Friday, February 18, 2011
Some people might not like the movie for its gruesome scene. While some others would not be very happy about the entire premise of the movie and how its about a guy's arm trapped under a stone. But, nobody can deny that, its when such circumstances are created, that an actor's true ability comes to play. If and how he manages to keep you engrossed and enthralled, is what proves the actor's mettle.
And Franco does that amazingly well. His anguish, his pain, his misery, his acceptance of seemingly inevitable death and then his fighting back with renewed vigor, his describing his own piss as musky whiskey, his replaying of the girl taking of her top, his thinking about the love of his life - all these and more such moments are brought alive by Franco and make you identify with him. You are actually made to wonder about what would you have done had you been in his place.
And then the final scene. The way he carries out the blood curdling scene at the end of the 127 hours, how does a person decide to cut off his own hand?? How does he have the will to do such a thing? How does he manage to walk back after that? And I have been hearing of people vomiting and fainting by JUST WATCHING THE SCENE!!
The movie is a must watch by all counts. Great acting and great direction. They make you long for the next master class by Danny Boyle or James Franco.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Not written by me. But one which expresses a lot.
What's wrong with you, with us,
what's happening to us?
Ah our love is a harsh cord
that binds us wounding us
and if we want
to leave our wound,
it makes a new knot for us and condemns us
to drain our blood and burn together.
What's wrong with you? I look at you
and I find nothing in you but two eyes
like all eyes, a mouth
lost among a thousand mouths
that I have kissed, more beautiful,
a body just like those that have slipped
beneath my body without leaving any memory.
And how empty you went through the world
like a wheat-colored jar
without air, without sound, without substance!
I vainly sought in you
depth for my arms
that dig, without cease, beneath the earth:
beneath your skin, beneath your eyes,
beneath your double breast scarcely raised
a current of crystalline order
that does not know why it flows singing.
Why, why, why,
my love, why?