127 Hours

EXT. CROWD SCENES. VARIOUS.

A massive crowd, it could be a sports stadium, a u2 farewell

show or new year's eve on copacabana beach, but whatever it

is there are thousands and thousands of us. A mexican wave

erupts success, celebration, with so many involved it's

impossible to pick out anyone individually. Critical mass

cyclists, easter crowds at st. Peter's basilica, nyc

marathon, 4,000 flash mobbers doing the silent disco at

london's victoria station, india's kumbh mela, macy's

thanksgiving day parade, raves, subway parties, the daytona

500. . . . Gradually the screen splits into 2, and then 3,

though at times there appears to be no division at all.

EXT. FREEWAY. NIGHT.

An overhead shot of a crammed freeway gives way to a single

vehicle, a 98 Toyota Tacoma, red and white with a topper.

CUT TO:

INT. ARON'S TRUCK. NIGHT.

Cut inside as Aron Ralston, 27 cuts off the freeway.

TRIPTYCH.

OPENING TITLES ARE A SERIES OF TRIPTYCHS FEATURING ALL THE

TITLE CARDS EXCEPT THE MAIN ONE. THEY BLEND, OVERLAP AND ARE

INTERCUT WITH ADVERTS SOME FROM THE BILLBOARDS ARON'S VAN

PASSES, SOME FROM TELEVISION AND SOME FROM THE RADIO. AND,

OF COURSE, ALL THESE INTERCUT WITH ARON AND HIS TRUCK. AND

THE LANDSCAPE.

A TITLE CARD READS:

'Utah. The Canyonlands. The slickrock desert. The red dust

and the burnt cliffs and the lonely sky-all that which lies

beyond the end of the roads.'

Edward Abbey. Desert Solitaire.

CUT TO:

EXT. ROAD. NIGHT.

Eventually Aron's truck is now alone on an interstate road.

2.

INT. ARON'S TRUCK. NIGHT.

At the southwest edge of Green River, Aron Ralston drives

under the interstate into a landscape of obscurity. He looks

to his right and left, not a single light perforates the

absolute blackness of the San Rafael Desert.

CUT TO:

EXT. ARON'S TRUCK. NIGHT.

From high above, three quarters of the screen is black and we

see his truck's lights running parallel with the blackness.

CUT TO:

INT. ARON'S TRUCK. NIGHT.

A sign flashes by: Next Service: 110 miles

America's challengers for the Tour de France flash by in a

pack of 15 or so neon spirits. Night training.

10PM.

A BLM sign indicates that Horseshoe Canyon Trailhead is 47

miles ahead through the desert darkness.

CUT TO:

EXT:
. ARON'S TRUCK. NIGHT.

From even higher above again we see him turn left into this

black void.

CUT TO:

INT. ARON'S TRUCK. NIGHT.

Bang inside the truck now on a dirt road. Music at ear bleed

level.

A yellow triangular sign cautioning ROADS MAY BE IMPASSABLE

DUE TO STORMS flashes past.

CUT TO:

INT/EXT. ARON'S TRUCK. NIGHT.

Jackrabbits dart onto the road, racing him, darting left and

right as he chases them down. They finish the game darting

back into the darkness.

CUT TO:

EXT. DESERT. DAY.

3.

Slowly, images from the Great Gallery materialise on

different parts of the Triptych - petroglyphs and

pictographs; dozens of 8-10 ft high Superhumans hovering over

groups of indistinct animals, dominating beasts and onlookers

alike with their long, dark bodies, broad shoulders, and

haunting eyes.

CUT TO:

EXT/INT. VARIOUS. COMMERCIALS FOOTAGE.

Billboards, TV, cinema, www: commercial America sells

everything to us through every means. As many brand names as

we can get.

CUT TO:

EXT. DESERT. NIGHT.

Rushing across the desert grooves, pulling, snatching, hard

left and right, the rear of the truck fishtails madly.

Curves, swoops and sandy washes kick up dust clouds as

everything in the truck flies all over the place. Except his

bike, locked down and braced solid.

Music blazes on.

Another Rabbit. Another fence line. Another curve.

CUT TO:

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes