So, I have a confession to make.

About two years ago, my friend and I became obsessed with James Franco.  How could you not, right?  He’s got a PhD, about 17 Masters (give or take), he was nominated for an Oscar, and he’s so attractive he can pull off the ‘stoner with long, greasy hair look’.  Considering it’s not the 90s, that’s saying a lot.

Anyway.  So this friend ended up buying us matching t-shirts with his face on it.  Glorious, I know.  And granted, I never actually wore it in public, because it may have caused teenage girls to lose their shit and attack me, after being confused by the sensory information (am I James Franco?  But that’s his face!).  That, and let’s be honest, it’s pretty embarrassing to have a t-shirt with a celebrity’s face on it.  Kinda like those people who were still wearing Team Edward t-shirts when the last Twilight movie came out.  Awks.

So during this, somewhat dark, period of my life, I tried to get as much Franco as I could.  I watched old Franco and new Franco: Whatever It Takes, Never Been Kissed (yes, he has a cameo appearance in it.  And yes, I was so enthralled I focused on him over Michael Varton.  Now do you understand the extent of this issue?), Pineapple Express.  I watched Rise of the Planet of the Apes, which wasn’t as awful as it sounds.

I even watched Howl.  And then pretended I was into Beat poetry and that I actually cared who Allen Ginsberg was.  For the record, I don’t care about Allen Ginsberg.  And I didn’t then.

However, I did draw the line at 127 hours, because regardless of the actor, I’m not going to watch some guy hack off his own arm.  Ew.

And then I found myself in a pickle.  Because ol’ Franco was off getting his 48th Bachelor’s degree, or teaching a film subject at NYU or something and he wasn’t releasing any movies.  So I was forced to hunt through the Franco archives.  It wasn’t pretty.

Oh, sure, Freaks and Geeks is fantastic, but aside from that, there was a reason he wasn’t famous until Spiderman.  James Dean?  Probably the top 15 worst movies ever.

And then, I actually went out and bought his book, Palo Alto.  And as much as I tried to tell myself it was good, it wasn’t.  His writing was subconscious, superficial and ‘pretend-hipster’ (a term I just made up then, but if you’re from Melbourne I think you know what I’m talking about).  It was teenager angst on a new level, but without the class or the writing ability of Salinger or even Perks of a Wallflower.

So, slowly, I became to realise that Franco was a bit of a douche.  Actually, a lot of a douche.  He played a fictionalised version of himself, Franco, on General Hospital.

Douche.

And then again, in In The End.

Douche.

And he’s been known to create ‘non-visual art’ which is basically art that doesn’t exist, but is described in detail on a sheet on paper and the person has to envision the art themselves.  Personally, I would pay ‘non-visual money’ for this, but it sells for thousands and thousands of dollars.

Douche.

He butchered The Great and Powerful Oz, and then he based his next character off K-Fed.  Which is not only horribly out-dated, but also…

Douche.

In saying all this though, he has a new movie coming out, based on the previously mentioned book, Palo Alto.  Granted, he’s playing a sleazy teacher who hits on Emma Roberts, which hits a little too close to home since he recently chatted up a 17 year old on Instagram (and not even in a nice way.  He was all ‘I’ll get a hotel room’.  Bleurgh.  Take her out for a drink first, Franco.).  But I still want to see it anyway.  Because it actually looks better than the book (thank goodness), but also because Emma Roberts looks like she is playing a role that involves actual acting and nuance on her end.  So hooray.

Plus, creepy as it is, her and Franco would have beautiful babies.  And if they got together in real life, hopefully he’d stop hitting on minors.

Check out the review here.  Oh and let me know if you have had any embarrassing celebrity crushes.

PS I ended up ‘losing’ the Franco shirt.  Not only did it end up discoloured and gross (such an adequate metaphor), but it probably would have creeped out Paul when I wore it to bed.

 

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