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The Tufts Daily
Where you read it first | Sunday, April 28, 2024

Oscar-winning director Danny Boyle discusses the production of '127 Hours'

Danny Boyle is the acclaimed director of such films as "Trainspotting" (1996), "28 Days Later…" (2002) and "Slumdog Millionaire" (2008), for which he won the Academy Award for Best Director. The Daily spoke with Boyle as part of a roundtable interview to discuss his latest film, "127 Hours."

The film, which stars James Franco, tells the story of Aron Ralston, the mountaineer who in 2003 was forced to amputate part of his own arm after getting trapped under a boulder while hiking alone. Boyle discusses his directorial approach to the source material, James Franco and his body of work, among other things.

Question: If you have a character stuck in one place, you wouldn't necessarily think one could make such an epic film. When did you first hear about Aron's story, and at what point did it strike you as being something theatrical? 

Danny Boyle: I mean, I heard about it in 2003 when it actually happened. It was one of those stories that snags. I read his book in 2006 and I tried to make the film then. [Aron] wanted to make a documentary or kind of drama-doc, whereas I wanted to make it a real experience, real-time experience thing that you don't get released from until he does the deed.

I think it's because when you go to the cinema, you're in a black box. It's not like television. I mean, it's voluntary, obviously. You can get up and walk out. But if you're enjoying it and you're connected to it ... and in fact, you've paid money to go in that black box as well, so you're unlikely to leave it, unless it's s---. We pay 12 bucks or whatever you pay to get in and you're sort of committed to seeing it, to seeing it through. I thought that if you can get that ride, the experience of living in that confined space with him will be something that the audience can share. So I loved that idea about it. I said [to the studio:] The only way you will ever be able to tolerate watching this man cut his arm off and doing it properly — i.e., it takes him 40 minutes — is if you are invested in it, you want him to do it and you want to help him, in a way. And you want him to get out of there because you want to get out of the black box as well. I think that's the essence of the story — its connection with us.

Q: Do you think that's an accomplishment of the scene? Were you trying to make people uncomfortable or removed? Did you hear about people walking out?

DB: There's not many. Only a handful. I understand, obviously it's very intense, but for most people, it's an experience that they go through, just like he went through. It's not like, "Oh great, here it comes." It's not like a horror movie, like, "Right, let's see his head cut off," it's like, "Okay, let's do it. It's tough, but you do it."

Q: Speaking of choosing that one actor, how did you end up with James Franco?

DB: I was very interested in him to begin with. I know he's not a lookalike, which is one way you can go. Unusually for lead actors, his work has real variety. I thought that would be important because there's no villain coming into it, there's no comic character coming into it. He has to do all of that himself. And that literally ended up with him playing multiple characters as the talk show host. Because the film is static, the danger is that the film becomes inert. And the only way it doesn't become inert is if he can create contrast so you feel movement. You can help with rhythm or music, but it's him that's doing it mostly.

Q: How do you feel your body of work has changed, from your more bleak films like "Trainspotting" to your more vibrant films like "Slumdog?"

DB: I think they have the same spirit in them, but it's more muted because of the circumstances. That's all, really. You do different stories at different times and find different things in it. When you've made a few films, people start using expressions like "your body of work," and you don't really think like that when you're on the inside of that. I think it's deadly, in fact, to think, "Right, for the next bit … my body of work will be this..." You kind of just go for a story that fascinates you and you can't resist it. So that's what I do.

Q: Did Aron Ralston collaborate with you on the script or the set?

DB: He was always around to teach us, tell us stuff we weren't clear about. But I also said to him, I was very clear about this, that it was going to be our version of his story and that what I didn't want was him being there the whole time overshadowing James, saying like, "Oh, no, actually I did this. I tied the other shoelace." I said we will be faithful and truthful and, by the time it's finished, it will feel emotionally truthful to what you went through. But I do want James to go through it as well. The circumstances will be exactly the same to what you went through, but I want James to go through it, rather than James copying you going through it. 

Q: After meeting Aron, reading his book and working to put the movie together, do you feel like the premonition was influenced spiritually or did you want to include that somehow? 

DB: I don't know whether it comes across or not, but my feeling about it is that a lot of people say this story is a story of an extraordinary individualist courage and self-sufficiency, but I don't think that's true at all, and I never did. Right when I first read the book, I thought that he's incredibly individualist when he goes in there, he's incredibly self-sufficient, he runs ultra-marathons in the desert, he doesn't need anybody, he goes on his own, he turns himself against the clock, he likes beating everybody else. He's that typical example of the complete heroic individual, and nature stops him and says to him, "Okay, unique individual, get out of that." And he can't. His power, all that strength he's got — he's 27, he doesn't smoke, he doesn't really drink, he's at the absolute pinnacle. ... Nothing. He can't do anything.

And it's only when he learns that he belongs in a chain, which is parenthood if you like, and when he learns he's been careless with people's affection for him. He doesn't return phone calls. That girl who loved him, he treats her not cruelly, but casually, and he realizes that there's something much bigger than supreme individualism. There's a commonality that bonds us all together, which is amazing, and it's much more powerful than in spirituality, and that's something I deeply believe. I tried to convey that in the film, how he literally swims back to people at the end.