12.17.2010

FILM REVIEW: 127 Hours

Director: Danny Boyle    Release Date: Nov. 5,2010        Rating: 82%                                                            
Review by: Aaron Schrank
It’s awfully hard to sustain a gripping narrative in a film depicting one man stuck in isolation. Without the conveniences of traditional dialogue and character interaction, filmmakers depend on imaginative cinematic techniques to battle plot stagnation. Sean Penn’s “Into the Wild” relied heavily on flashbacks to construct the story of real-life vagabond Chris McCandless. 2009’s “Moon” gave its astronaut a Kubrickian robot companion. “Cast Away” kept Tom Hanks (and audiences) entertained with a personified volleyball.  Director Danny Boyle’s “127 Hours” calls for even more frills, as it chronicles the true story of hiker Aron Ralston who, for five days, is not only secluded, but immobile—his right arm wedged between a collapsed boulder and a canyon wall.

 Aware of his plot’s limitations, Boyle (“Trainspotting”, “Slumdog Millionaire”) makes every attempt to keep things interesting, employing hallucination montages, flashbacks, kinetic camerawork, a potent musical score and a number of plot devices, including the camcorder Ralston uses to document his dilemma. These elements, despite their technical excellence, tend to distract from, rather than emphasize, the raw emotional drama that Ralston’s story boasts. Ultimately, the “127 Hours” storyline is appropriately droning and unexpectedly detached, with a few moments of genuine intensity that make it worth watching.

While James Franco delivers a soulful performance as Ralston, the screenplay, written by Boyle and Simon Beaufoy, fails to provide enough insight into Ralston’s personality for audiences to understand the character on a deeper level. Instead, Ralston is shown as an everyman. Nondescript flashbacks contribute little to his character. As time passes, Ralston grows more self-reflective and the audience learns that he wishes he talked to his parents on the phone more often or that he may have taken an ex-girlfriend for granted. While the vagueness of  Ralston’s most intimate introspections allows audiences to project their own concerns or regrets onto the character, it is crippling to the on-screen story.

“127 Hours” begins with the carefree Ralston hopping in his car and driving to the Utah desert. The wide-open desert, with its beautifully bright terrain and painted skies, is immediately established as the ideal, poised to provide sharp contrast to Ralston’s canyon prison. He rides his mountain bike for miles, snaps photos and appears completely in his element. Ralston meets a pair of female hikers and, in some of the only scenes in film with any dialogue, leisurely gives them an all-access tour of the environment, showcasing his outdoors expertise. After sending the hikers in the right direction, Ralston stomps off, beginning his traverse of Blue John Canyon. Minutes later, he puts his weight on an unstable boulder. He and the boulder drop into a dark crevasse of the canyon. Then, nearly 15 minutes into the film, the title flashes on the screen: “127 Hours”. The clock begins ticking in the mind of the viewer.

As Ralston fights dehydration, hunger and fatigue, his mind wanders—shown on screen with a series of impressive camera and editing techniques. Ralston’s thoughts are depicted in a film-clip flurry of past experiences, daydreams, and pop-culture vignettes. When he’s thirsty, the camera dexterously zigzag-tracks from his crevasse back to his car, settling on a full bottle of Gatorade in the trunk. A montage of vintage soda commercials flashes on the screen. As Ralston fondly remembers his childhood, a home video-style shot of a young female pianist appears. Back in the shadowy confines of the canyon, Ralston subtly smiles: “Way to go, sis.”

In Ralston’s cramped environment, Boyle employs tight, shaky shots to convey a feeling of claustrophobia and jump cuts to document the protagonist’s deterioration. A stunning reverse zoom from the depths of the crevasse to an overheard view on the entire desert landscape puts things in perspective. Other creative shots attempt to break up some of the tedium of his surroundings, including a camera placed inside Ralston’s water bottle and camcorder shots of Ralston as he records final messages for friends and family. In one camcorder scene, Ralston stages a faux talk-show interview in which he self-deprecatingly reveals that he neglected to tell anyone where he was going prior his trip. A sitcom laugh track adds an element of irony. While Ralston is in isolation, his thoughts and sense of humor keep him company and counter the film’s ability to fully capture the essence of his misery. At one point, beginning to hallucinate, the stranded hiker cries out, “Don’t lose it, Aron!”

Adapted from Ralston’s autobiography, “Between a Rock and a Hard Place”, “127 Hours” is a straightforward illustration of the human will to live, communicated predominantly in the film’s most gruesome scene. Once all hope of a rescue is reasoned away, Ralston is faced with a decision. He must amputate his arm, or die. While the solution is clear to Ralston and the audience, the necessary act is unimaginable. Then, the stunning amputation scene shows the audience just how horrendous such a procedure would be, leaving nothing to the imagination. As viewers squirm in their seats, they realize that their reasoning minds led them to the same conclusion as the man on the screen and that they, under identical circumstances, would take the dreadful action depicted before them. While this scene is causing some filmgoers to faint in theaters, it is certainly the crowning achievement of the film, as it evokes a disturbing truth that will haunt viewers for as long as their memories allow.

As he did in 2008’s celebrated “Slumdog Millionaire”, Boyle examines life through a fatalistic lens in “127 Hours”. In the same way that every seemingly insignificant incident in the “Slumdog” protagonist’s life led to his winning 20 million rupees on an Indian game show, each and every one of Aron Ralston’s missteps has led him here, to this rock. As he deliriously reflects on his past experiences, Ralston remarks, “This rock has been waiting for me for me all my life…and all its life.”

“127 Hours” relies, often too heavily, on musical selections as emotional cues. Indian film composer A.R. Rahman (“Slumdog Millionaire”) provides an original score that is supplemented by tracks from Free Blood, Bill Withers and others. When a violent rainstorm floods the crevasse, a frantic musical arrangement signals an already apparent danger. While an appropriate ear-splitting distortion forcefully indicates that Ralston has struck his nerve during the amputation scene, the music throughout this scene unfairly dictates the audience’s interpretation. Ralston’s final march back into civilization, after severing his limb, should be grand enough on its own, but Sigur Ros’s “Festival” is gratuitously employed to ensure a blockbuster ending. Because of their epic, cinematic quality, Sigur Ros tracks are all-too-often selected in concluding film scenes. In films ranging from “Vanilla Sky” to “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou”, this cheap technique has been exhausted.

With an undeniably appealing true story, a skilled actor in his largest role ever and technically-perfect director, “127 Hours” has all the makings of a masterpiece. Unfortunately, Boyle is unable to overcome the restraints of this one-man show and propel the plot is an approachable way. The result is a decent, sometimes arduous film that owes most of its worth to the provocative clout of a few key scenes. 

12.15.2010

NPR's Best Albums of the Year


NPR "All Songs" Listeners Pick The Best Albums of 2010.

Here's a sampling of the top ten. Check out the full list HERE.


NPR LISTENER PICKS FOR BEST MUSIC OF 2010

Cover for The Suburbs

1. The Suburbs

  • Artist: Arcade Fire
  • Song: Ready To Start
Cover for Brothers

2. Brothers

  • Artist: Black Keys
  • Song: Everlasting Light
Cover for High Violet

3. High Violet

  • Artist: National
  • Song: Bloodbuzz Ohio
Cover for Sigh No More

4. Sigh No More

  • Artist: Mumford & Sons
  • Song: The Cave
Cover for Broken Bells

5. Broken Bells

  • Artist: Broken Bells
  • Song: The High Road
Cover for This Is Happening

6. This Is Happening

  • Artist: LCD Soundsystem
  • Song: All I Want
Cover for Contra

7. Contra

  • Artist: Vampire Weekend
  • Song: Taxi Cab
Cover for The Age of Adz

8. The Age of Adz

  • Artist: Sufjan Stevens
  • Song: Vesuvius
Cover for Teen Dream

9. Teen Dream

  • Artist: Beach House
  • Song: Zebra
Cover for My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

10. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

  • Artist: Kanye West
  • Song: Monster [Explicit]

    12.12.2010

    The Wilderness Downtown

    If you haven't already, check out 
    the interactive music video for 
    The Arcade Fire's "We Used To Wait":


    While it's not necessarily aesthetically breathtaking, it's pretty cool showcase of HTML5.

    If you don't use Google Chrome, I think you'll have to download it.

    12.10.2010

    Casting Presidential Biopics

    When I first heard Daniel Day-Lewis was locked in as Spielberg's Lincoln, it got me thinking. 
    Now, Day-Lewis will make a great Lincoln, just as Day-Lewis makes a great anything. It's never a bad decision to cast him. We've also got Scorsese's The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt, starring DiCaprio as young TR, slated for 2011. I like the work these two have done together, but am not sure how I feel about DiCaprio in this particular role. And then, there's a Reagan biopic in the works (screenwriter Jonas McCord) that has yet to attach itself to a director or cast its leading role, but some voters in a Hollywood Reporter poll are gunning for Zac Efron.


    With the era of presidential biopics upon us, it is important that the right men are selected for the job. Casting title roles in presidential biopics is my civic duty, and I plan to take it seriously. We've got 44 presidents and I want every last one of of them to get their own big-budget feature film in the next few years.


    For your consideration:


    Tim Roth as Andrew Jackson



    Alan Rickman as George Washington



    Albert Finney as Millard Fillmore


    Kevin Spacey as Calvin Coolidge
    Actor Kevin Spacey attends the BAM and the Old Vic announcement for the Bridge Project Benefit at BAM on February 17, 2009 in Brooklyn, New York.  (Photo by Joe Corrigan/Getty Images) *** Local Caption *** Kevin Spacey

    Harry Lennix as Barack Obama

    Philip Seymour Hoffman as James Buchanan


    Get on it, Hollywood. 

    Review: Eastbound & Down

        

     With Steve Carell performing his Michael Scott-swan song on this season of “The Office”, it seems an appropriate time for American television audiences to welcome a new moronic hero into their hearts. There is no better contender than Danny McBride’s uproariously overconfident and painfully pathetic Kenny Powers on the side-splitting HBO series “Eastbound and Down”. The discontented one-time major league pitcher coping with life outside the limelight has entertained premium cable viewers for two seasons and “Eastbound” was recently renewed for a third. McBride and company execute a pitch-perfect amalgamation of the modern comedic tastes seen on the silver screen in the past several years, one-upping them all.  The result is an exceptional brand of comedy described by its creators as “low-brow high art.”

                 
    The fairly simple “Eastbound” plot is saturated with standard B-movie glory. Kenny Powers was once a promising big league pitcher with a 101-mile-an-hour fastball, a reputation as an outrageous showboat, and loads of fame. After squandering his celebrity as a womanizer and drug user, he lost his athletic physique and abilities, moves into the suburban family-home of his older brother, and begins work as a substitute P.E. teacher at his former middle school. In a new and uncomfortable environment, the only thing Kenny Powers hasn’t lost is his attitude of entitlement. This is where “Eastbound and Down” begins. Kenny Powers is hell-bent on reclaiming his rightful place on the mound, and his woebegone stubbornness and flair for melodrama only further the show’s B-movie pastiche.

    “Eastbound” was created by Danny McBride (“Tropic Thunder”, “Pineapple Express”), Jody Hill (director, “Observe and Report”) and Ben Best, all graduates of the film program at University of North Carolina School of the Arts and now frequent collaborators. Will Ferrell and partner Adam McKay, who serve among the show’s executive producers, add to the show’s mainstream appeal and lend their recognizable brand of comedy to the plot and dialogue. Movie-goers were first introduced to the McKay-Ferrell brand of comedy in 2004’s “Anchorman”, McKay’s directorial debut.

     There are striking similarities between the characters and pacing in the McKay-Ferrell films (“Anchorman”, “Talladega Nights”, “Step Brothers”) and those of “Eastbound”. Kenny Powers is a likable but arrogant moron in the same vein as Ron Burgundy or Ricky Bobby, but considerably more vulgar, racist and self-destructive. Surprisingly, the beer-guzzling, coke-snorting has-been who plays his own autobiography-on-tape in the car for encouragement and peddles “You’re fucking out, I’m fucking in.” as a catchphrase seems substantially more authentic than the host of Ferrell characters who have come and gone without emitting more than an aura of manufactured shtick.

    The authenticity in the Kenny Powers persona can be credited primarily to McBride’s somewhat unfamiliar face and acting skill, but is aided by real-life examples of bombastic athletes, like Atlanta Braves relief pitcher John Rocker, who generated immense controversy with racist and homophobic remarks a decade ago. While the Kenny Powers character is not based on Rocker, the show’s creators do cite his career as an inspiration.

                Though he’d prefer it that way, it would be unfair to attribute the success of the show entirely to the Kenny Powers character. The well-cast “Eastbound and Down” boasts a small group of core cast members and a parade of reoccurring guest stars. Steve Little provides a uniquely odd performance as Stevie Janowski, the band teacher turned Powers-disciple who blindly mistakes Kenny’s abuse as affection. Will Ferrell provides an overstated, but funny performance in season one as Ashley Schaeffer, the owner of a car dealership who exploits Kenny’s former fame to sell BMWs. In season two, which documents Kenny’s foray into Mexican baseball, Don Johnson aptly plays Kenny’s long-lost father, hiding out in Mexico. Similarly, Matthew McConaughey cameos as a homosexual minor league scout who offers Kenny a spot at training camp. 

                Instead of cramming 25 episodes into a season and dragging out plot points, like most modern American television comedies, the first two seasons of “Eastbound and Down” consist of only 13 episodes, emulating the six-episode series tradition of British sitcoms. The first six-episode season documents Kenny’s adjustment to life in his hometown, his quest to win back his high school sweetheart and his ill-fated attempts at reclaiming stardom. Then, when you thought Kenny Powers couldn’t sink any lower, season two opens with Kenny’s debut as a reprobate cockfighter living in a Mexican barrio, having fled the reality of his inadequacies. With Mexico as his playground, Kenny Powers has plenty of chances to show off his xenophobia and indulge his vices.   

    Despite its absurdity, the Kenny Powers character has a remarkable ability to evoke empathy from viewers. After watching a few episodes, viewers will feel they know Kenny and have expectations as to how he’ll behave. It’s quickly realized that in the misguided reality of Kenny Powers, he is doing the best he can and is deserving of support, even in his most simple-minded and self-indulgent pursuits. Powers casually tosses empty road beers out of his car window, uses drugs and discusses sex acts in the presence of schoolchildren, shamelessly derides cultures other than his own, and is legitimately unaware of any of his wrongdoings.

    In the final words of his spoken word autobiography, Powers says, “If there's one thing I've learned through all my adventures and conquests, it's that some people are just wired for success. I had no choice when it came to being great. I just am great. I'm not trying to sound cocky or full of myself, but Kenny Powers has a sneaking suspicion that no matter what comes his way he will always be great. Because that's just the way shit works sometimes.” He really isn’t trying to sound cocky or full of himself. That’s just Kenny Powers.