This week, I found out that James Franco is rumored to be taking on a starring role in a Broadway production of Tennessee Williams’ “Sweet Bird of Youth” as one of his ever-accumulating projects.
It was, at this point, that I was finally willing to admit that James Franco is a little bit ridiculous.
Franco has put himself all across the map. He has taken a crack at four — wait, five — different graduate programs at esteemed universities, made a directorial debut, was the host of the Oscars and nominations, published a book, opened an art exhibit, appeared on a soap opera and now, tried to star in a Broadway production to be placed carefully on top of his already teetering tower of small enterprises.
Franco’s hyperproductivity has grown a little wearisome for me, as the man has seemed to take over so many mediums in the arts that the only thing left for him to do is start a record label and produce a video game (starring himself, of course).
In the past few conversations I’ve had about the actor, writer, artist or whatever title you want to give him, the most repeated phrase I’ve heard in people’s opinions is: “I’m so done with him.”
I think a lot of this comes from the evident egoism that comes with his newest project: He’s teaching a course about himself at Columbia College. Putting his self-importance aside, I cannot and will not say that his overexposure is tiresome to me.
I have started reading and actually enjoy his recently published “Palo Alto” and was absolutely amazed by his performance study of Allen Ginsberg in “Howl” despite the movie’s otherwise terrible attributes. So long as he’s trying new things, I will at least try to keep up with him.
In his defense, I see no reason why someone should be condemned for being multi-faceted. I think that any aversion I have against Franco comes from simple jealousy of his inhuman ability to do so much at once. Of course, the guy has resources to do so where many others do not, but how often have we thought to ourselves, “there’s just so much I want to do”?
In college, more than 50 percent of students change their majors at some point or other. We try so hard to take on everything we love and sometimes we’re proven successful — other times not. James Franco is an amplified illustration of this pattern.
Where many of us may not be planning to produce a small play or publish a short story in a magazine, I see no reason why we can’t take this celebrity as an example and see him as nothing more than an enthusiastic college student with a whole lot of extracurriculars.
While pursuing college degrees, there’s little harm in trying to make like James and bite off more than we can chew. In episodes of trial and error, discovering our interests and laying down career paths, we have the benefit of not having to worry about getting our picture broadcasted on the Internet when we fall asleep in class.
E-mail: ftirado@indiana.edu
Online only: The James Franco anomaly
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