If Danny Boyle first grabbed my attention with the haunting The Beach, then he certainly grabbed me by the back of the neck with 28 Days Later. Both films displayed a common theme: even in the most serene and naturalistic of settings horror can creep in. Boyle, in the midst of a creative stride after the well received Slumdog Millionaire, continues his fascination then with the dangers of the natural world with 127 Hours, the fictionalized retelling of Aaron Ralston’s horrifying ordeal which resulted in a self-imposed amputation.

127 Hours follows Ralston, played with vigor by current media darling James Franco, as he takes on the rocky area of Moab, Utah. The story, well known to the public due to extensive media coverage surrounding the time when the incident occurred, is similar to Titanic in that we know how the thing ends. 127 Hours then, is not really a story of how a man cut off his own arm to survive, but more of a self-exploration film, one that tests human will against the unpredictable force that nature wields (again, a common theme Boyle likes to explore). Unlike The Beach, though, Boyle allows a more whimsical approach to the topic, leaving it open to interpretation much in the same way Ralston had to interpret his experience.

The diabolical undertow of nature is an interesting topic that filmmakers like to explore. Of course, in The Beach, Boyle expounded the notion that ecstasy is in the eye of the beholder; one man’s paradise is another man’s hell. Lars von Trier, a filmmaker of perpetual gloom, tackled the subject most recently with Antichrist; a scathing filmic essay on the horrors of the natural world that demonized it and proclaimed that hell is all around us. It’s refreshing then that Boyle, using source material that certainly on the surface doesn’t convince you to go hiking anytime soon, doesn’t try to turn this tale into a horror film. In fact, despite the intensely graphic amputation scene (of which I am sure you have heard a lot about by now) this film is the opposite of horror; this piece is about self-realization, a school of hard knocks if you will in which no books are needed. This is inner discovery at its most intense level and we are front row for perhaps cinema’s most jarring lecture.

The film itself is most certainly Boyle; he continues to make gorgeous movies, this one awash in lots of blues and oranges, the rocky terrain jutting out of the ground looks amazing juxtaposed against the blazing blue skies. Boyle likes to play with frame rates and in this pic he does the same, adding music video like qualities with some double speed shots while sprinkling in some spilt screen and triple split screen edits. The film is full of frenetic

energy, buzzing and popping along quickly in the beginning; this might be the most exciting a filmmaker has portrayed the act of hiking. Boyle also explores a bit his fascination with technology, something he tinged upon with Millionaire and 28 Days; camera graphics and time codes pop up on screen from time to time creating a comparative naturalism vs. technology effect that works well and adds to the kinematic quality of the piece.

When Ralston eventually falls into the cavern that becomes his albatross, Boyle really lets loose with his camera. Never has such a small space seemed so huge (Buried does a fine job with a perceived, limited space as well). Danny covers just about every angle within the cavern and really does a nice job of inviting us into the nightmare that is Ralston’s ordeal by using high and low angle shots as well as using Ralston’s hard camera, mini-cam as a journalistic style view into Aron’s mindset throughout his experience.

While Franco does well in the beginning acts of the film, it’s the final act in which he really shines. His facial expressions directed towards the audience (the final act is focused much on just Franco’s handsome mug) convey his journey from self-absorbed mountain man to humbled hiker without having to have the star verbally document the process. As for the now famed amputation scene… it’s really not that bad, certainly not so graphic that it would induce vomitus and unconsciousness. It is disturbing, but it is the ingenious way Boyle uses sound and imagery to portray the incident that makes this scene memorable. In fact, the soundtrack to the scene is so horrifying it’s what I remember most (Carpenter long ago presented the case for the power of sound in horror scenes with Halloween).

The Blu-ray extras will give you a nice commentary track with one of the best filmmakers in the world today, a behind-the-scenes featurette, some deleted scenes, and an interesting documentary style piece portraying the real search and rescue of Aron Ralston. Not extremely meaty stuff here, but the commentary track is worth the price of admission alone because, I mean, really, it’s Danny frickin’ Boyle.

127 Hours is not your average Boyle public darling, nor does it have terrific, dramatic sequences like his previous efforts. This is an introspective effort built on a singular performance backed by a clay soaked backdrop of beauty, chaos, and finally fulfillment. It’s a beautiful film, one that allows you to sink into your seat and reflect on your own life, a cinematic version of a memory muse that envelops you like a midday Santé Fe sun and yet cools you like a desert night.