And The Oscar Goes To...

The King’s Speech

***1/2 out of ****

Directed by: Tom Hooper

Starring: Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, Helena Bonham Carter, Guy Pearce and Michael Gambon

Running time: 118 minutes

The virtual front-runners for this year’s Best Picture Oscar may seem different, but have much in common.

The first is the zeitgeist-defining The Social Network, from broody, cynical, ultra-stylist David Fincher and quick-as-a-whip screenwriter Aaron Sorkin – it insightfully chronicles how broadening one’s own social network leads to a more impersonal existence.

The second is a crowd-pleasing historical drama called The King’s Speech, from Tom Hooper, known best for his work on miniseries centering on Queen Elizabeth and John Adams, and playwright David Seidler. It thoroughly examines how the arrival of radio would lead to a cohesive, well, network between royalty and their citizens.

When the Academy decides to vote in February, I’m predicting that they choose the latter film, less polished than Network yet just as riveting and more inspiring, as the best of the year.

Tales of adversity usually feature ordinary people accomplishing an extraordinary feat, but The King’s Speech instead focuses on a man in an extraordinary position who must strive to complete an ordinary task for the benefit of his citizens.

Colin Firth plays King George VI, back when his father reigned and he was better known to the public as the Duke of York. His family called him “Bertie.” Bertie is a stammerer, and is ridiculed by the press for his stuttering. His wife, Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), seeks the help of an unconventional Australian speech therapist, Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), to help mend his speech. After one visit, Bertie is uninterested.

However, the emergence of radio casts the Royal Family into the scenario of making public statements and commenting on diplomatic matters in Europe. Bertie becomes intimidated by this new responsibility, especially around his confident, fair-spoken father, King George V (Michael Gambon) and brother, Edward VIII (Guy Pearce).

To combat his stammering, and with the need to reach a public audience more vital as the threat of war becomes imminent, Bertie takes up Lionel’s proposition and the two start teaming up on elaborate speech therapy (expanding the diaphragm, vocal exercises such as reciting Shakespeare, jumping up and down to loosen the tension, etc.) while forming a close friendship.

This bond between Bertie and Lionel is not as much about fixing a voice as it is about finding one. As the two men become acquainted, Bertie comes to find Lionel as his only true friend. The shackled, controlling life of the Royal Family may have been the cause of his stammering, since Bertie, rarely favoured by his father and mocked by his brother, has been lonely and repressed for much of his life.

The need to perfect his public speaking becomes even more grave when his brother abdicates the throne, leaving Bertie the position of King. Of course, this means that Bertie gets the notable word over the radio.

In one scene, Gambon’s King George V quips that the social power of the radio is turning the most powerful people into the lowest form of public servant: actors. This statement got rapturous laughter from the audience I saw the film with, likely because The King’s Speech features the finest performance given on any screen this year, courtesy of Colin Firth.

When actors commit to a role, much dedication is required to master the nuances of the dialogue in order to fit the character. Firth, instead, is challenged to work out the mannerisms, rhythms and inner plights of a character who struggles to even open his mouth.

He brings remarkable colour and depth to the role: in an early scene, where he tells a bedtime story to his young daughters, Firth battles with his words. He is simply trying to talk to his daughters, but stumbling on a few words, his heartfelt admission of love to his children is also a roadblock that he must deal with. It’s a gripping, deeply moving, mesmerizing portrayal.

It’s always welcome to see a movie where the performances are better because they bounce off ones that are equally as good, supporting and feeding off one another. Rush is excellent as the King’s wry, confident confidante, and shares precious (and quite hilarious) ping-pong banter with Firth. Logue, who was a failed stage actor without proper credentials for speech therapy, never saw his sessions with Bertle as a way to break into the upper echelon of royal life, but as his duty.

Helena Bonham Carter, the devoted wife, and Guy Pearce, the not-so-devoted king, bring considerable depth to their characters, as well, although both are underused.

The King’s Speech, originally planned as a stage play, comes from the pen of a playwright named David Seidler. Seidler struggled with a stutter for much of his life, so this film is his triumph, too. In fact, the story of his life may be more interesting. As a young boy, after his family fled Britain to the United States during the 1930s, he listened to the King’s wartime radio broadcasts, and used King George VI as an inspiration to improve his own manner of speaking.

This is a “passion project” of the highest order, and Seidler finely measures the balance between character study, educational tool and buddy comedy entertainment (some may even call it a “bromance.”) It is sharp and sympathetic storytelling.

The King’s Speech, with its historical setting and period piece mannerisms, may have “Oscar bait” written all over it, yet it is a film that royally deserves the gold it’s bound to get. This is Seidler’s triumphant speech, really, captured in a way that is as gripping as it is crowd-pleasing. The Academy has their work cut out for them.

All Country for Young Woman

True Grit

*** out of ****

Directed by: Joel and Ethan Coen

Starring: Jeff Bridges, Hailee Steinfeld, Matt Damon, Barry Pepper and Josh Brolin

Running time: 112 minutes

Few directors are as fascinating to watch as brothers Joel and Ethan Coen. The Oscar-winning duo usually pack their films with banter as loopy as it is sour, and the careful attention to detail (symbols, colours, set decoration) that gives introspective viewers joy in revisiting their films.

While True Grit is not a misfire in any means for the Coens, given the creative tendencies behind their previous pictures, it feels more like a solid genre picture than one pursued from their own artistic impulses.

Still, few writer/directors could have done such a fine job with a remake, especially one with the legacy of John Wayne’s iconic, award-winning turn as Reuben “Rooster” Cogburn. In the original, it was John Cogburn who had the “true grit” the title alluded to. In 2010, that belongs to Hailee Steinfeld’s sharp-witted, determined portrayal of the precocious Mattie Ross.

Mattie is seeking revenge on Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin), an outlaw who killed her father and made off with his horses and gold. She hires the hard-tooting, whiskey-ridden gunslinger Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) to capture Chaney and ensure he returns to town to be hanged in front of the locals. Texas Ranger La Bouef (Matt Damon) rides along, out to settle a score with Chaney regarding a crime committed in his home state.

It wouldn’t be a Coen adventure if it weren’t accompanied by crisp, gorgeous photography from Roger Deakins or frank, folk-variety melodies from composer Carter Burwell.

Deakins, a fan of saturated colouring, slowly pans the camera to settle in on the authentic setting, whether in a crowded courtroom or the bare New Mexico wilderness. Few Hollywood craftsmen deserve an Oscar on their mantle as badly as Deakins, who is empty-handed after eight nominations. This award season, there’s hope.

That drought will likely not sustain for a young actress like Hailee Steinfeld, who delivers one of the finest screen debuts you’re likely to ever see from a young actress. Just 14, Steinfeld has to match Bridges’ hefty persona while mastering Portis’s thick diction, and she brilliantly holds her own at both. She has a bright and prosperous career ahead of her.

Speaking of Portis, the Coens borrow a great deal from his original novel, with his sharp, brazenly colourful dialogue handled just as faithfully as the Coens were to Cormac McCarthy’s somber themes in No Country for Old Men.

Bridges fills Wayne’s boots easily, offering the same surly, cocksure manner and foolish grin that he has encompassed since the Coens catapulted him to cult-like status as “The Dude.” Unfortunately, the film's one-note characters ensure that the slew of excellent performances here add up to less than the fine work given. Mattie and Rooster feel restricted in emotion for much of the duration until finally giving off a few shades of colour in the final reel.

So while the Coens remain true – perhaps this time around, even truer – to Portis’s 1968 novel, and saddle up the western with an impressive cast and a fantastic visual schematic, it lacks, well, grit in its directorial vision and ability to develop character.

Top Tens: #1 (Part 2)

The Top Twenty Movies That Everybody Loves… Except Me

(#10 - #1)

10. Casino

Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas, one of his finest big screen accomplishments, was a slick and well-acted gangster film, full of gripping characters and remarkable depth. When the director tried his hand at capturing the era of the Mob in Las Vegas years later, it came across as slick… and not much else. From the bloated running time to the overwrought performances, this film feels like Goodfellas’ sleazier, lazier little cousin.

9. Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl

I will admit that Captain Jack Sparrow is one of the greatest characters that Disney has ever unveiled. Johnny Depp’s performance is inspired lunacy – funny, sly, charming, weirdly unique, and quick to action. Or, in other words, everything that this first Pirates installment is not. An exceptional performance can only go so far, and Depp couldn’t stop this insipid and uninspired adventure from sinking under the anchor of its own stupidity.

8. The Princess Bride

Find this pick on my list inconceivable? To be fair, I was smitten by the wit and charm of the film’s excellent opening half-hour. Then, I became greatly disappointed to find that the remainder couldn’t match the opening's momentum, deft comedic wit and poignancy. Many screenwriters focus much of their attention on the first 30 pages (the set-up of the film until the first plot point), but everything onward felt like it was being composed from an unfinished draft that could not find its tone or flow. This is even more unfortunate considering that the screenwriter, the legendary William Goldman, also wrote the original Princess Bride novel in 1973.

7. The Blind Side

A wealthy Southern family takes in a homeless teenager, and inspires him to become a strong-willed left tackle on the field. The man is a young Michael Oher, who now plays for the Baltimore Ravens. Oher publicly stated that he hated the film. Why would that be? Perhaps it's because the film depicts him as a cuddly, lovable mute (akin to a pet) and gives credit to the Tuohys (a rich, white family) for catapulting the accomplishments of an exceptional African-American athlete. Is the film enjoyable? Sure. But there’s nothing feel-good about a movie that preaches tolerance but ends up pandering to its audience by using racial stereotypes.

6. Ed Wood

This is a bad movie about a bad filmmaker who made bad movies. But while the actual Ed Wood was a passionate showman who just happened to make some horrendous B-pictures, Tim Burton (this film’s director) is one of the most revered and respected in Hollywood. So you’d expect the film would have the flair, the dark whimsy and the unnerving zeal of his other pictures. Instead, it is a flat biopic that features a tone-deaf and irritating performance from Johnny Depp (a low point for the celebrated actor).

5. Scarface

Cuban gangster and drug lord extraordinaire Tony Montana has become a cinematic icon, mainly due to the gusto and verve of Al Pacino’s performance. But Montana is also an embarrassingly shallow, over-the-top cartoon who values decadent substances over real substance – and the film is just as bloated, unpleasant and shameless as the character. Brian De Palma dedicated Scarface to Howard Hawks and Ben Hecht, director and writer of the legendary (and controversial) original 1932 film, but one would shudder to think what they would think of this ill-conceived update.

4. Platoon

I have no doubt that Oliver Stone, a Vietnam vet, has some powerful, personal things to say in this Best Picture winner about young recruits coming to grips with their lives amidst the horror of the Vietnam War. Yes, the cinematography is crisp and stark, the performances (especially from Tom Berenger and William Dafoe) are potent and some of the nighttime battles are driven by a mad, virile intensity. There’s much artistic integrity to admire here, but I was left cold by how little the film immersed me within the heart of darkness of the war-torn region. There are many soldiers in this platoon, but when the film was over, I knew little about any of them. Without figures to latch onto, Platoon is a flat and impersonal film that I could never connect with emotionally.

3. Life is Beautiful

Dr. Strangelove blended comedy and the Cold War-era paranoia together perfectly. M*A*S*H* took the war in Korea and made a sublime laugh-out-loud farce (and subsequent TV show) out of it. But balancing a feel-good romantic comedy with the horrors of the Holocaust is a daunting task, and adored Italian filmmaker and comedian Roberto Benigni did not deliver. Instead, what begins as a beguiling love story ends up becoming nauseating, tasteless and entirely inappropriate. Words of advice to filmmakers, young and old: there is a time and a place to use comedy to entertain, satirize and inform, and inside a concentration camp during the 1940s is not one of them.

2. The Shining

This film is often cited as one of the landmarks of the horror genre, but even with Stanley Kubrick attached, the film is quite low on, well, anything horrific or scary. Sure, Nicholson is quite good as the crazed Jack Torrance, but the film is empty of humanity (the characters are self-absorbed caricatures) and, similar to the hotel hallways that Danny peddles through, vast and long-winded. Kubrick’s notable cinematic flourishes – the long takes and dizzying cinematography – build up some suspense but rarely materialize into a good scare.

1. The Breakfast Club

The stereotype. The stereotype. The stereotype. The stereotype. And, lest we forget, the stereotype. How did this movie become one of the most beloved films ever made about teenagers? Beats me. Frankly, I saw this film as a high-schooler and the character I sympathized with most was the dastardly principal, played by the bitterly funny Paul Gleason. Like him, I couldn’t stand spending any time with the principal characters.

In The Breakfast Club, the five stereotypes (Brian the brain, Andrew the jock, Claire the princess, Bender the criminal and Allison the basket case) must spend a Saturday together in detention. Throughout the day, they get to know each other’s secrets as they uncover the reasons why each were required to come to detention that day. It is an intriguing premise from the late great John Hughes, and the film is now universally revered for the way in which it “dissects” the respective stereotypes. It turns out that these five teenagers seem to have been negatively shaped from the attitudes of their parents; sadly, that’s as insightful as things get.

So does it offer a deep, intriguing, refreshing and realistic look at teenagers? Well, since I don’t recognize the attitudes and personalities of any of these characters personified within myself, my own friends or former high-school companions, not to me. So, contrary to the Simple Minds classic that plays over the end credits, I will gladly choose to forget this bunch.

Natalie: The Professional

Black Swan

***1/2 out of ****

Directed by: Darren Aronofsky

Starring: Natalie Portman, Vincent Cassel, Mila Kunis, Barbara Hershey and Winona Ryder

Running time: 108 minutes

The sweet, innocent bliss of the backstage musical finds a bite and a libido in Black Swan, easily the best psychosexual thriller to be set in the world of ballerinas.

One decade after Requiem For a Dream introduced zealous film lovers to Darren Aronofsky, the director has crafted another tale of tormenting addiction (although others may find it akin to his last feature, The Wrestler, which was also a compelling character study set in a world of very physical competition).

The addict at hand is one Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman), a dancer for a professional New York company who scores the coveted lead role in an ambitious director’s (Vincent Cassel) re-imagining of “Swan Lake.” Her addiction is to become the most exquisite ballerina in the company, achieving perfection on centre stage to rapturous applause.

But, Nina is required to master two performances: the White Swan and the Black Swan (the film is dominated by these yin-and-yang colours throughout). Poised and graceful, she easily excels at the former role – thanks to the rigorous support from her mother (Barbara Hershey), a failed dancer who cares for her daughter with the utmost dedication (she still cuts Nina's nails and insists she remain in their grimy apartment each night).

Unfortunately, her fragile physicality and demand to nail technique over feeling does not enable her to grasp the role of the villainous Black Swan. Since her director takes a shine to an aggressive new dancer, Lily (Mila Kunis) - who embodies the sexual allure of that part – Nina feels threatened.

Her personal sacrifices to obtain perfection are burrowing down on her, and she’s going slightly mad – seeing double visions of herself, conceiving some frighteningly sinful fantasies, and, oh yes, her skin becomes mysteriously enflamed. The situation becomes kinkier when Nina, a couth, virginal woman in comparison to the naughtier Lily, is seduced into opening up her body and experimenting with herself sexually. To play a character with a dark side, Nina must explore her own.

Black Swan is one of the most grueling cinematic experiences of the year – Nina's psychological battle with her own demons is startling and disturbing. This is a film where you will be tempted to shield your eyes but will not be able to resist being mesmerized by Portman’s tour de force and Aronofsky’s boldly orchestrated theatrics. On a different level, the film's plot is structured similarly to that of "Swan Lake," which will make subsequent viewings of this film intriguing.

Clint Mansell’s score, a rearranged composition of Tchaikovsky’s "Swan Lake," is haunting (and due to its reliance on adapted material, sadly ineligible for an Oscar), while Matthew Libatique uses a handheld camera and close framing to become attuned with the intricate movements and glorious physicality of the ballet performances. Unfortunately, Aronofsky moves the film into sensory overload a few times too many in the final third, relying more on booming “Boo” scares than psychological ones.

Portman, who was so fiercely confident in Leon and Closer, dedicated herself to 10 months of training to perfect the poise and professionalism of a ballerina. Try to think of an actress who prepared for a role of such mental and physical exertion, and then also had to portray aching vulnerability while having to grapple with delirious obsession.

It’s the performance of her career, and considering that she has already filled her filmography with several landmark roles, that only means one thing: time for Portman to start clearing out her awards mantle.

Digging in the Dirt

Rabbit Hole

***1/2 out of ****

Directed by: John Cameron Mitchell

Starring: Nicole Kidman, Aaron Eckhart, Dianne Wiest, Miles Teller and Sandra Oh

Running time: 92 minutes

Back at the Toronto Film Festival in 2006, John Cameron Mitchell’s Shortbus received a flurry of controversy for its explicit sexuality. Four years later, he has noticeably scaled back, offering a fragile but exceptionally acted look at a couple who cannot manage to approach foreplay in their own struggling relationship.

Based on a Pulitzer Prize-winning play by David Lindsay-Abaire (who also wrote the film’s screenplay), Rabbit Hole tumbles down the icy relationship between Becca (Nicole Kidman, also serving as producer) and Howie (Aaron Eckhart), a young couple in idyllic New York suburbia. But their situation is far from serene; eight months ago, their four-year-old son, Danny, chased the family dog onto the street and was killed when an oncoming car struck him.

The couple turned to grief counseling as a solution, but it has turned off Becca. She wants to mourn quietly, emptying the house of Danny’s things, planting flowers and separating herself from any form of human interaction – save the teenage driver (Miles Teller) who careened while behind the wheel. Howie continues going to “group,” where he befriends another griever (Sandra Oh) and insists on staying cooped up on the couch replaying a video of his son from his cell phone.

Slowly trying to pick up the pieces of normalcy and continue with their lives, Becca and Howie are inflicted by a collapsing marriage – neither are able to muster a few sentences together until they are interrupted by the other’s frustration.

As the tension mounts, the characters become more stormy and their interactions more constricted. Kidman and Eckhart are shatteringly good and unflinchingly honest. When discussing whether or not to move forward and having another child, her glassy stare chills his fiery outburst, and any of the romantic passion bared between the two beforehand is quickly vanquished. (Sex and the City’s Cynthia Nixon and John Slattery, of Mad Men fame, were their counterparts in the New York production, which awarded the former a Tony Award.)

Dianne Wiest also offers a nuanced, sensitive portrayal as Becca’s mother, who is still processing her own son’s suicide and can’t help but try to form connections. She is quickly reprimanded by her daughter who says the two deaths are unrelated.

Don’t mistake Rabbit Hole as an hour-and-a-half excuse to wallow under a weighty sadness, nor as one whose prime mission is to wrap up the sadness in a pretty package. Rather, take it as a moving exploration of people struggling to come to terms with the most emotionally fraught of scenarios and trying to learn how to compose their own sort of strength.

Mitchell directs with a compassionate, restrained touch, aware of the void eating up the characters without veering away from Lindsay-Abaire’s moments of light humour, brittle wit and catharsis. The film is far from a pleasant healing process, but its measured, humane performances make it a tender and powerful one.

Top Tens: #1 (Part 1)

The Top Twenty Movies That Everybody Loves… Except Me

You know the feeling. Your friends are talking about a movie, television show, book, etc., and there’s a consensus of universal admiration among the group regarding the title at hand. Except that you don’t agree. You try to voice your opinion on the matter and are immediately shut down by an onslaught of disapproving head-shakes and wide-eyed skepticism. As a critic, I get these disgusted looks more than my fair share. So I’m going to let my opinion take center stage and brace the response I get.

It sucks to be in the minority, but there’s something liberating about being in the underdog position. For my first Top Ten List (a two-part special, with #20 to #11 coming now, and the top 10 later in the week), I will be putting the record straight on movies that I feel are wildly overpraised and appreciated far beyond the level that they deserve.

Here goes Part 1 of the list...

20. Dead Poets Society

Likely the first movie about opportunistic teenagers to actually integrate “Carpe Diem” into its screenplay, Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society is, for the most part, a sincere and solidly acted (especially from Robin Williams and a pre-House Robert Sean Leonard) coming-of-age tale about a class of prep school boys. That’s before it ushers in one of the most ludicrous climaxes I can remember – one that’s not only bewildering but one that flies in the face in the film’s seize-the-day message. Even an inspiring and oft-imitated final scene can’t repair the damage.

19. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

Auteurs are known for putting a personal stamp – usually thematically or stylistically – on each of their films, but this snoozer is a big stain on Wes Anderson’s otherwise terrific filmography. An A-list ensemble is being led by Bill Murray’s title character on an expedition to hunt down the shark that killed the oceanographer’s partner. It’s nice to look at, and the Bowie-packed soundtrack is a hoot, but with flat jokes, bland characters and an unfocused narrative, it’s a difficult movie to stick with. Anderson’s dry quirkiness and deadpan humour is usually refreshing, but here, it just feels tired. Now, go rent Fantastic Mr. Fox!

18. Ghost World

The cult hit, based off an adored comic book by Daniel Clowes, has one thing going for it: it features one of Steve Buscemi’s finest hours. But the misadventures of two misfits (Thora Birch and Scarlett Johannson) trying to figure out what to do after graduating from high school is featured in a film as smug, off-kilter and aimless as the girls themselves.

17. Across the Universe

If you were ever curious to what The Beatles’ classics would look like on MTV, filmed by the most coked-up crew of storytellers one could summon, you may enjoy this movie. Or you may hate it with a deeply venomous passion like I do. This big-budget musical disgrace to the Fab Four has nothing fabulous about it. The story of a group of teenagers living it up in the 1960s are messily held together by 34 Beatles tunes. Compiled together, they actually make the narrative more difficult to figure out. Julie Taymor, often cited as a visionary, bombards the senses with hyper, migraine-inducing visuals and the set-pieces are overly pretentious. 30 minutes in, I wanted to… turn… this… off…

15 [tie]. Wedding Crashers

Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn make a dream team for a fantastic comedy concept… for an SNL sketch. But stretched to a 2-hour running time, this R-rated raunchfest loses steam quickly. The duo’s rocket-fire chemistry is strong, but the film fails to offer much else. Even Will Ferrell's beloved cameo at the film’s end seems like a desperate attempt to milk sorely needed laughs. Unable to balance a saccharine-filled romance with its overwhelming crudeness, this is one adult-oriented comedy blockbuster that I didn’t care for…

15 [tie]. The Hangover

… And here’s another. An initially inspired premise about a trio of friends trying to piece together a wild night in Vegas turns into a loud, queasy, crass, immature, mean-spirited, and only sporadically funny affair. The cast tries hard, and manage to inject their under-developed characters with spunk and a tad of heart, but their efforts only go so far. The script is more concerned with piling on the bewildering situations than it is with giving these characters much to do. You know your film’s off-track when the only dignified performance comes from an air-drumming Mike Tyson. Some guys just can’t handle Vegas, but others (like me) have a tougher time handling dim-witted comedies.

14. Clerks

This black-and-white film shot for a miniscule budget has endured as a cult classic, having launched the career of writer/director Kevin Smith. His ear for crafting sequences composed mainly of snappy, irreverent dialogue is as astute as ever, but the vile profanity, episodic story-line and low-life characters can only go so far. Following a day in the life of two convenience store clerks, the film is an uncomfortably demeaning and dim hour-and-a-half.

13. Cool Runnings

You know the poor, live-action, family friendly Disney comedies of the 1980s and 1990s? Cool Runnings is the one that somehow manages to remain unscathed by the masses, having adopted a large fan following. It may be uplifting in sections, and John Candy does a nice job in one of his final roles, but it also features an ill-conceived, stereotypical depiction of Jamaicans that comes off as patronizing. Also, the film, “inspired” by the story of the first Jamaican bobsled team, is completely off-base from the real-life events. It’s hard to cheer for this team when the film seems to be cheating with its own story and characters.

12. My Cousin Vinny

And the most undeserved win in Oscar history goes to… Marisa Tomei’s shrill, caricature performance in this brainless attempt at a litigation-style comedy. Joe Pesci stars as the under-experienced lawyer called on to defend his cousin in a murder trial. But, the actor’s efforts are wasted in this one-note comedy that’s not only a disgraceful depiction of the American legal process but a total misfire with cheap and obvious situational humour.

11. Terminator 2: Judgment Day

The original film was fresh and frightening, a sci-fi adventure that managed to be both compelling and no-holds-barred fun. Its sequel feels bigger and has a broader appeal, but it’s also bloated and watered-down for mass consumption, making it far more sterile (i.e. less riveting) than the original model. This seems like an attempt to cash in on the merits of a sci-fi classic by moving forward with the pyrotechnics and backwards on just about everything else; in essence, it epitomizes much of James Cameron’s filmography.

The Top 10 Picks will be posted later in the week... including a Best Picture winner, a film from both Stanley Kubrick and Martin Scorsese, and two starring Johnny Depp! Stay tuned.

To Be a Rock and Not to Roll

127 Hours

***1/2 out of ****

Directed by: Danny Boyle

Starring: James Franco, Kate Mara, Amber Tamblyn, Clemence Poesy and Treat Williams

Running time: 96 minutes

Throughout 127 Hours, an uncommon cinematic convention –- splitting the screen into vertical thirds –- is employed. On the left and right sides are images of mass crowds, such as cars crunched together in a traffic jam or a group of birds flying together. In the middle is our protagonist, Aron Ralston (portrayed by James Franco), a man who epitomizes the enduring spirit of the individual.

At the film’s start, Ralston throws together a knapsack of supplies, including a camera and Nalgene overflowing with water, drives from his Colorado home to the jagged, sun-baked canyons of a Utah national park, and escapes. This is his paradise from the bullish throes of everyday life, where he bikes, goes spelunking with two attractive girls (Kate Mara and Amber Tamblyn) and experiences nirvana while exploring its vast dunes.

Unfortunately, while journeying through the rocky formations, a boulder pins his arm to the side of a cave wall and Ralston becomes stuck. He tries to use a dull knife to chip at the boulder and loosen it, but to no avail. He is, literally, caught between a rock and a hard place (also the title of the book published by Ralston that this film is adapted from).

Ralston personifies such a level of freedom and catharsis, it’s no wonder that a director as visually and emotionally expansive as Danny Boyle would choose to bring it to life. Like his last film, the award-winning crowd-pleaser Slumdog Millionaire, Boyle’s latest is a triumph of adversity. But instead of throttling through India, 127 Hours mostly takes place within the confines that sandwiched Ralston.

Like the dreamy images of Latika waiting at the train station from that earlier film, Ralston imagines the ex-girlfriend (Clemence Poesy) and adoring family who are leaps and bounds away. Like Slumdog, it has Anthony Dod Mantle’s layered, hi-def cinematography and A.R. Rahman’s thumping score (sadly, the latter is not as effective here)

Boyle, whose camera is always active and edits just as swift, has less room to move. Still, he relies on his intoxicating visual style to serve as a vibrant counteractor for Ralston's loneliness. For instance, a thirst-quenching montage of clips from soft-drink commercials and a hyperactive fast-forward styled shot showing the distance between Ralston and his car, where drinks lie waiting on the front seat, will make you crave a drink as badly as our protagonist. While 127 Hours is inspiring, it also unrelentingly urges you to take a sip of water (which is, my friends, visceral filmmaking at its finest.)

As our trapped canyoneer, James Franco virtually ensures an Oscar nomination for the demanding psyche of the role, which includes having to yelp in unbearable pain in a few aching moments, while also capably unleashing Ralston's gruff, sarcastic tone and determined spirit. He even manages to capture spurts of hope -- a smile when the dazzling sight of a bird appears flying overhead -- even as time seems to stand still.

Franco also nails the sorrow within Ralston's several heart-breaking confessions, recorded on his camcorder as a diary of his grueling experience. He comes to realize that the rock may have been waiting for him his whole life, capitalizing at the right moment to knock his own detached persona into place.

For those who know of Ralston’s experience (or who have heard reports of fainting and walk-outs from local screenings), you know that the climactic sequence -– Ralston’s last stand against the boulder –- is a jarring and graphically bloody affair. The scene is quite short and mesmerizing, if you have the stomach to keep your eyes peeled to the screen.

Regardless, even if you cannot fathom the dizzying two-minute whelp of gore near the film’s end, you should make it your duty to witness all 94 other minutes of this extraordinary film.

This is a triumphant and incredibly personal quest at its core, and neither Franco nor Boyle forget that. 127 Hours is

easily the most visceral film of the year and surely one of the finest, an adventure that encompasses the tremendous resilience of a man who plunged remarkable depths but was left stranded within the depths of his own despair.