127 Hours Directed by Danny Boyle Unstoppable Directed by Tony Scott A lively, unmovable rock and an actually unboring runaway train

For a movie about a brush with death, Danny Boyle’s 127 Hours bursts with life. Its first 20 minutes are a rush of joie de vivre, with pulsing, jubilant Slumdog Millionaire-esque music accompanying images of a Red Bulled young man named Aron as readies for a weekend in a Utah canyon. The writer-director splits the screen and flicks through scenes of the stuff the guy packs, the phone call he ignores, the string of taillights he sees as he hits gridlock leaving the city. Once he reaches a camping ground, Aron says to his videocamera: “Just me, the music, and the night. Love it.”

The next day Aron is just as pumped, racing on his bike across orange earth and blue skies, laughing even when he takes a nasty fall. He’s clearly savoring solitude but is just as pleased when he runs into two lovely hikers (Amber Tamblyn and Kate Mara). Together they squeeze through non-sanctioned trails, swim in an underground oasis, flirt like crazy, and have a great time. The impromptu date ends with the girls inviting Aron to a party and then leaving him by his lonesome. He returns to exploring the canyon, angling his body confidently through tight, nature-built hallways—until a boulder falls on his right arm, trapping him.

Only now does the title pop up, for only now does the film truly begin.

Everyone knows that 127 Hours is the true story of Aron Ralston, the adventurer who freed himself from that rock by amputating his arm. So the story isn’t about what but how—not only how Aron, buzzily played by James Franco, survived, but how Boyle and his star could make such an intense but stationary situation riveting for 94 minutes.

A terrific performance, naturally, is crucial, and Franco takes us with startling verité through the aftermath of Aron’s should-be-fatal accident. There’s obstinate anger (“Move this fucking rock!” he yells to himself), panic (hearing his bellows for help echo through an utterly empty canyon is stomach-sinking), grief (he sobs as he nearly drowns during a storm). For much of the time, however, Aron stays as level-headed as anyone could in the situation—taping himself as he leaves messages for his family, strategizes, or just talks to the camera for something to do. When Aron realizes his dull utility knife won’t pare down that boulder, he devises a tourniquet and gives the camera a nearly mischievous look as the idea of amputation dawns.

Boyle, meanwhile, breaks up the potential monotony by interjecting flashbacks and Aron’s memories, the most gut-wrenching of which is that he stubbornly told no one where he was going that weekend. And then there’s that bubble of life again: As Aron grows delirious, he imagines himself at those girls’ party and, more crucially, sees a vision of the son he doesn’t yet have. It’s enough to finally make him cut through that arm, a scene which is of course squirm-inducing but not nearly as graphic as most horror movies, with Boyle switching and blurring angles.

Most critical to getting through the ordeal, though—both for Aron and the audience—is the sense of triumph that accompanies it. Galloping music (courtesy of Slumdog’s Oscar-winning composer A. R. Rahman) is followed by a moment of quiet when Aron is finally free; then there’s the harsh but welcome sunlight and a quickening soundtrack again. It’s joyful and cathartic, and a cinematic experience you won’t soon forget.

Unstoppable Directed by Tony Scott

Unstoppable is occasionally just as rousing but less emotionally fraught—a brainless actioner in which the characters have a mere line or two of backstory about which you really don’t care. Its main character, after all, is a train—a runaway train, as director Tony Scott and writer Mark Bomback won’t let us forget. Or, more dramatically: It’s a “missile the size of the Chrysler Building!” For good measure, the thing roars like Jurassic Park’s dinomonsters. This film isn’t doing Amtrak any favors.

The drama begins when a lazy railyard employee (Ethan Suplee) hops off a train he’s moving to flip a switch and can’t manage to get back on. (He’s taking the locomotive to another track to make room for another one that will ferry students on a train-safety field trip. The children!) At first those in charge assume it’s a “coaster,” i.e., a train that will eventually stop once it runs out of momentum. But dude left it under power, which means it picks up speed (and without its air brakes engaged!) until it’s, well, essentially unstoppable. Plus, re: that missile quote, it’s carrying toxic chemicals. Of course it is.

Waiting on the other end of the line is the film’s unwitting humanization, railroad engineer Frank (Denzel Washington) and conductor Will (Star Trek’s Chris Pine). They’re an odd couple, of course. Frank is nearing a forced retirement, and Chris is a hotshot who the old guys resent because he’s one of the young things taking their jobs. So the two bicker and banter and talk about why we’re supposed to root for them: Frank’s wife died and he has a somewhat lacking relationship with his teenage daughters, and Chris’ wife has a temporary restraining order against him, which keeps him from seeing his son and means she won’t take his calls.

But back to that runaway train. When all attempts to stop it fail, it’s up to Frank and Will to save the day, lest it either collide with our potential heroes’ train or derail in a populous Pennsylvania town and cause mass destruction.

If you’re the type to whoop, gasp, and clap during movies, Unstoppable is designed to make you do so. Scott, shockingly, has his irritating, frenetic editing style somewhat under control, limiting himself to some staccatoed shots and lots of close-ups of sparking rails and panicked eyes. And because we need some bust-ups before the big, inevitable showdown, there are even a few random car crashes and explosions to sate overzealous action fans. Meanwhile, dialogue includes barked lines like “Luck has no business in a rail yard!”

It’s all utterly stupid yet utterly gripping, its tension coming not so much from concern about whether our main characters will survive as this view of train travel as the most dangerous form of transit. In between booms, Washington, Pine, and Rosario Dawson (as head of the railroad line) lend enough charm and pedigree to save Unstoppable from B-movie status. But in the battle of man vs. metal, it’s the thrill of the latter that may make you applaud.