Danny Boyle's Best Films

With Danny Boyle's Trance unfortunately still lumbering in my brain, I'd like to turn things more positive.  Here's his filmography ranked by me:

1. Trainspotting (1996)
2. 28 Days Later (2003)
3. 127 Hours (2010)
4. Millions (2005)
5. Shallow Grave (1994)
6. Sunshine (2007)
7. Slumdog Millionaire (2008)
8. A Life Less Ordinary (1997)
9. Trance (2013)
10. The Beach (2000)

What's your favorite Danny Boyle film?

Trance

If you put Inception, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Vanilla Sky and the sexuality-as-sin oeuvre of Adrien Lyne and mixed them with a mild hallucinogen, it might look a bit like Trance, a derivative and frustrating mind-bender from Danny Boyle.  The problem with the picture is that as it unravels and unleashes twist upon twist, it becomes achingly clear that there's not much to the mystery whatsoever.  There's certainly nothing wrong with a stylish little yarn that craves nothing more than to wrap your mind in little knots, but the entire film is nothing more than a McGuffin, an endless distraction to the fanciful tricks of a director wanting to simply show off.  The overdone mechanics feel edited to the point of exhaustion, but devoid of the simple pleasures of entertainment.  It's slightly strange coming from the nervy and fascinating stylishness that Mr. Boyle can typically deliver even the slightest of genre trifles-- before the filmmaker leaned to more prestige fare like Slumdog Millionaire and 127 Hours, he wrought a delightfully seedy elegance to sleek B-thrillers like Shallow Grave and 28 Days Later.  Trance feels like a step back for the mere fact that not for a second can any moment can be taken even momentarily as played straight.

Set in the elite British art world, Trance begins by setting up requisite rules, only to abandon them a few scenes later.  The film does this again and again and again.  Simon (James McAvoy) is a tweedy art auctioneer who suffers amnesia after the botched theft of Goya's masterpiece painting Witches in the Air.  It is revealed he was a part of the heist, but can't remember where he hid the painting, of which is perplexing to leader of the pack goon Franck (Vincent Cassel; tops at playing the oiliest of men.)  Bereft of ideas, Simon decides to see a hypnotist named Elizabeth (Rosario Dawson) in an attempt to find out where he may have hid the painting.  The proceedings become more and more convoluted and ridiculous as Elizabeth becomes more entangled with Franck and Simon, as the prisms of memory, dreams and reality become further linked together.  On the outset it sounds like a hip and trippy zinger and for the first third of the play, there's a promise and smidgeon of thrills to match Boyle's trigger happy zeal.

However upon enveloping twists, it's clear the filmmakers are more interested in pulling the rug under us as much as possible to keep the conceit going and suddenly Trance finds itself in the bargain basement realm of shlock M. Night Shyamalan terrain.  Written by Joe Ahearne (with a touch-up job by John Hodge), the film reveals itself to be little more than a tease, a glimmer of the great fun a nifty twister could provide giving the tight elements of something resembling structure.  I promise not to provide spoilers, but Trance feels somewhat spoiler-proof because its confusing and hardly cares enough to add up in the first place.  The character of Simon hardly makes sense to begin with and as played with the bland cuddliness of McAvoy it becomes harder to chew upon.

It's curious that Trance was made while Boyle was preparing for his duties as director of the Opening Ceremonies for the 2012 London Olympics because the film reads rushier, more frantic and splattered all over the place.  And while a stylish abandon adorns the movie at every turn (with lots of help from the gifted cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle), there's such a lack of control that as it shrugs to its concluding nonsense, the logic has outnumbered the visual finesse and it just feels limp, of which is somewhat ironic for a movie that hinges a huge plot point on the flesh of Rosario Dawson's body.  D+

127 Hours

Like many, I would assume, my introduction to the work of director Danny Boyle was his 1996 international breakthrough, Trainspotting, the masterful Scottish film about heroin addicts.  What was so radiant about the film, aside from Boyle's formidable kinetic visual tricks, was the way we focused on the high itself, in all its grimy exhilaration; making what was a difficult movie tackling a difficult subject matter not only vital cinema, but dare we say it: fun.  Since then the inventive British fabulist has ventured in horror (2003's 28 Days Later), science fiction (2007's Sunshine) and sought Oscar approval (2008's Slumdog Millionaire) for the most part without losing sight of the edgy, nervy styling that made an art house champion.  His latest, 127 Hours, I believe comes closest to the transcendent, truly vital cinema that Trainspotting was.  Again, it focuses on a "high," this one not in the form of a substance, but in a lone ranger's exploration; the rush of an adrenaline junkies search for the unknown.  There's added emotional heft for this survival story, as it's based on a true one, that of Aron Ralston, who out in the Canyonlands Park in Utah in the spring of 2003, got his right hand stuck under a boulder, whose only freedom was the chip away as his arm with a dull knife.  The film was based on the memoir by Ralston, entitled Between a Rock and a Hard Place.

In the film, we meet Ralston (played by James Franco) as he's setting out for exploration, by his lonesome, which is felt was he prefers.  He's been there before, and has all the hiking, mountain climbing gear.  There's pretty shots of him mountain biking on the surface of the challenging terrain, all filmed to the hilt, with maximum dexterity by the gifted Anthony Dod Mantle (the Academy Award winning lenser of Slumdog Millionaire, as well as the austere, brilliantly filmed Dogville.)  Ralston is seen as an expert of the great outdoors, throwing caution to the wind-- he's a good ole boy looking for fun and adventure.  He meets two attractive hikers (Kate Mara and Amber Tamblyn) as poses as their guide, showing them the beautiful, albeit dangerous side, that of which would never be endorsed by guidebooks.  The two girls make googly-eyes and pose invitations to meet Ralston again, but as quick as they meet, he's off in the search of something new; he could almost be a poster child for the ADD-generation.

Off exploring in caves, god-knows how many miles away from civilization, Ralston gets stuck.  A rock has pinned his right arm down, his legs dangling the air, and for the first time in Boyle's film, everything starts to slow down, if only for a minute.  We see the giant blob of blood on the side, and a giant close-up of Franco's face, as he nervously tries to relax and focus-- for the first time it just got real, and the high is coming down.  The rest of the film plays sort of like an art-house\grindhouse version of Cast Away, but it's the nervy and visceral way that Boyle makes the claustrophobia of Ralstom's survivalist story so unique, and like Trainspotting, kinda...fun.  Which sort of feels wrong to say, but there's an exhilaration at work in 127 Hours that feels missing from nearly any movie Hollywood has made this year, and even the midst of one man's struggle, and seeming death, the film has an unbelievable way of making not only the fear palpable, but give it such immense scope.

There's few teasing glimpses of relief for Ralston, the fifteen minutes of sunlight in the morning, the sighting of a raven every morning at 9:30, and his camcorder to provide a diary of his journey, or a last will and testament.  Yet the uncanny naturist does fights the entire time-- making a pulley for comfort, and ineffectual rescue, chipping away at the rock with his dull blade for hours on end; there's a sequence when he drops his knife, and the effort to pick it up with his shoe and a twig that would make MacGyver proud.  But the harsh reality is that no one will hear his screams, and his water supply is almost out, and this where 127 Hours becomes almost quietly profound, in the hallucinations of his family he never see again, to the girl he may have wrongly dumped.  Boyle manages to get away with this because he never goes soft on Ralston-- each flashback and such is brought right back to the boulder he's trapped under.  The film wouldn't work nearly as successfully without the efforts of Franco, whose shape-shifting "meta" career is brought to new heights with a performance that's not just achingly physical, but beautifully poignant.  There's a moment when Franco recalls his past love, or sexual experience, and aches at the thought of possibly never feeling that again...he hesitates at the thought of masturbating one last time, and fights it...it may sound silly, but it's one of the most authentic and utterly humane moments in the film.

Much, it seems at least online, has been surrounded around the graphic nature of the 127 Hours, that of which prompted a few festival patrons to feint.  On this I'll just say that while I wholeheartedly embrace the film, it isn't for the feint of heart-- as exhilarating and validating as I think the film is, it is none the less raw and bloody.  Boyle doesn't shy away from the saving grace towards the end.  I, personally desensitized likely from the crappy gorefests viewed at a young age, handled it, I suppose, as best as one can, but I noticed a lot of fidgeting and uncomfortable viewers in the crowded movie theater with me.  It's nowhere near the gross torture-porn crap like the Hostels or Saws, but it feels more real.  I suppose enter at your own risk, but the risk is worth it, I'd say.  A-

127 Hours

The teaser has arrived for Danny Boyle's latest, 127 Hours, the true story of man (played by James Franco) who was trapped by a boulder on canyon trip in Utah in 2003.  The man, Aron Ralston, survived by sawing his arm off with a dull knife blade.  The only recent film that seems to spin up instantly is Cast Away, another lone ranger film of survival.  The teaser is anything is not bold and vibrant, highlighting past Boyle films, including the Fox Searchlight years (2003-present), his current hot streak of 28 Days Later (2003), Millions (2005), Sunshine (2007) and Slumdog Millionaire (2008).  I've always counted myself as a fan of Boyle's work (my favorite being Trainspotting), and while the Slumdog machine was not nearly my favorite Oscar victory, I do eagerly look forward to this one, especially since Franco is nothing if not an interesting actor at the moment. 

In the last two years, Franco I believe has truly earned that early Freaks and Geeks and James Dean promise, with the notable range-y against type turns in Pineapple Express and Milk, segueing into the surreal with a role in General Hospital, as Julia Robert's yogi younger boyfriend in Eat Pray Love, continuing later this year with a turn as Allen Ginsberg in Howl, and this.  He will likely have the oddest box-set DVD collection ever at this rate-- I'm game.  127 Hours will premiere at the fall film festivals later next month (like Slumdog did two years ago), and open November 5th.

DGA Awards

and the winners are:

DIRECTOR (Feature)
Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire

DIRECTOR (Documentary)
Ari Foreman, Waltz With Bashir

and it's official-- this boring Academy year is decided-- Slumdog Millionaire wins...everything. With this win, a prime indicator of the best picture race, Slumdog adds to it's GLOBE, PGA, SAG ENSEMBLE, CRITICS CHOICE, and plentiful critic's prizes. Very boring...blah. Slumdog also won the USC Scriptor award for best adapted screenplay.