James Franco TV - Funny Or Die

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Palo Alto is the debut of a surprising and powerful new literary voice. Written with an immediate sense of place--claustrophobic and ominous--James Franco's collection traces the lives of an extended group of teenagers as they experiment with vices of all kinds, struggle with their families and one another, and succumb to self-destructive, often heartless nihilism.

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James Franco is exhausted. He got up at six this morning to catch a train from New York to Connec­ticut to attend a class at Yale, where he is studying for a PhD in English. Class over, he filmed a cameo appearance in a short student film, then got back on the train to New York for a meeting with one of his professors at NYU, where he is also enrolled, and squeezed in a visit to the doctor’s before jumping in a cab to the James Hotel in SoHo, where Interview magazine is throwing a party in celebration of his first collection of short stories, Palo Alto. That’s after he has sat down for an interview with me. Phew.

‘He finds it a little difficult to understand that it’s just a party,’ his assistant, Dana Morgan, tells me as she pours a Diet Coke from the minibar. A former classmate of Franco’s at UCLA, Morgan manages his minute-to-minute existence: she makes sure he wakes up, gets dressed and eats, puts him on the right train, tells him what’s waiting for him at the other end. ‘He always wants to know, “What’s it for?” It’s not for anything. It’s just a party for your book.’

The door opens and in walks Franco, wearing a grey check shirt, jeans and beaten-up trainers. He shakes my hand then drops to the couch, limbs in all directions, and stares at me, glassy-eyed. Busy day? I ask.

‘All my days are busy,’ he replies. ‘Is this for 127 Hours?’

He is referring to the new Danny Boyle film in which he stars, although he is also appearing in Howl, playing the beat poet Allen Ginsberg.

Yes. But we could also talk about Howl. Or your book of short stories…

He nods, as if only half hearing what I’m saying. There is a weird atmosphere in the room. At first I put it down to Franco’s tiredness. He answers my questions at length but a little abstractedly, all the while maintaining almost hypnotic levels of eye contact, tilting his head back until he is staring at me down the chiselled planes of his face. I half expect a maniacal laugh to escape his lips, as it did when he played the Green Goblin in Spider-Man 3.

‘…the video diaries [in 127 Hours] were set up in a way that in diegetic terms he’s addressing his family,’ he is saying, ‘so it’s almost like a first-person experience, but without breaking the fourth wall…’

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