwards decided to shoot and turned out to be one of the best actors in the film, as he plays the character as a real fast-talker who drives a hard bargain and doesn't feel all that trustworthy given the ridiculous price he asks for a ticket. And the next day, he's not exactly sympathetic to Kaulder and Sam's problem, telling Kaulder a couple of times, "It's not my problem," and that he'll need twice the amount money to arrange such a dangerous trip through the Infected Zone, which is why Sam is forced to give up her engagement ring.

What I find most interesting about Monsters is the very guerilla style way in which it was filmed, which is so unheard for this type of movie in today's age. Basically, working from just an outline, all Gareth Edwards and his crew did was drive around Central America and if they found people and places they thought would fit well into the story, they shot it, often without any official permission. Filming at real locations without permission is not unheard of, but it's the idea of a movie that features a number of special effects being shot almost entirely on the fly that really blows my mind. It was also shot entirely on digital cameras rather than 35mm and even edited on a laptop, making it feel more like a very good-looking student film than something meant to be shown in theaters. And that's something else: despite the tiny budget and guerilla-style shooting, the movie looks pretty damn good. It has a much grittier feel to it than Edwards' later, infinitely more big-budget movies, but this is no slouch in the visual department either, thanks to the digital cameras and the amazing locations. I've always loved the way Central America looks, with all of the rainforests and rivers, and this film makes them look both mysterious and beautiful, especially in the moments shot at dusk. Ironically, the sequences in the Infected Zone look more appealing than those shot in the actual towns and cities of Mexico, which look grimy, sleazy, and dirty, as is sadly the case in reality. Take the motel Kaulder and Sam stay in on the second night, for instance. It really looks like one of those places you'd want to avoid staying in unless you had no choice at all. But what's most affecting is the memorial they come across for the people who've been killed by the monsters and the bombings, which was a real thing they filmed and later tweaked with effects to make it serve the story. That's about as real as you can get.

In wanting to create the "most realistic monster movie ever" and make it as far removed from a Hollywood blockbuster as he could, Edwards said that one of his goals was to create a world where the existence of monsters has become an accepted part of life that people don't really pay attention to anymore. His analogy was, "If Cloverfield was 9/11, then our movie is the War on Terror." Six years after the alien creatures first started popping up, their existence has now become an accepted

part of the world and life is simply going on as it was before they first appeared, just as it did in real life after the shock of the terrorist attacks slowly went away. For Edwards, the scene that best quantified this is when Kaulder and Sam arrive at the motel, turn on the TV in Sam's room to news footage of the military battling one of the monsters, and they don't even pay attention to it because they've seen it all before, instead engaging in simple small-talk. You also see old billboards

portraying the monsters, maps showing the reach of the Infected Zone, and an animated public service announcement showing kids what to do in case of an attack, showing how much this situation has become a part of everyday life, and the same goes for the sight of dead monsters lying atop the ruins of demolished buildings. The film also addresses how the people of southern Mexico can continue to live there with the ever-present threat of monster attacks, exemplified by a moment early on when Sam asks a taxi driver why they don't just

move away and he answers, "Where would we go? My work, my family is all here. This happens every year. We just take our chances." Edwards likened it to hurricanes and how people who don't move away because of the threat they pose; they just go about their daily lives until, during certain times of the year, they have to prepare to batten down the hatches, which is the case here with the monsters' yearly migrations. Definitely an interesting concept for a monster movie, one that lives up to the tagline, "Now, it's our turn to adapt."

In another attempt to make the movie as atypical as possible, Edwards decided to not only keep the monsters themselves off-camera for most of the film but also to stray away from the characters getting caught up in the ongoing battles with them except for a few notable moments. He said to imagine that the real action is going on over the nearby ridge, while the characters you're following would obviously want to do everything to avoid it and instead go around, only blundering into it those few times when they're forced to go through the Infected Zone. The best examples of this idea are when they hear the monsters' wail in the distance a couple of times during their journey but manage to slip away before anything happens. The first time I watched Monsters, those moments really annoyed me and I felt like I was being repeatedly teased with no payoff, but now that I understand what Edwards was going for, I can appreciate the idea of the characters arriving at a scene of carnage and destruction either too soon or, more often, too late. He's also said that he finds the aftermath of a disaster more affecting than seeing it happen, which is why you have so many sequences of cities and towns that have gone through complete hell, with dead monsters lying here and there, most notably with the town they find upon crossing the border that looks as if it's been bombed (which it might have been, considering how the movie starts). In retrospect, I do find that to be an interesting direction to go with in a monster movie... I just wish he hadn't continued with it when he made Godzilla, where I do find it to be an annoying tease, but that's a story for another day.

Maybe it's just me but, when I first saw the movie, I thought the designs of the creatures were just kind of "eh." They certainly look good, thanks to the special effects courtesy of Edwards himself, but to me, it feels like ever since Cloverfield, giant monsters have been continuously conceived as insect-like in some way, often with long, spindly legs, with other examples being the creature in Super 8 or even the MUTOs in Godzilla later on. Like everything else, upon repeated viewings, they've grown on me, as I think they are interesting-looking creatures, feeling like a combination of several different types of animals. Their heads are shaped like that of an octopus, their tentacles are akin to those of a squid, and they have long legs like spiders, as well as bio-luminescence akin to deep-sea creatures, which makes them look surprisingly beautiful during the final scene at the gas station. They also appear to be attracted to lights or anything electrical, as seen when the one creature sticks its tentacles into the gas station and approaches the TV inside. Like the Aliens, you also get a sense of their biology and life-cycles, learning that the name, "Infected Zone," refers to how they lay their eggs in the trees (there's a shot suggesting they either develop inside mushrooms on the sides of the trees or the eggs themselves simply look like mushrooms) and, once they hatch, they make their way into the rivers and ocean, where they grow. The destruction they cause tend to be due to their yearly migrations, which take them through populated areas, and while they're definitely very aggressive and willing and able to defend themselves if threatened, one of Kaulder and Sam's guides through the Infected Zone says if you don't bother them, they won't hurt you, and it's often the military's bombing of them that leads to the attacks.

Like a lot of monster movies, this film tries to make the case that the titular creatures aren't really bloodthirsty, evil demons but just animals doing what they do. You do see how frightening and dangerous they are, with the death and destruction they cause and the creepy ways they're initially filmed, such as in the night-vision shots of the military battling them that open the movie and appear on the news, or Kaulder and Sam's viewpoint during a scene in a van when one of the creatures kills their guides and everyone else, which is followed up by Kaulder finding their mangled bodies the next morning (we don't get a good look but Kaulder's expressions and what little we do see are enough). Also, the implications at the end, that they've managed to make it across the border and into the U.S., are unsettling, punctuated by the devastated town Kaulder and Sam come across. But, just when you think these things truly are nothing more than monsters, you have the final scene, where two of them come together right behind the gas station and gently mate. There's a reason why this scene is talked about so often, as it's definitely the best one in the whole film. It would actually make for an amazing short for its atmospheric beauty, as everything from the effects, the location, the creatures' bioluminescent glowing, the sounds they make, the lightning flashing in the distance, and the music is all just perfect. I also like when the creatures finish and go their separate ways and you can still see them glowing in the dark as they move off into the distance. For me, that one simple scene got across the idea that these things are just animals at the end of the day and that there is a gentleness and beauty to them, in spite of the havoc they cause. Their vocalizations, which are usually loud, unearthly wails and roars, come as very sweet and even loving when these two emit mating calls to each other (something else these creatures share with the male and female MUTOs in Edwards' Godzilla). Ultimately, which party are the "monsters" the title refers to is left ambiguous, as this is not a film that paints mankind as a killer of nature, despite the gun-ho nature of the soldiers who pick up Kaulder and Sam, but rather, as trying to defend itself, while also showing that the creatures are not evil (in fact, their presence is shown to have made the Infected Zone a rather lush, healthy ecosystem). There are no heroes and villains here; just two species trying to survive.

Another thing that astonishes me about Gareth Edwards is the notion that he created all of the digital effects himself, in his apartment, on his home computer, and it's even more mind-blowing that they turned out good as they did. The obvious things to point to are the creatures which, even though you know they are CGI, look just as good as any digitally-created monsters you'd see in a mega-budget, Hollywood blockbuster (Edwards spent a long time on them and it shows). Even more astonishing are the visual effects that are so good, you don't even know they are effects, which is everything that wasn't there on location, be they tanks, fighter jets, crashed vehicles, the big wall separating Mexico from the U.S., and all of the signs and text that correlate to the film's story. They're right in front of you, often not too far away from the camera, but they're because so well-done and are things you see in everyday life, you would never guess they were created inside of a computer, and that is where Edwards' talents lie. I really wish I could do the stuff he does on the laptop I'm using to type this! I know he used everyday effects software that you could buy in a store and he credits it to the advancements of digital technology since the 2000's, but there is something to how he himself used it, because I rarely see it used as effectively as this.

Given the main backdrop of the story and the plot of Kaulder and Samantha having to pay for passage to the border, meeting up with Mexican families desperate to make it over there too along the way, inevitably somebody is going to point to the film as being a commentary on the Mexico-America border situation, but Edwards has always insisted that was the furthest thing from his mind when he came up with the story. I'm not one of those people who tries to see things in films and TV that aren't

there, especially political statements, so I can buy the idea that the parallel was just a big coincidence and Edwards simply decided to set the story in an exotic location like Mexico (if he really did have a political agenda in mind, he apparently was much more subtle about it than I hear Robert Rodriguez was in Machete, which came out the same year). But, it is interesting to note the feeling of oppression that's befallen the Mexican people, not just from the monsters but also from the military

airstrikes against them, given those animated public service announcements about what to do in case of such a scenario, the ready availability of gas masks, and some anti-bombing graffiti seen here and there. I've also heard some people interpret the notion of the characters' eagerness to make it out, in particular Kaulder's line to Samantha early on that she'll soon be back home and will be able to forget about it all, as being an implication that what's going on in Mexico happens to people who live somewhere "other than America," and there could be something to that. What's more, their being surprised when they learn of the chemical weapons used against the monsters, a well-known and constant threat locally, could be seen as a subtle hint that most people in America are unaware of what's really going on down south and that the American government is determined to keep it Mexico's problem. Again, I'm not say that's absolutely what the movie is trying to say; I'm only saying you could see that if you wished to, and since Edwards is one of those filmmakers who feels it's best to leave some things up to the audience, why not?

One other aspect of Monsters that I have no problems with at all is the sparingly-used music score by Jon Hopkins, a very subtle, airy work that fits well with the low-key, quiet nature of the film. My favorite is the main theme, which you hear in full over the ending credits: a very beautiful, emotional piece that never becomes too loud or overbearing and, as I feel all pieces played over ending credits should, leaves you reflecting on what you've just seen. After the sweeping beginning, it segues into a very soft, sad-sounding piano piece, accompanied by ethereal background sounds, that becomes very, very quiet near the end, finishing on an eerie, humming sort of sound. Iterations of the two halves of this main theme are heard throughout the film, notable examples being a more synthesized, plucking version of the first half when they see the candle-filled memorials and the use of the latter half when they're talking around the campfire. Most of the rest of the music is done in this same subtle, emotional manner. You have a very otherworldly, wondrous bit that plays when Kaulder and Sam are shown the spores in the trees and a mysterious piece that has a sort-of vocalizing that leads into a softly reverberating sound when they come across the old temple that's been overtaken by the rainforest near the end. The only pieces of music that are frightening and suspenseful is a threatening one you hear when the convoy Kaulder and Sam end up in is attacked by a monster, and when the one appears over the gas station that Sam is in at the end and sticks its tentacles inside, and even that leads into a very pretty, haunting piece when the other creature appears and the two of them mate.

Monsters is definitely an interesting film and one that has grown on me over time, although I don't think it's completely flawless. It does have a lot going for it, such as well-done cinematography and good use of locations for such a low-budget, very impressive visual and creature effects which are even more astounding when you know they were all done by the director in his apartment, a unique way of presenting the monsters themselves and the world in which exist, and a beautiful, ethereal music score. Also the guerilla, on-the-fly way in which it was conceived and shot is definitely unique and to be admired, given how well it turned out. Unfortunately, it fails in delivering on Gareth Edwards' biggest hope, which is two lead characters I really, truly care about. Again, I don't hate them at all, and they're certainly not bad actors, but, at the same time, they feel very unremarkable and just a means to move the plot along. And while his goal to create the most realistic monster movie was an interesting one, I feel certain aspects of this film prove that "real" isn't always entertaining. In recommending the movie, I do so to people who know that what they're getting is not a movie where you'll see monsters smashing things and ripping people apart left and right but, rather, a subdued, dramatic road movie with a science fiction backdrop. If you're up for that, then I'd say check it out, because it does have a lot to recommend it; otherwise, you may want to steer clear, as it could easily come across as boring.

127 Hours (2010)

I first became aware of this film when I saw a preview for its home video release on either a DVD or Blu-Ray (I can't remember at all what movie it was) and, initially, I thought it might have been a direct-to-video release or, at the most, a theatrical movie that nobody had heard of and had slipped quietly in and out of theaters. Boy, would I learn I was wrong about that but, regardless, I was intrigued by the story and setting, and my interest was especially piqued when I heard somebody who normally isn't a big fan of James Franco give it some of the highest praise imaginable. It didn't take much longer for me to decide that I would eventually seek this movie out, ultimately picking up the Blu-Ray for very cheap at Best Buy in the summer of 2015, mainly because I wanted to watch some things that were very definitely summertime-oriented and this, with its desert canyon setting, seemed to fit the bill; the fact that I was also apparently getting an inspiring, well-made story was just icing on the cake. It wasn't until I picked up that Blu-Ray that I learned that the movie was directed by Danny Boyle and also that it was an absolute critical darling, with a quote from the New York Times' glowing review prominent on the front cover and Roger Ebert's perfect four-star rating on the back. However, critical praise means little to me, as I've long since learned to save judgement for something until I see it for myself and also because I've been burned before by movies that were very acclaimed. Case in point: once I finally did get around to watching 127 Hours, I came out of it feeling rather underwhelmed, unaffected, and surprisingly emotionless. I was mainly taken aback and thrown by how overly-stylized the film was, which I often found confusing and distracting, which resulted in my not caring that much about the main character's plight and struggle for survival. But, most shocking of all to me, Franco's performance, which has been praised to high-heaven, didn't get me swept up in the story at all... and with that, I'm sure that I'm going to get some flack and told that I don't have a heart or a soul or what have you. Trust me, I'm not going to sit here and say it's a bad movie, because it's not. It's very well-made and stunning on a technical and visual level but, story-wise, every time I've watched it, I've been left with a feeling that I can only describe as, "Whatever," which I wish was not the case.

Aron Ralston's biggest passion is the outdoors and, on a Friday night in April of 2003, he heads out to a campsite near Utah's Canyonlands National Park to prepare for a lot of biking, hiking, and mountaineering the next day. After biking for nearly 20 miles, Aron heads out on foot, soon coming across hikers Kristi and Megan, who believe that they're off-track from where they plan to go and Aron points them in the right direction, leading them to an underground pool along the way. The three spend some time swimming and dropping down into the pool repeatedly before parting ways, with the two of them inviting him to a party the following night. Aron makes his way to Blue John Canyon and attempts to climb down into a small slot canyon, only to slip and fall to the bottom, knocking loose a large boulder that smashes and pins his right hand against the canyon wall, leaving him stuck. Unable to pry the rock off, Aron soon realizes that he's completely alone and isolated, with very little food and water, and, worst of all, he told no one where he was going. As the days pass, he continues to try to free himself, with no luck, and begins recording a video diary to try to keep his morale up, telling himself not to lose it. However, as his condition and exposure to the elements worsen and his food and water run low, he begins to both hallucinate and remember notable moments in his life, both good and bad, ultimately coming to the conclusion that his arrogance and disregard towards the people in his life, including an old girlfriend and his family, led him to where he is now. Now, it's just a question of whether Aron will simply accept his impending death or find a new will to survive.

Danny Boyle is a director whose work I'm not that up on. I know of a lot of his movies, like Shallow Grave, Trainspotting, The Beach, and especially Slumdog Millionaire due to all of the hype and accolades it got around the time of its release (although, nowadays it seems like one of those movies that's been forgotten), but the only other ones that I've seen are A Life Less Ordinary and 28 Days Later. I actually saw the former on the ride back from a retreat in my junior year of high school and, from what I remember as I've seen it briefly on cable since then, I thought it was interesting, albeit not something I'd watch all the time (funnily enough, it's considered one of Boyle's few misfires). As for 28 Days Later, I didn't really care for it the first time I saw it but, upon subsequent viewings, I've grown to think it's a pretty fair horror movie. I wouldn't put it in my top favorites list or anything but I think it's okay. Looking at his filmography, it's obvious that he's one of those filmmakers who really likes to experiment with the visual flair of a movie, especially in the effects and editing, and there are directors who do that who I'm personally quite fond of. However, from what I've seen of Boyle's work, while I do find the stuff he does interesting, it doesn't inspire me to seek out his other films and it comes across to me as kind of artsy for the sake of it (as we'll get into, one of my problems with this film is that I think he really went overboard with it, which I don't think was needed for this story). It also doesn't help that the subject matter of his movies is often stuff I don't care about but that's beside the point. I definitely don't mean any personal disrespect for the guy, as I love the passion and zeal for his work that he displays when he's directing in behind-the-scenes footage (he's like Martin Scorsese in how he really gets into what his actors are doing), but his work and style doesn't really excite me.

Obviously in a movie like this, the lead role is what's most important, as he or she is literally the one who holds the entire weight of the story on their shoulders (or their hand, in this case), and I'd be lying if I said James Franco's performance as Aron Ralston sucked because it definitely doesn't. It had to have been a very taxing role not only physically but acting-wise as well, because he has quite an arc to play here. We see him start as a reckless, perhaps even a bit arrogant, but charismatic free-spirit who loves the outdoors, so much so that he neglects a message left on his answering machine by his sister in order to get going to Canyonlands National Park, and looks most comfortable when he's biking and hiking across the desert and canyons. Even a fairly nasty crash on his bike early on doesn't dampen his spirit, and when he comes across two young women who are lost, he not only good-naturedly points them in the right direction but shows them an underground pool where they can have and cool off for a bit. Despite the bond the three of them seem to form, it's obvious even at this early stage that Aron probably wouldn't have shown up at the party they invited him to because of how carefree and independent-minded he is, whooping excitedly as he heads on down his own path after they go their separate ways. However, when things take a dramatic turn after that boulder traps him at the bottom of the slot canyon, you see the change in Aron's attitude immediately. Naturally, he starts out in a panic, trying desperately to free himself, and when that doesn't work, he attempts to call for help, only to realize that there's no one within miles. He's completely alone. Once that's dawned on him, he calmly empties his backpack out to see what he's got in there that could help, wisely rationing his water and whatever food he has, and attempting to chip away the rock with his pocketknife in order to get enough room to free his hand. As time passes, he begins making a video diary with his camera, both to keep his morale up as well as to leave something behind for his loved ones in case he doesn't make it. Trying to keep his cool, reminding himself not to lose it when he becomes frantic at one point when he thinks there's somebody up there, he makes other attempts to free himself with a makeshift pulley and again tries to chip away at the rock, only to theorize that he's actually causing it to settle more, while continuing to ration his supplies.

As his situation becomes more and more dire, Aron's morale slowly but surely begins to fade, and as his physical condition worsens from the weight of the rock and ongoing exposure to the elements, he begins to have a number of strange dreams and hallucinations, which are intertwined with a process of deep introspection he begins to go through. He thinks back on various moments in his life and realizes the mistakes he's made, mainly how he's neglected his family and friends, determined to do everything on his own because of his ego and selfishness, and how it cost him his relationship with Rana, a young woman who seemed to truly love him. In his memory, she tells him that he's going to end up alone... and she was exactly right. This leads Aron to come to the conclusion that everything he's ever done, all of the bad choices he's made, have led him to this point, saying, "I chose this." Resigned to this revelation, he basically gives up and waits to die, apologizing to those who he'll never see or hear from again thanks to his reckless selfishness. But then, in his fragile mental state and physical condition, he sees a hallucination of himself playing with a little boy... the son he'll have if he manages to free himself. This gives him the incentive to keep going, create a tourniquet around his right arm, and use his pocketknife to sever everything else that's been rendered useless by days without circulation. Finally free, he's able to make his way out into the desert, where he comes across a family of hikers who alert the authorities to what's happened, leading to Aron being airlifted to the hospital.

After all of that, you're no doubt going to say, "I thought you said you ended up not caring about the main character's plight and that Franco's performance didn't do anything for you." Well, it's weird. When I think about it in retrospect, like right now, I can really look into and appreciate all these nuances in his performance and characterization but, when actually watching the movie, even though I can see them there as well, they don't do much for me. I think a big reason for that is, again, how off-putting I find Danny Boyle's overly-done direction and editing to be (in other words, it's so "in your face" that it distracts me from enjoying the real meat of the film) but another reason is Franco himself. You ever have one of those actors who, no matter how truly good some of their individual performances are, you just can't get into them? That's how it is with Franco for me (Tom Cruise is another example, in case you're wondering). I don't mind him as Harry Osborn in Sam Raimi's Spider-Man movies, mind you, but he's never been an actor who I find to be that appealing and someone I want to watch. He has charisma, yes, especially at the beginning of the movie and when he meets the girls, but something about him has always felt... off to me. Maybe it's that cheesy, stoner-like smile he often has or the fact that he is apparently a bit of an oddball (like I'm one to talk) but, whatever it is, as much as I can appreciate his really dramatic moments, character insight, and the sense of desperation he gives off when things quickly go south in the film, it's not enough for me to really root for him to make it. I don't hope that he dies, mind you, but I'm mainly just sitting there, watching him emote without much emotional investment. I'm probably not making any sense and sound very contradictory but, in the end, Franco is both a big strength for the film and a weakness for my personal enjoyment of it. I will say, though, I think he was a better choice for the role than Cillian Murphy, who Boyle originally wanted. I like that guy as an actor but he's so unintentionally creepy and menacing that I think it would have been far more detrimental for the movie if he'd been Aron Ralston.

This is such a one-man show for James Franco that all of the other characters are pretty much superfluous, save for how Aron feels about them and how their significance in his life impacts his state-of-mind. Really, they're only worth mentioning in passing. The two who get the most screentime outside of Aron are Kristi (Kate Mara) and Megan (Amber Tamblyn), who Aron comes across in the desert before his trek goes south but they really only serve to show how free-spirited and good-natured Aron is when he points them in the right direction and has some fun with them before heading on his merry way, probably not giving them a second thought until he gets stuck. One of them, however, does seem to have an interest in him... or maybe they both did. It was kind of hard to tell since their personalities aren't developed that much. Really, there are only two other characters who have a major impact on the story: Rana (Clemence Poesy), Aron's former girlfriend, who seemed to have genuine affection for him but was ultimately driven away by his distant, isolating attitude, warning him that he was going to end up alone someday, and the vision of his future son (P.J. Hull), which is what motivates him to do whatever it takes to survive. After them, you have his sister, Sonja (Lizzy Caplan in the present and Bailee Michele Morgan in the flashback where she's ten), his mother (Kate Burton), and his father (Treat Williams), all of whom he's been neglecting and ignoring and recent years, an act he comes to seriously regret when it begins to look like he's not going to make it. The most prominent appearance in the film, though, is of the real Aron Ralston, his wife, Jessica, and their infant son, who the fictional Aron sees a vision of at the very end after surfacing from a swimming pool. I always thought that was an interesting and clever touch, especially since it goes along with the caption that informs the viewer that Aron's vision of his future son ended up coming true (those are also the real man's friends and family standing around the couch beforehand).

By far, one of the biggest strengths of 127 Hours is in its look. This is a very gorgeous-looking movie, with excellent cinematography by Enrique Chediak and Anthony Dod Mantle, and it really comes to life in high-definition. Like I said at the beginning, one of the reasons why I wanted to check the film out was the setting. Besides being in that hot-weather frame of mind at the time, I've always liked the desert as a cinematic environment period and I think the filmmakers did a really good job in making it come to life here. The film's opening is full of breathtaking beauty shots of the Utah landscape, with its long stretches of vast desert and rocky mountains and canyons in the distance, which prove to be just as lovely when we see them up close as they are in the distance. We also get to see how incredible the place looks at different points during the day, with one of my favorite moments in the film being when Aron thinks back to when he was a little kid and his father took him out to a cliff so they could watch the sunrise illuminate the landscape. That no doubt had to be the start of his love of the outdoors and you can't really blame him, as it's a beautiful sight, like something you'd see in an issue of National Geographic. Another moment that I like is when, after his first night of being Aron, sees the sun gradually illuminate the slot canyon, starting at the end across from him and then proceeding to come right towards him. I think my favorite location altogether, though, is the underground pool that Aron leads Kristi and Megan to. I'm sure that was actually a set, especially since the real Aron Ralston says that this part of the story is fictional, but it's lit so well and looks so beautiful, with the water being pure blue, that I don't really care. It also doesn't hurt that I love hidden spots like that anyway, as I feel that they give a kind of mystery and wonder to everyday life.

You really have to admire any filmmaker who takes up the challenge of setting the majority of their movie inside one small, claustrophobic setting because it must be really challenging to keep it from becoming boring since the viewer is going to be looking at the same thing for a very long time and also because it's undoubtedly very challenging and taxing for the actor, as it was for James Franco here, who found the filming to be very exhausting and even physically painful. I think Danny Boyle rose to the challenge quite well and managed to successfully pull it off, which is what I meant when I said I can't fault the film's technical achievements (for the most part, anyway) as it's very well-made. You're basically stuck in this cramped, uncomfortable little quarry with Aron Ralston, with very few angles aside from the camera often being right up in his face, especially when he's recording his video diaries, but Boyle's direction, which lets you see how the place looks at different times of day (midday, afternoon, night, and even during a rainstorm that floods the place), and Franco's performance do manage to keep it from becoming monotonous and allow you to focus on the drama at hand... that is, until Boyle's overzealous visual style gets in the way yet again.

That's not a mistake on my part. That's how this moment

looks in the film.

Alright, let's stop beating around the bush and get into that aspect of the movie. There are a number of movies that are very stylized that I do enjoy (I like Ang Lee's Hulk, for crying out loud) and I'm well aware that this is one of Danny Boyle's trademarks. It's something you come expect in his films and, let's face it, he's pretty good at it. For a guy who was almost 40 when he broke into the feature world, he's managed to sustain an energy in his movies that would make you think there was a much younger man behind them. But, I feel there are instances where that aesthetic fits and when it doesn't. A Life Less Ordinary? Sure, because the story itself is weird and over-the-top. 28 Days Later? Oh, yes, because the apocalyptic setting and the basic premise of the movie lend itself to the unique look Boyle gave it. 127 Hours, however, I don't think needed to be so overdone as it is. Boyle, you're telling an intimate, human story that also happens to be based on something that happened to a real person. Ease up on the crazy visuals, because it honestly distracts me from it and is the main reason why I can't say I absolutely love this film. It starts up right from the beginning, with a bunch of split-screens of people cheering at a sporting event (I'm sure it ties into the flashback Aron later has about Rana leaving him at such a place; Aron's feeling that the rock was waiting for him ever since it was part of a meteorite is the same way because you see what looks like the meteorite travel across the screens later during this opening), hands clapping, what looks like Middle-Eastern people bowing in prayer, people swimming, running a marathon, enjoying a day at the beach, and such, when the middle split-screen shows Aron getting ready to head out to the park and it gradually takes up the whole screen. I get that the intent is to show that he's an adrenaline junkie like all of these other people but, regardless, that threw me the first time I saw it and it goes on from there, as Boyle shows us the inside of Aron's water-filled canteen as he screws the lid on (he later shows us the water going through the rubber drinking pipe in his backpack, bubbles inside a bottle of orange Gatorade, sweat running off of said bottle, and the last of the water in the canteen going into his mouth), more split-screens with different angles of his dripping kitchen faucet, and then shots of a sped-up freeway intermingled with screens of Aron driving out to the park and random shots of fast food restaurant signs, people biking on the opposite side of the room from him, and so on..

Once he gets stuck and he begins to both dream and hallucinate, the film's visuals become all the more confusing. You see a random shot of somebody climbing atop one of the large stones in the canyon and asking someone else, "How the fuck did this get here?" I'm guessing it's supposed to be a memory of him and a friend taking a hike there which, fine, whatever. It was still random but at least it didn't take me long to realize what it probably was. However, later on you get a sudden cut to a van full of naked people out in the middle of a snowstorm. Huh?! Later, it's made clear that this was some bizarre thing he took part in (maybe it was the Polar Bear Club) and was how he first me Rana but, when I first saw it, I thought I accidentally sat on my Blu-Ray Player remote and skipped ahead a chapter! And near the end, when he's given up hope and is basically just waiting to die, there's a moment where he looks up and sees somebody looking down at him who I think is meant to be Theodore Roosevelt. I could be wrong on that and it's something I'm not getting but I think that's who it's meant to be. Regardless, why is he thinking about Theodore Roosevelt in his dying moments? I understand that, by this point, his brain is not functioning properly at all but, still, why Roosevelt? It's another random visual that takes me out of the drama that I should be caught up in. But the one I can't get over is a motif that, at first, made sense. Kristi and Megan tell Aron that the place holding the party they invite him to can be recognized by a big, inflatable Scooby-Doo nearby and, during his second night being stuck, he dreams about going to said party and we not only see the balloon but also hear the Scooby-Doo theme song. Odd but at least it makes sense... and then, later on when Aron has really gone off the deep end and is hallucinating almost constantly, he thinks that there's something behind him in the quarry. He cranes his neck around and uses the flash off his camera to illuminate whatever it is, revealing that Scooby-Doo balloon for a brief second, accompanied by his trademark laugh. Again, what the hell?! I know he was thinking about Scooby-Doo before but this happens long after that, so why would that come up in his head? I can't believe Danny Boyle saw that and thought it was acceptable because I just find it to be stupid and weird for the sake of weird.

In addition, there are visuals in the film that I find to be either not necessary or make me roll my eyes and go, "Really?" For instance, after Aron tries to unsuccessfully to hoist the rock off with a makeshift pulley, he mentions in his video diary what he needs for it to work, adding, "Oh, and, uh, eight burly men to do all the hauling," during which we see the shadows of eight big guys on the desert landscape. Okay, why was the necessary? At one point, Aron has a dream about a massive thunderstorm hitting the desert and flooding the slot canyon, with the buoyancy allowing him to free himself and we see him escape, only to end up at Rana's house and for her to leave him outside in the rain. I get that the last part was meant to emphasize how much he's isolated himself and how that's one thing he'll never have back even if he is freed but the sequence with the storm, the canyon filling up, and Aron getting free and heading back goes on for a while and is a bit excessive for something that turns out to be a dream, even if I know that it has to be something that's been on his mind for a while, given the situation. But the one that really got me is when Aron, before he gets the will to live and go on, sees a vision of his parents sitting on a couch in the quarry with him, followed up by all of his friends being there with them as well. As I've said many times by now, I get the idea behind it, that he's thinking about all the people he'll never see, but I still have to ask if it was necessary to visualize it in such an artsy way, with the couch and everything. Maybe I'm nitpicky and cynical but that kind of imagery comes across as pretentious to me and I hate it when it's thrown into a movie for seemingly no other reason.

All of this criticism aside, though, there are moments where the stylization doesn't help the story. For me, the absolute best example is when Aron first becomes trapped and, as he futilely yells for Kristi and Megan, the camera, which is directly above him, looking down, pulls back and back and back until we're now in an aerial shot of the canyon and the very vast wilderness surrounding it. The addition of Aron's screams growing more and more faint as the camera pulls back until we can't hear him anymore hammers home his situation of being completely alone and isolated perfectly. Another moment that I like is when, on his third day stuck there, Aron goes through a bit where he imitates a talk show host and interviews himself about his situation. It's really amazing how this bit evolves. It starts off completely funny and silly, with Aron acting all smarmy as the "host" and dopey and shallow as "himself," and then, right at the end, becomes dead serious. Some of the more memorable exchanges of dialogue are, "Hey, Mom. I'm really sorry I didn't answer the phone the other night. If I had, I would have told you where I was going, and then... well, I probably wouldn't be here right now." "That's for sure! But like I always say, your supreme selfishness is our gain... Oh, wait. Hold on. We've got a question coming in from another Aron in Loser Canyon, Utah! Aron asks..." "Am I right in thinking that even if Brion from work notifies the police, they'll put a 24-hour hold on it before they file a Missing Persons report? Which means you won't become officially missing until midday Wednesday, at the earliest?" "Yeah. You're right on the money there, Aron. Which means, I'll probably be dead by then." "Aron from Loser Canyon, Utah. How do you know so much?" "Well, I'll tell you how I know so much. I volunteer for the rescue service. You see, I'm something of a... well, a big, fucking, hard hero. And I can do everything on my own, you see?" "I do see! Now, is it true that despite, or maybe because, you're a big fucking hard hero, you didn't tell anyone where you were going?" He then answers, "Yeah. That's absolutely correct," and proceeds to say, "Oops," several times, growing quieter and quieter as it truly sinks in how screwed he apparently is. It's probably the best scene in the entire movie, as I feel the way the tone shifts is both skillfully played by Franco and well-directed and edited by Boyle and company. At first, I thought the sound of the "audience" applauding and clapping, as well as Brion's face appearing onscreen as if he's on a Skype call, was a bit much but now, I don't mind it, as it adds to the impact when the scene ends with Aron fully realizing what kind of trouble he's in. I also don't mind the effects of Aron taking pictures of himself and later with the girls and the image flicking off-camera afterward, because I think it fits with what's going on, as does when the image on the camera begins to break up (I only put a shot of that and one with his son in that paragraph where I complained about the visuals because I couldn't find any of what was actually talking about) and the same goes for the shot inside his arm when he first contemplates cutting it off and you see the knife-blade hit the bone and especially the vision of his son, as it's what drives him to not give up and eventually free himself.

No matter what my opinion of the movie as a whole is, I can't deny that the makeup effects showing the injury to Aron's arm are excruciatingly realistic and uncomfortable to look. It was already cringe-inducing when the boulder first landed on his arm and you saw the blood on the side of the canyon-wall and later saw that his thumb was turning a nasty purple color from the lack of circulation but the worst part by far is when he finally decides enough is enough and cuts it off. He first bends it until it breaks in a couple of spots (the brief inside shot of the bone bending makes my skin crawl) with a very loud snap each time and then, he proceeds to cut deeply into the flesh, covering his hand, and his face when he wipes it with blood. He stops momentarily to make himself a makeshift tourniquet and tightens it before continuing to cut and cut, quietly telling himself not to mess it up. It is absolutely nasty and sickening to watch (the makeup effects are by the legendary Tony Gardner) and to emphasize the agonizing pain he feels when he hits the nerve, which you see in gratuitous detail, Boyle puts in a high-pitched, shrill shrieking sound that also gets under my skin. When he finally sucks it up and cuts the nerve, going through the pain until it snaps, you see a silent montage of him screaming, which is just as powerful as if we could actually hear him. After that, he pulls and pulls and cuts some more, spurned on by another vision of his future son, until it finally comes loose and is free, albeit at a massive, painful price.

The music score by A.R. Rahman is pretty stark and sparing for the most part, with no real discernible themes or leitmotifs, which makes sense given that this is a small, intimate human story. No need for anything really big. The most memorable parts of the score are these low-key, guitar pieces that play like when Aron tries to move the rock when he first gets stuck and when he's cutting through his arm, as well as sort of drum bit for when he's getting his stuff out after getting trapped and nice, ethereal music for both his happy and sad memories. Actually, the most memorable piece of the score itself is this big, grand theme that plays when he's finally freed himself and eventually comes across the family who arrange for his rescue. That plays a little too long for me, though, but I like the more subtle, calm bit it segues into the section before the ending credits. The film truly goes for musical inspiration in the songs it plays on its soundtrack, with the opening being set to Never Hear Surf Music Again by Free Blood, another part that really threw me off when I first saw it but, after watching the movie a couple of more times, I've grown to like the unusual beat and the energy that it has. Bill Withers' Lovely Day plays when Aron tries to hoist the rock up with a makeshift pulley and fails, with the upbeat, happy tune making for an interesting contrast with what it's accompanying. Plastic Bertrand's Ca Plane Pour Moi plays during that random flashback with the naked people in the car in the middle of a snowstorm and since it's a random-sounding song itself, it fits with that scene in how much it threw me. Unfortunately, I have to confess that I'm not a big fan of If I Rise, which is performed by Rahman himself, along with Dido. I know it's supposed to be the musical heart and soul of the movie, as it plays when Aron has the meaningful vision of his future son, but I just don't like the way it sounds and I can understand most of the lyrics because of how high-pitched the singing is.

I really hope that this review hasn't come across like a contradictory, nonsensical Noah Antwiler, aka Spoony, type of review but if so, I can't help it; 127 Hours is a movie I have such mixed feelings about. On the one hand, I can definitely praise its technical and visual achievements, with beautiful cinematography, great used of a confined, claustrophobic main setting, well-done and unusual editing, and uncomfortably realistic makeup effects, as well as a decent score and soundtrack and a genuinely good performance by James Franco. But, all that said, since Franco is not one of those actors I'm really into, I ultimately don't find myself caring much about his character's plight, no matter how good he is (he was nominated for an Academy Award, so what do I know?), and Danny Boyle's overly stylized conception of the film, while well-done and sometimes beneficial, ultimately takes me out of the story more often than not. That's really my main issue with the film: I wish it were done in a more straightforward manner rather being so artsy that it feels like it's trying to call attention to itself. I'm well aware I'm in the minority on this, though, and that's okay. If you're one of the many who like it, great. Don't let anyone ever take that away from you. But it's one of those movies that just doesn't do it for me.