The film sacrifices some of its innate appeal by making ham out of the supposed relics of a less enlightened era.
Baltasar Kormákur’s film is a tasteful, sweeping, carefully balanced reconciliation between the irrefutable authority of nature and mankind’s innate need to circumvent it.
The film’s form doesn’t distract from the content, and lets the characters speak for themselves.
Professional confectioner Lasse Hallström directs with the generic, bright dullness that’s become his default setting.
Throughout 127 Hours, Danny Boyle’s artistry capitalizes on his audience’s attention-deficit disorders.
The film’s hyperactively effervescent portrait of ingrained social barriers and altruism’s ability to demolish them is genuine and sweet.
The film is brisk, peppy, light on its feet, and tries awfully hard to be reminiscent of a fast-talking Depression-era rags-to-riches comedy.