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Watch James Franco Watch Gay Sex (Video)
It’s finally coming. After what seems to be the longest edging session in the history of waiting for James Franco, he is finally going to release what we have all been waiting for. This weekend “Interior. Leather Bar.” – his short film about making a short film about cruising – will finally screen at Sundance.
Since I can’t be there in person, I am trying desperately to watch James Franco’s face watching gay sex but my Internet connection keeps cutting out.
He looks perplexed. Screen freezes. There is a slap and he contemplates the slap. Screen freezes. I begin to feel as if I am watching my face watching James Franco’s face watching gay sex because watching James Franco increasingly feels like watching a more public and successful (and tired) version of myself.
I have an MFA; James Franco has or is in the process of having three MFAs and two PhDs. I have written some poetry, none of which has ever been published; James Franco is Allen Ginsberg. I attempt to make some type of positive impact in/for the queer community; James Franco is Scott Smith.
Creative writers seem to hate James Franco with the same venom that they typically reserve for trust fund babies. He has published in Esquire and McSweeney’s and it was so easy! Creative writers love writing creative writing about creative writers and James Franco who may or may not be a “real” creative writer.
In a chapbook titled “I Hate You James Franco,” Kristy Bowen writes: “I am waiting to write the poem that guts you, James Franco.” Of course, given Franco’s current projects, he may very well be turned on by the idea of being gutted, thereby neutering any attempt made to harm him.
Perhaps the best thing to come out of Franco’s five degrees is an appreciation for the meta. Even the title of Franco’s upcoming film reeks of delightful artifice. (TWO periods crammed into ONE film title! It’s nearly a gay pun in and of itself! The layers!)
We see the fog machine. We see men looking around, listening to directions on how to appear to be “looking.” We see a “wardrobe” assistant spray a man’s chest with a squirt bottle. This film is letting its seams show—and there seem to be as many seams in this film as there are cute little wrinkle lines around Franco’s (very tired) eyes.
“Is this something that we, as the artists working on it, are going to manipulate to make a certain point or do you just want it to be what is?” asks the trailer.
Great question. Do we want this film to be avant-garde? Do we want this film to be “good”? Or do we want this film to be James Franco splayed on the screen in his attempt to make an avant-garde film that results in us simply watching James Franco watch a lot of gay sex scenes?
