Problem Solving in 127 Hours

This was an extremely impressive film to me. It was amazing from an audience’s standpoint. It takes place in a  space roughly the size of a phone booth for the better part of a week and it still managed to keep me interested the entire time. The transformation of Aaron from a happy-go-lucky guy to one struggling for survival is a feat that James Franco pulled off expertly. And, from a technical perspective, the climax of the film was one of the most impressive special effects I can recall. All good reasons to like this movie. But what I really loved was that this showed me a story I have never seen before.

I know Aaron’s story. I watched the news reports of his self-rescue right after they happened with great interest. I watched his documentary made with Peter Jennings with fascination. I hiked some of the same landscapes Aaron did. And I did them alone, and without telling anyone where I was going. In short, his story speaks to me on a very personal level. So when I saw the film, I knew, in a general sense, what to expect. For those unaware, Aaron goes on a hike in a secluded canyon. He fails to tell anyone where he’s going. While climbing down a narrow canyon, a rock dislodges and traps his arm. He’s stuck there for the titular 127 hours. In this time he dehydrates severally, hallucinates, tries several different methods of moving the rock, and finally, when all else has failed, he amputates his own arm. He then finishes his hike, as that’s a shorter distance than the way he came in, stumbles across some hikers who give him their food and water, and finally a helicopter comes and whisks him to a hospital, saving his life.

They could have told this story several ways. Knowing the story as well as I did, I knew that it was no coincidence that the helicopter was there. His mother had been looking for him frantically. She managed to guess his email password, read his messages, contacted his coworkers, and took guesses as to where he might be. She called all the potential parks, where they found his car. Once they had found the car, they sent the lifesaving helicopter. This movie could have been about the relationship between Aaron and his mother. A family reuniting has been told many times before. That would have been a very good movie. Instead, what they gave us was the story of one man solving a problem.

Problem solving is not a subject that most movies will tackle head on. When problems usually occur to characters, the solution is for the character to change in some way previously foreshadowed. It’s the change in characters that’s the source of the drama. Here, though, the character doesn’t change. He’s the same Aaron walking out as walking in. The epilogue of the movie nails this point home, saying Aaron still hikes and loves outdoor activities. The only difference, the movie tells us, is that now Aaron leaves a note. When Aaron first finds himself trapped, he takes stock of all the tools he has, taking special note of his pocket knife. He tests the knife’s sharpness, and it’s clear that he’s thinking, even at the very beginning, that he might have to cut his arm off. That’s not his first attempt. He calls for help. He attempts to move the rock, fashioning a very clever pulley system. He attempts chipping the rock away. Indeed, as his situation gets more dire, he fashions a tourniquet, tries sawing at his arm only to be stopped by it’s dullness, tries stabbing only to be stopped by the bone. Finally it’s panic that really pushes him over the edge. He breaks his arm by leveraging his body weight against the rock that trapped him, then worked, for minute after agonizing minute, hacking at each layer of muscle and tissue, till he finally free himself. Before this he rations out his minuscule food and water. He figures for how long he would have to survive before rescue is even possible. He entertains himself. At the worst of times he badly hallucinates and falls into deep despair.

Now, what amazed me is how many times I have run into similar but infinitely less severe situations. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance has a great deal of good information on what the problem solving process looks like. There are so many examples in my own day to day life. A stripped screw, a flat tire, a difficult to assemble piece of furniture. Anything, where your goal is relatively small and straightforward, but an unexpected delay causes you to nearly fail in the entire attempt. My favorite example is from when not long after I got my license, and I had to drive into New York City to pick up my parents from the airport. An easy job. I got directions, checked traffic, left myself plenty of time to get there. This is the pre-GPS days. Then I managed to get thoroughly lost. Now what? Ask for directions? From who? Check my map? What map? I have one that’s about 30 years old. All I can do is come up with hypotheses, and test them. Try this road, try heading north, keep an eye on street signs. Ask at gas stations. Finally I found the airport through a combination of luck, effort, and a lot of failed tries.

Every part of Aaron’s journey was familiar. The initial hubris. The disbelief at something so small stopping you so completely. The taking stock of supplies. The despair at the fact that the only reason you’re in this situation is your own actions. The attempts, each getting more desperate, at getting passed it. The final attempt that either gets you passed this problem, or stops you entirely.

After Aaron self-amputated, he still had to hike the narrow slot canyon, rappel down a rock wall, and hike several miles in the blazing desert sun. And he knew that, and planned for it, even after the incredible pain and blood loss he endured. He understood that solving a single problem didn’t mean he was done. There was still his initial goal, and it had to be completed, even though now it meant an unbelievably more difficult and dangerous trip. After I found the airport, I still needed to park, find my parents, then negotiate rush hour traffic to get back home. Was my situation less severe than Aaron’s? Absolutely. But the techniques to get passed it were essentially identical.

I’m not aware of any other films that focussed so completely on solving a single problem. Character falls away. Story, plot, rising action, climax, and all the other elements of successful storytelling are present, but they all are pushed aside to focus on one man, getting passed one obstacle.  The tag lines for the movie went something like, “How far would you go to survive?” They could just as easily been, “How do you solve problems?”