Next time you get home exhausted after a tough day working in the factory, bitching at your partner about lasagne for dinner again and complaining about your stupid neighbours, think about James Franco. A few years back James decided he wanted to go back to school. So he enrolled in four post grad classes. He wrote a novel for his literature class thesis. He went to NYU to study Filmmaking; Fiction Writing and Poetry at two other colleges. Next up a PHD in English and another post grad degree at Rhode Island School of Design. He also found time to star in Sean Penn’s well-received Harvey Milk biog Milk and about six other films yet to be released. And then there’s his bizarre meta-turn on the hoary daytime soap General Hospital as Franco – a photographer/artist/serial killer. Quite what one of the most in-demand actors around is doing on a daytime Prozac TV is anyone’s guess, probably just what James Franco wants.
Why is this relevant? Because James Franco is the single best thing about Date Night and he’s only on the screen for about five minutes. His scene with Mila Kunis as the mistaken Tripplehorn couple displays all the manic, eccentric and wanton stupidity that Tina Fey and Steve Carrell fail to achieve during the remaining 85 minutes. It’s not their fault – the script is undercooked and plodding which is slight issue for a period drama, but fatal for a supposed screwball comedy. Phil and Claire Foster are drab suburbia personified – a tax lawyer and real estate agent with two kids who find themselves mistaken for the aforementioned Tripplehorns, and in possession of a flash drive. Except they’re not, on both counts. This in turn sets off a chain of wacky scenes, each crazier than the previous. Except they’re not, on any counts. Throw some crooked cops into the mix and you have one of the biggest disappointments of the year.
So, in conclusion: James Franco.