James Franco is Allen Ginsberg. The film is directed by Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman who also wrote the film. Although ‘wrote’ may be misleading since the actual words heard in the film are from the poem Howl itself, and from the transcription of the obscenity trial the poem’s candid lexicon caused. The publisher who picked up Howl was facing real time behind bars for publishing what some considered obscenity. Also, vast portions come from an extremely long interview Ginsberg gave after the fame of his poetry became apparent.

Having only read the poem once, long ago, I didn’t quite know what to expect. Although the verbal imagery I remember prepared me for lots of thinly veiled euphemisms about homosexual sexual practices. But the words that I heard this time took on a new meaning; they’re exciting when they’re heard out loud. So much so, that those actors playing characters in the film that are for the censorship of Ginsberg come across as laughable and ignornant. These poor characters are played by the likes of Mary-Louise Parker and David Strathairn. Though it is only passing time that has exposed their close-mindedness; it is not a reflection of the script, or the acting itself.

It’s fun listening to Ginsberg’s own words, explaining how Howl resulted out of his experiences and relationships (like a sexually-charged bond with Jack Kerouac). Because so many of the names mentioned have become iconic American figures, it mildly reminded me of reading A Moveable Feast, recounting the tales of other famous, talented people mingling with the likes. And it’s great. It’s a solid film that’s informative and compelling. The film’s one major misstep is cutting away to a series of cartoon sequences. The sequences are contributed by the graphic artist Eric Drooker. And although they may exhibit some merit own their own, they cheapen the poem, and the film itself. At one point, a forest of erect penises appear and erupt in fireworks display of white sparks. It’s the literal interpretation of the prose, and it shouldn’t have been done. That’s why poetry has it’s own place in the art world. It portrays something that can’t otherwise be captured.

Nevertheless, these weakness can be forgiven, and watching Franco as Ginsberg is a delight. Hearing is words is even more pleasurable. And the result is immeasurably greater than the sum of its parts.

3.5 out of 5 stars

The tale of An American Crime is based on a true story, and it’s really one of the most disturbing crimes in American history.  If you don’t know about Gertrude Baniszewski and what she did to Sylvia Likens, read it here on wikipedia.  It will blow your mind.  Because I was aware of the backstory, I desperately wanted to see this at the 2007 festival.  Showing conflicts made this impossible, but it’s finally out on DVD.  Catherine Keener headlines as Baniszewski, Ellen Page plays Silvia, James Franco play Baniszewski uber-loser of a boyfriend, and there are a few other respected actors (like Bradley Whitford) that sprinkle cameos here and there.

Basically, Baniszewski accepts two teenage girls as borders in her home that she shares with her six biological children.  She’s ill (it’s not made clear with malady), there’s no man supporting the family, and she may have a small prescription drug problem (mind you this all takes place in Indiana in the sixties).  Sylvia and her sister are left with Baniszewski for twenty dollars a week, while her parents tour with a carnival (I’m not kidding).  Seeking an outlet for the bitterness cause by the steaming pile that life has served her, Baniszewski starts abusing Sylvia: beating her with belts, rounding up neighborhood children to sear words in her body with a hot needle like ‘I’m a prostitute and proud of it.’  The horrors piled on Sylvia are unending, and unbearable.

The story itself, is as dark and brooding as real life allows.  It’s like Hostel, but this actually happened.  The problem is, O’Haver butchered it like Bush butchered our economy.  Central acts that should have been the most powerful, lacked any sort of intensity.  First class performances by Page and Keener (who have both yet to let me down in a film) couldn’t save this middle-of-the-road waste of time.  The script chose to gloss over the bitter truth of the story in lieu of unreliable, first-person narrated fantasies, unending shots of Keener crying on a couch, and a whole lot of other boring elements that makes this film not even worth a rental.  The end was so cushioned against the terror and dread of the real story, that you actually don’t really care what happens to Sylvia.  It’s an American crime to watch this film.

1 out of 4 stars

Milk follows the true life story of Harvey Milk (Sean Penn), the first openly gay man to be elected to major public office.  It follows him from his days at an insurance company in New York where he meets the love of his life Scott (an perfectly even, warm and funny performance by James Franco).  The two move to San Francisco, seeking a sort of asylum among other semi-closeted gays during a time when you could legally be fired, or kicked out of your apartment for being a homosexual.  The film then focuses on his heroic campaign efforts finally resulting in a win, when Milk is elected as one of San Francisco’s City Supervisors.

This is the best ensemble cast of the year, without a doubt.  Emile Hirsh, Josh Brolin (who plays the slightly homophobic fellow Supervisor Dan White), Diego Luna, Alison Pill, they all play their roles pitch perfectly.  Penn is endearing and inspiring in his portrayal of this fallen American hero.  The script deserves special recognition as well, penned by Dustin Lance Black (Big Love), as it brings a sense of realism often glossed over in political dramas.

The most credit however, goes to Van Sant who handled this piece remarkably well.  If the Academy doesn’t throw him a bone with a nomination nod, I’m going to do something drastic.  I didn’t want the movie to end, it was that good.  A film celebrating this American hero and the fight for civil rights which he led, comes at a painfully relevant time, and perhaps it’ll bring a little more attention and humanity to the current unstable political atmosphere surround gay issues (get your shit together California).  This is Van Sant’s best film to date, and without a doubt, one of the years best ten.

4 out of 4 stars

Rottentomatoes: 93% – Cream of the Crop: 91%

When I saw Brittany Murphy listed, my mind made an inaudible, ‘Ahhhh’ (Ahhhh in the bad, disappointed way, not like the Ahhhh you make when you see puppies).  But then I continued to read: Toni Collette, Giovanni Ribisi (okay, he’s questionable), Rose Byrne, James Franco (who only won me over last week with his performance in Pineapple Express), Josh Brolin, Marcia Gay Harden, and several others. Then I asked ChaCha what it got on RottenTomatoes and was pleasantly surprised to find out it received 74%. This resulted in a renting.  An ensemble cast like that had to at least be interesting.

The film is made up of several vignettes with simplistic titles like ‘The Stranger,’ ‘The Mother,’ ‘The Dead Girl.’  Each vignette varies greatly in interest (often connected to the acting talent of the main players), although all are disturbing in there own way.  In the same vein as Robert Altman’s Short Cuts and P.T. Anderson’s Magnolia, each seemingly unrelated story ends up being related, in some way or another, to the discovery of the body of a dead girl.  I definitely can’t say that all parts of the film are worth watching, but some definitely are (particularly the section with Rose Byrne).

Writer/director Karen Moncrieff doesn’t have much experience writing or directing (to date, she’s stuck mostly with TV, including directing an episode of Six Feet Under). But still there’s something to her direction, the film definitely has some shining moments.  The Dead Girl failed to achieve it’s lofty ambitions (I’m pretty sure the limited release on December 29th meant she had award season dreams), but deserves respect for it’s attempt at originality.

2.5 out of 4 stars

Rottentomatoes: 74% – Cream of the Crop: 63%

Rated R for language, grisly images and sexuality/nudity.