At the age of 32, actor James Franco has already had quite a career. After starting out on the television series Freaks and Geeks—canceled despite overwhelming acclaim from critics—he went on to win a Golden Globe for his surprisingly rich portrayal of James Dean in director Mark Rydell’s TV biography. A year later he appeared in the first film of the renewed Spider-Man franchise, playing opposite Tobey Maguire. Two more followed, and had he wanted, Franco could have ridden his matinee-idol good looks into a comfortable early retirement.
Instead, that commercial breakthrough kicked off the most interesting stretch of the actor’s career: he appeared in Milk as the conflicted lover of Sean Penn’s title character; he was a pot dealer and devoted grandson in Pineapple Express; and he popped up here and there as himself in cameos on shows like 30 Rock. Off-screen, he went back to school, enrolling in Columbia’s MFA creative writing program. Perhaps most enjoyable, though, was his year-long stint on the soap opera General Hospital, where he played a dark character named Franco—an artist and serial killer, and possibly (this being the world of soaps) someone’s long-lost son.
It’s easy to chuckle at that last bit, but it is exactly that sort of curveball that makes the actor so refreshing in an age when most of his peers have long since let others define who they are. This week he brings his off-kilter charisma back to the big screen when he appears as the young Allen Ginsberg in Howl, a biographical look at the man who helped birth the Beat Generation. A contemporary and, at first, a follower of Kerouac and his crew, Ginsberg proved in many ways the most mature of the loose band of writers we now think of as “beat.” Certainly his longevity helped—he was still writing and, by extension, reworking his own literary history long after Kerouac was dead.
The film’s title, of course, is also that of Ginsberg’s most enduring work, an epic poem that, decades later, still provokes passionate debate. In Rob Epstein’s and Jeffrey Friedman’s film—the co-directors will be at Amherst Cinema Saturday night to talk about their work—we see how the poet’s life inevitably led not only to his masterpiece, but also to the fallout from its publication: a trial on an obscenity charge. David Strathairn and Jon Hamm (Mad Men) face off as opposing lawyers, and a string of guest stars appear as witnesses in a trial that helped define a new generation.
A film about our current generation comes to Northampton on Thursday when Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead plays at the Academy of Music. A chronicle of filmmaker Joe Cross’ struggle with obesity, the film follows him on a two-month road trip designed to help him regain his health. One hundred pounds overweight at the start, he vows to drink only fresh fruit and vegetable juice for the duration, even bringing his own juicer and generator in tow. Along the way, Cross stops to talk to more than 500 Americans about their health and eating habits. During one of those pit stops, he meets Phil Staples, a 429-pound truck driver who suffers from the same rare condition as Cross—and who, inspired by the meeting, decides to change his own life for the better.
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Also this week: With all the rain recently, I’ve been reminded of some wonderful days from childhood spent cooped up and watching cartoons. The Eric Carle Museum in Amherst give locals a wonderful chance to while away the day with its afternoon film series, which runs Tuesday-Friday most weeks, with some occasional weekend screenings as well. Fans of William Steig (Shrek) are especially lucky—the Carle was bequeathed a large Steig collection after the cartoonist’s death. This week the hour-long program features Doctor De Soto, The Amazing Bone, and other short films, along with a short filmed interview with the man who created them all.
Jack Brown can be reached at cinemadope@gmail.com.
