Are you suddenly finding yourself randomly irked and annoyed by James Franco, or am I the only one dumbfounded by the shameful feeling of not “getting” Spring Breakers? Oh, you too? Let’s join hands and vent in unison.
No one can deny that Franco, in his 35 years, has had an impressive career. Since his big break as greasy stoner (the person we all believe him to be in real life) Daniel Desario on Judd Apatow’s comedy goldmine (and NBC’s nightmare) Freaks and Geeks at age 21, he’s kissed Sean Penn, done the five knuckle shuffle while bleeding on a canyon wall, entangled naked Disney stars in his cornrow web of pimped-out lies and terrorized both Spider-Man and the wicked witches of Oz. His greatest triumph of all might be still managing to get work after bombing harder than a grandpa at Okinawa at the 2011 Oscars.
That’s not all. James – who doesn’t seem to have much going on in the motor skills department – often teaches filmmaking classes in both California and New York and still finds the time to write blog posts for the Huffington Post. In a recent post, he copies and pastes a poem he’s written.
The actor that fucks a goat in my film
Was home-schooled because his parents didn’t
Want him to be subjected to drugs, guns and violence.
“And blacks,” I think.
Indian River, the school is called.
Tyrone is his name, a handsome, dumb-faced kid.
There were baby goats; they ran around their pen on stiff, stumpy legs.
James Franco wants us to think he’s a lot smarter than he is. James Franco thinks he’s a lot smarter than James Franco, but James Franco isn’t a secret genius, he’s like every other actor and actress. He needs the fame and the spotlight, but he resents needing it and therefore resents himself, and instead of just taking up golf or buying a motorcycle, he writes goat-fucking poems. I want to reach out and pet him and say, “It’s okay, James. You’re not the only one suffering.”
We’re all attention whores at heart, but how we react to certain opportunities is the truest measure of the ugly, whorish side most of us possess. Opportunities like underage girls, almost exposing your penis on Instagram, and Eat Pray Love.
In the age of social media, online bullying, and Rebecca Black, James Franco isn’t so bad, he’s just painfully average, and obnoxiously seems more interested in looking like an uncle who tries too hard to be your friend than having his Bradley Cooper in Silver Linings moment.
He’s grasping for an identity as one of the countless men in Hollywood who got tired of just being attractive. The problem is, he’s not THAT attractive (I think we’d all rather have Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp ravage us in a hay bale) or THAT talented (have you ever found yourself thinking “Wow, he’s an amazing actor”?), and there’s something off about him. Something lotion-in-the-basket creepy, but not quite as creepy as someone who would rather read about celebrity gossip than kidnapped Nigerian girls. (Talking to you, audience.)
Like Spring Breakers, I don’t understand the appeal. We could have been so good together but any loving feelings I had are now a careless whisper and we are never ever ever gonna dance like we did when you were James Dean in a made-for-TV movie.