James Franco, ugh.

james-franco I don’t know what you think about James Franco, but if it’s anything like what some of my friends and I think, it ain’t good.  I don’t know what it is about the man, honestly.  He’s just a guy making movies, starring in movies, producing movies, pursuing I don’t even know HOW many degrees.  What’s so bad about James Franco?  Aside from the fact that he co-opted one of my favorite Faulkner novels and turned it into a really strange (I’m not saying “bad,” necessarily, but strange) film, I don’t really know.  He just gets on my nerves.  And he needs a bath.  There, I said it.  We can move on now.

Franco bias aside, what he’s doing next is pretty darn exciting (and that is more than a little annoying).  He’s developing a series of crime movies from the novels of my good friend and former professor Tom Franklin.  If you haven’t read Franklin’s southern crime stories and novels, you’re seriously missing out.  Like, really.  Click on out of here and go order them on Amazon Prime right now.

So, fine, Franco.  I’ll hold back my palpable irritation for now.  But you better not mess this one up.

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