In its brief run time of an hour and 40 minutes, Trance includes a heist to steal a priceless piece of art, a love story, a revenge story, double crosses, a triple cross, amnesia, the power of the mind and a pretty shameless plug for a British carmaker.
There are some terrific “There’s something in the sack!” or “What’s that climbing down the wall?” moments, and Danny Boyle really knows how to deploy a flash of lightning. Steering clear of too much mad-scientist “It livessss!” stuff allows him to direct this part of the show with the kind of punch which movie-goers will remember from his film Shallow Grave.
We like our romcoms quirky. None of this, please. Romantic comedy in the last few decades is (I’m a little ashamed to say) not my thing. I can’t handle the Bullock, Aniston, Heigl, Garner, and Hudson characters: “Oops, silly me, I just fell down a flight of stairs and embarrassed […]
It’s these moments that comprise the film’s greater theme, that in his final (127) hours even the most confident loner regrets the people he leaves behind. Not calling his mother back is more than a guilt trip, it’s a genuine tragedy, and the fact that this lack of communication will prevent anybody from ever even finding his body is just the punchline to one of life’s most malicious jokes.