Description: Mortal Kombat Karnage Fight a few AI opponents on different difficulty settings. Rip out spines for fatalities. Unblocked Proxy | kickassunblock | cookies unblocked | unblocked movies | unblocked music sites | ABCya 3 | ABCya 5

Get ready for Francophrenia! When movie star James Franco returns to General Hospital, his character — serial killer and performance artist Franco — will stage an epic exhibition at L.A.'s Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) as part of his ongoing man-crush on mobster Jason Morgan (Steve Burton). The ABC soap will shoot Franco's grand opening on location at the real MOCA and is currently seeking some 200 GH fans to show up and witness the event. (For details, click here.)

"The name of his new exhibit is 'Francophrenia: Dissolving the Boundary Between Illusion and Reality' — as, yes, that's Francophrenia as in schizophrenia," says GH head writer Bob Guza. "Franco will create this elaborate dog and pony show for Jason, and Jason's non-reaction to it will make Franco pull the ultimate trigger."

No, Guza doesn't mean that literally. Jason feels guilty that his young ward, Michael (Chad Duell), had to spend time in the slammer and was possibly raped there by one of Franco's goons. "Franco will rub Jason's nose in that — and it's like waving a red flag in front of a bull 10 times over," says the scribe. "If Jason has a moment alone with Franco, he's going to get him — and Franco's counting on that. In fact, he's going to make a performance piece out of it."

Call it a case of art imitating...well, art. Franco (the actor) is also working with MOCA and has been shooting a video documentary about his experience on GH that will screen at the museum later this summer. (In a recent Los Angeles Times article, MOCA director Jeffrey Deitch called the Franco-GH connection "the ultimate extension of Andy Warhol guest-starring in The Love Boat.") The actor's posse of videographers — who seem to trail him everywhere these days — will play versions of themselves on GH. And the star's own mother, author Betsy Franco, will appear as Franco's mother, Karen Anderson, in scenes airing July 2.

When the Franco character hits the air June 30, he'll be seen in Port Charles disguised as a homeless man. "He will set a trail of breadcrumbs for L.A. that will also lure Dante [Dominic Zamprogna] and Lulu [Julie Berman]," says Guza. "But he's pretty much involved with everybody. The extent of his reach will surprise you." And how. When GH fan favorite Vanessa Marcil makes her eagerly awaited return as Brenda on August 11, we'll find out even she has a connection to Franco!

James Franco, in full James Edward Franco (born April 19, 1978, Palo Alto, California, U.S.), American actor whose rakish charm and chiseled good looks augmented an ability to bring sincerity and gravitas to characters ranging from addled drug dealers to comic book villains.

The eldest of three children, Franco was raised in Palo Alto, California, by his mother, a children’s book author, and his father, a businessman. A strong student, Franco nonetheless dropped out of the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), after his first year in order to pursue acting. While taking classes at Playhouse West in Los Angeles, he secured a series of roles in unremarkable television movies and forgettable teen fare. His casting as a cocky high-school slacker in the Judd Apatow-produced television series Freaks and Geeks (1999–2000)—later a cult favourite—brought him to wider attention.

It was, however, his performance as James Dean in the eponymous television movie (2001) that established him as a major talent. Franco’s evocation of that silver-screen idol won him a Golden Globe Award for best actor in a miniseries or television movie. As Harry Osborn, best friend to Peter Parker in Spider-Man (2002), a film adaptation of the comic book, Franco proved himself adept at shaping his talents to the broad sensibilities of the genre. He returned for two further installments of the franchise, Spider-Man 2 (2004) and Spider-Man 3 (2007). Films including the crime drama City by the Sea (2002), the mythological retelling Tristan + Isolde (2006), and the World War I fighter-pilot drama Flyboys (2006), though poorly received, showcased Franco’s versatility.

While working his role as a jocular marijuana dealer for laughs in Pineapple Express (2008)—a stoner comedy costarring fellow Freaks and Geeks alumnus Seth Rogen, who collaborated on the screenplay with Apatow—Franco simultaneously evoked the character’s loneliness and disaffection. He won further praise as a lover of gay rights activist Harvey Milk (played by Sean Penn) in Milk (2008) and as Allen Ginsberg in Howl (2010). His performance as a man forced to cut off his own arm after a climbing accident in 127 Hours (2010) earned Franco his first Academy Award nomination for best actor.

In 2011 Franco and actress Anne Hathaway cohosted the Oscar ceremony. Later that year he appeared in Your Highness, a bawdy comedy set in the Middle Ages, and in the big-budget science-fiction film Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Franco subsequently starred as the title character in Oz the Great and Powerful (2013), which imagined a backstory for the enigmatic wizard of popular literature and film. For Spring Breakers (2013), a portrait of youthful debauchery on the Florida coast, he transformed into a garishly styled drug dealer and rapper. He also appeared as an exaggerated version of himself in This Is the End (2013), an apocalyptic comedy codirected by Rogen. In Lovelace (2013), a biopic about pornographic film actress Linda Lovelace, Franco portrayed Hugh Hefner. He evinced a meth-dealing Southerner in the action film Homefront (2013) and a man battling his ex-wife for custody of their son in the drama Third Person (2013).

In the irreverent The Interview, also codirected by and costarring Rogen, Franco played a talk-show host who is tasked with assassinating North Korean leader Kim Jong-Eun. The film, slated for release in December 2014, was pulled by its distributor, Sony Pictures Entertainment Inc., in the wake of a hack of the company’s computer system in November and terrorist threats later made by the hackers, who were thought to be acting on orders from North Korea. It was ultimately released on Christmas at a small number of independent theatres as well as on cable television and online streaming video platforms. The following year Franco portrayed convicted murderer Christian Longo in True Story. The film was based on a memoir by former New York Times reporter Michael Finkel (Jonah Hill), who formed a strange bond with Longo after the killer assumed his identity while attempting to evade arrest. Franco’s character in the miniseries 11.22.63 (2016), an adaptation of a Stephen King novel that appeared on television streaming network Hulu, must travel back in time and attempt to prevent the assassination of U.S. Pres. John F. Kennedy.

Styling himself as a latter-day Renaissance man, Franco was also a visual artist and a painter; he characterized his guest appearance (2009–12) as an artist named Franco on the daytime soap opera General Hospital as performance art. He directed, wrote, and starred in several films, among them The Ape (2005) and the Hart Crane biopic The Broken Tower (2011). He also helmed and appeared in adaptations (2013, 2014) of William Faulkner’s novels As I Lay Dying (1930) and The Sound and the Fury (1929) and an adaptation (2013) of Cormac McCarthy’s novel Child of God (1974).

Franco wrote short fiction, some of which was published in Palo Alto: Stories (2010); he also appeared in a 2013 film adaptation. The novelistic Actors Anonymous (2013) spliced autobiographical episodes with imaginings of the lives of struggling actors in Hollywood. Stories from A California Childhood (2013)—a pastiche of childhood experiences, photographs, artwork, and fictionalized memories—were adapted as the film Yosemite (2015), in which he also appeared. His poetry collection Straight James/Gay James (2016) toys with his sexually ambiguous public persona.

Franco eventually returned to UCLA, graduating with a bachelor’s degree in creative writing (2008), and he pursued a series of further degrees, among them a master’s in writing (2010) from Columbia University and a master’s in film (2011) from New York University.

Game of Thrones

James Franco has big plans, always.

Andrew Medichini/AP 

 

What is James Franco doing?

People started asking this question, in earnest, somewhere around the time he went on General Hospital in 2009. Up until then, he'd been a young actor whose path was relatively normal: he was on Freaks & Geeks, and in Never Been Kissed, and he played James Dean on cable. He was in the Sam Raimi Spider-Man movies, and then into Apatow country. Occasional forays into super-artsy stuff like films that showed in museums? No big deal. Nothing you wouldn't see from, say, Ethan Hawke or somebody like that. Swerves between, say, Pineapple Express and Milk, but that happens. Mork wound up in Good Morning, Vietnam, after all.

But then: General Hospital.

Appearances in mainstream stoner comedies are one thing, when it comes to changing up the highness of your brow and toying with the expectations people have of what you would and wouldn't do. But ... a soap? A real, straight-up soap? The same one Luke and Laura were on? Even knowing that he called the appearance a form of performance art, it continued to raise the question...

What is James Franco doing?

Right now, he's releasing his first alleged novel, Actors Anonymous, but we'll get back to that.
It's not like he needs another line of work. He has a band. He writes short stories. He hosted the Oscars. He was roasted on Comedy Central. He's taken many, many classes — and taught some, too. He makes offbeat art and appears in other people's offbeat art. He's played a hot guy on single-woman network sitcoms (both Tina Fey's and Mindy Kaling's).

At the time of a 2010 profile in New York Magazine, the question Franco predicted would be asked about him — and the writer told him was already being asked — was whether he was spreading himself too thin. But in fact, by doing so much, Franco may have achieved something that's almost impossible: he has no meaningful image other than as himself. There is nothing James Franco could do at this point that would move the needle.

What could he do that would seem out of place? What could he do that you really wouldn't expect? He wouldn't really surprise people if he won an Academy Award. He wouldn't really surprise people if he decided to take a one-day role in a Virgin Airlines video demonstrating seatbelts. He could show up in oil paintings, on a sitcom, as a Jeopardy! contestant, as the announced star of So Fast & Extra Furious 8, or in hard-core pornography, and nobody would really think it was anything other than a further example of Well, That's James Franco For You.

"I might be surprised if somebody else did that, but I can sort of believe it, coming from James Franco," is what a lot of us would say about literally anything he did with his career. Aside from something nefarious, even in his personal life, what could he really do now that would require a comeback, or a rehabilitation tour, or a second chance, or an audit of how audiences feel about him?

At times, he's seemed like the kind of guy who's obsessed with pretending he only touches the avant-garde — a self-styled intellectual who disdains everything that's not from art museums. But he's also perfectly happy to do Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes and Oz The Great And Powerful, two huge moneymaking films that have little connection to short films that wind up in museums. This year, he did This Is The End, a proudly stupid gross-out apocalypse comedy in which he and his friends play themselves.

Blockbusters, both self-consciously respectable and not so much? Fine. Obscurity? Fine. School?
Fine. Art? Fine. Poetry? Fine.

And now he's published that "novel," Actors Anonymous. It's not really a novel; it's really a collection of ... stuff. Loosely — like, "XXXL shirt on XXXS body" loosely — based on the 12 steps of addiction treatment programs, it consists of short stories, snippets of scripts, and what it's hard not to envision as Things James Franco Wrote Down On The Back Of A Receipt One Time About Acting And Being Famous.

Among these snippets, there are flashes of insight — like, "I performed for money, and I performed for free. It's better to perform for money if you hate the director; it's better to perform for free if you love him." But there are also things nobody would pay money to read under normal circumstances — like, "There are some people that are very serious about their acting. But the ones that are too serious are boring and usually end up strangling their own performances." That would probably not make the cut if he said it in an interview; it's not really book material.

The fiction sections are stories about actors, but other themes tie them together: mostly, they are about young men driven nearly mad by some combination of generalized rage and a specific desire to have sex with, and sometimes to dominate and possess, women. They're far too inconsistent to be really satisfying, but they simmer with a sometimes intriguing frustration. Franco loves to intersperse signs that certain stories are autobiographical and that he's appearing in the book as "James Franco" or "The Actor," but there are also tweaked details that are meant to hold the reader at a slight distance and retain some sense of disorientation with regard to truth and fiction.

In other words, it's the James-Franco-iest book he could have written, because there's nothing to wrap yourself around. It's not very good, but it's not unambitious, and it's not lazy. It's about him but it's not, it's revealing but it's not, and in the end, it's interesting but it's not.

It's impossible for a celebrity to have an image that's a true blank canvas; we are far too voracious for that. But Franco has perhaps achieved the next best thing: a canvas onto which he's spilled so much paint in so many patterns that it ceases to look like anything, and anything you could add to it would look like it belonged there. And, of course, if you stare at it long enough, you can see patterns emerge and then recede — a poseur, a poet, something jarringly authentic, something painfully manufactured. Even, if you squint, the Last Honest Man In Hollywood, who puts out a book that demonstrates that like a lot of us, he has a certain number of sharp thoughts and an awful lot of mundane ones.

Lots of actors go high-low — the Steven Soderbergh "one for them, one for me" thing. But this is different; Franco has achieved a lack of definition that's unthinkable for a guy like George Clooney, no matter what combination of art-house movies and blockbusters he might make.

There was a lot of talk after Franco's Comedy Central roast about the number of jokes that focused on the idea that he's gay. If nothing else, you'd expect the people who were there to roast him, like Seth Rogen and Nick Kroll and Andy Samberg, to expect a little more from themselves than gay-panic har-har-ing like it's 1998. Even if they didn't worry that those jokes — 26, by BuzzFeed's count — would be offensive, you'd expect them to worry that after 26, they'd seem tired, as Aziz Ansari eventually pointed out that they were.

But maybe people who would normally know better remained stalled at lame gay jokes because roasts are usually focused on making fun of an image of the roastee that the audience will recognize, and Franco offers up less material in that regard than you might think. Hard to make pseudo-intellectual jokes at the expense of a guy who cheerfully made Your Highness. Hard to make dumb-stoner jokes at the expense of a guy who spends so much time pursuing advanced degrees.

It's really hard to know how much of this is on purpose. If it is — if this splatter-painting on his own image to achieve a certain imageless state is something he planned — it's nearly genius, but rather cynical. If it's accidental, it's almost sweet.

But the result is the same either way. He has a strange kind of freedom that comes from a very successful campaign of obfuscation, not so much about his personal life as about his sensibility. So he floats around, and he does what he wants, and none of it changes anything.

Franco has 13 projects listed on his IMDB page that are (or are rumored to be) somewhere between concept and execution — and those are just acting. There's also directing, writing, cinematography, and an unbilled job as the provider of morning pastries for the cast of NCIS.

That last one is a lie, but for a minute, you believed it.

Port Charles has an Oscar nominee in its midst! Well, sort of.

James Franco, who's up for an Academy Award for his work in 127 Hours, is returning to ABC's daytime drama General Hospital as performance artist Franco.

The actor, who is also hosting the Oscars with Anne Hathaway, will appear the soap on episodes airing Feb. 25 and Feb 28 (at 3 p.m. ET) to "wreak havoc" on the fictional town of Port Charles, according to a release from ABC, and to "make an important phone call to his nemesis Jason Morgan" (played by Steve Burton), who appears in a behind-the-scenes shot with Franco.

Keep up with James Franco in the pages of PEOPLE Magazine by subscribing now.

Following a two-month stint on General Hospital in 2009, Franco reprised his role as the mysterious and dangerous artist in the summer of 2010.

"Working on General Hospital was a great experience," he told PEOPLE at the time. "I love the cast, writers, directors and producers. They have become a new family for me."

At one point in the instant cult classic Spring Breakers (in limited release March 15), one of the film’s girls gone mega-wild poses a question to their rapper-gangster quasi-chaperone, played by James Franco: Is he being serious? James Franco, festooned with cornrows and teardrop tattoo, answers with another question: “What do you think?”

James Franco seems to put a lot of people in a questioning mood. “Who Does James Franco Think He Is?” asked Macleans. “Is Franco Being Frank?” asked The Columbus Dispatch. “What Does It All Add Up To?” asked Esquire. Performance artist Marina Abramovic, who is making a film about James Franco, recently told Elle, “I’m interested to explain to [people] ‘Who is James Franco?’ and ‘Why is he doing what he’s doing?’”

“What he’s doing” is a lot. At the moment, he’s about to appear not only in Spring Breakers but the 3D Disney extravaganza Oz the Great and Powerful (in theaters March 8). That means that audiences can conceivably plan a James Franco double bill featuring a freaky, gun-fellating thug and a classic storybook character—and this just weeks after he hit the Sundance festival with no less than three films, all of them sex-centric. But James Franco isn’t just an actor (known for Freaks and Geeks, James Dean, Spider-Man, Milk and Pineapple Express, to name just a few). He directs. He’s a published author. He co-hosted the Oscars. (He was nominated for one, too, for 127 Hours.) He paints. He’s in a band. He’s a poet. He was the face of Gucci. He’s making a documentary about Gucci. At the Daytona 500 on Feb. 24, he served as Grand Marshal.

“Who is James Franco,” on the other hand, is simple: James Franco is the 21st century’s first great public intellectual.

Really.

These days, public intellectuals don’t get a lot of cred. Or maybe they would, if you could find more of them. Where are the thinkers who have become celebrities by speaking to the general public about the topics of the times? The American breed is identified with the essay-happy New York Intellectuals—Edmund Wilson, Mary McCarthy and the Trillings, among others—who held sway from the 1930s through the ’50s. The decline and near-extinction of this cultural species was charted in the 2001 book Public Intellectuals: A Study of Decline, in which author Richard Posner placed some of the blame on a shrinking market for their work and increased specialization within the academy. A few folks have had a go at the “public intellectual” gig in the last decade or so—Christopher Hitchens was often called one—but nobody really pulls it off anymore. At least not well.

Unlike Hitchens, James Franco isn’t known for critical essays. But as Robert Boynton points out in a 1995 Atlantic Monthly piece about the rise of African-American intellectuals, nothing says public intellectualism has to come in one format. The term was invented decades before the New York Intellectuals chose the essay as their preferred medium; today, their analogues—like Cornel West, to take one of Boynton’s examples—are better known for their Daily Show appearances than their writing. James Franco does write commentary (he took to the Wall Street Journal in 2009 in defense of performance art), but the rest of his work fits the bill, too. Though there’s no hard-and-fast definition of a public intellectual, Posner does enumerate a few signature qualities; if you boil down Posner’s terms to a checklist, you discover that just about everything Franco does helps make a case for him as a bona fide public intellectual. Even Pineapple Express. Here’s why:

Because a public intellectual is a generalist. Two years ago, following James Franco’s poorly received stint as Oscars co-host, the Weekly Standard posited that at some point James Franco would have to pick one career and stick with it. Nope. That kind of decision is anathema to the public intellectual, who must be versed in multiple topics, and James Franco shows zero sign of narrowing his focus.

Because a public intellectual has academic credibility but, if possible, isn’t tied to a university.
James Franco dropped out of college the first time around. Now, he has or is in the process of earning degrees from a half-dozen institutions, including Yale, Columbia and the Rhode Island School of Design. He’s also a teacher, with credits that include the class “Editing James Franco…with James Franco.” But he’s not linked to a single institution, which could encourage specialization of his knowledge—a no-no for the public intellectual.

Because a public intellectual is a celebrity. James Franco is a celebrity.

Because a public intellectual confronts norms. It’s no coincidence that James Franco’s Sundance hat trick was made up of the near-porn Interior. Leather Bar. (which he co-directed and appears in); the BDSM documentary Kink. (which he produced); and Lovelace, in which he plays Hugh Hefner.  James Franco returns again and again to art about sex and sexuality, even and especially when the subject matter makes viewers squeamish. Case in point: his 2010 short film Herbert White, with Michael Shannon, dealt with necrophilia. (It’s possible that the residue of all these adventures may also rub off on the family entertainment Oz the Great and Powerful, at least for the Franco-literate adults in the audience.)

Because a public intellectual examines society rather than merely participating. When James Franco appeared on General Hospital, he played the mysterious, mononymous artist Franco, who had a show at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art. At the same time, James Franco made a film about his General Hospital experience—and showed it at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art. And then explained in his WSJ piece that he went on General Hospital as a performance-art project about the nature of high and low art. “My hope,” he wrote, “was for people to ask themselves if soap operas are really that far from entertainment that is considered critically legitimate.”

Because a public intellectual is motivated by an ideology. James Franco has ideas—ideas that others have suggested are an extension of queer theory, which rejects binaries in sexuality and other areas of life; in fact, James Franco has cited queer theorist Michael Warner as part of the reason he chose Yale for his Ph.D. A 2010 New York magazine profile of the actor smartly proposed that he’s “queering celebrity” by “erasing the border not just between gay and straight but between actor and artist.” As he told the New York Daily News last spring, he sees art as raw material for more art.
James Franco twists existing works into new ones: poems into short films, soap operas into contemporary art. He goes beyond queer theory to create mash-up theory. It asks: What is art? What is celebrity? How do I fit into these worlds? How do we create judgments about what entertainment we consume? And why are you just consuming when you could be creating?

So James Franco is asking the same kinds of questions that those headlines do—and he’s answering them. That’s the general, academic, confrontational, ideological work of a public intellectual. Love him or hate him or hate-love him, he does make you think. And sometimes what he makes you think is that he’s fooling you into liking him, cackling evilly behind your back as he uses you without your consent for a grand, life-long art project about celebrity. But fear not: James Franco’s life doesn’t have to be art to be about art. Unlike his wizard of Oz, James Franco shows us what’s going on behind his curtain. Is he being serious? Absolutely. All that’s left is for the rest of us to take him seriously, too.

In the hours after our brief meeting, and then in the months that followed, I would come to believe that everything important about Franco and his career could be derived from that mystifying wink. The only problem was that I had no idea, really none at all, what he meant by it.

2. The Everything-ist
 
“Believe what you want. But here’s a clue. The secret to life: Anyone can die at any time.”
“So what do we do about it?”

“Amuse ourselves. Don’t live by rules or boundaries. And take what you want, when you want.”
—Franco and Maxie, General Hospital, November 24, 2009

---

Not so long ago, James Franco’s life and career were fairly normal. He grew up in Palo Alto, California, where his parents had met as Stanford students. Young James was, at his father’s urging, a math whiz—he even got an internship at Lockheed Martin. As a teenager, he rebelled, got in trouble with the law (drinking, shoplifting, graffiti), and eventually migrated toward the arts. His hero was Faulkner. He fell in love with acting when he played the lead in a couple of dark and heavy high-school plays. After freshman year, he dropped out of UCLA, very much against his parents’ wishes, to try to make a career of it. He was good, lucky, and driven, and within a couple of years, he got his first big break: Judd Apatow cast him in what would become the cult TV series Freaks and Geeks. When the series was canceled after just a season, Franco landed the lead in the TNT biopic James Dean. He played the part with a slumping intensity that seemed like a reasonable replication of the real thing—or at least much closer than anyone had a right to expect from a TNT biopic—and the performance won a Golden Globe. Soon after, he was cast as Robert De Niro’s drug-addicted son in the film City by the Sea. That same year, he entered mainstream consciousness as Peter Parker’s best friend in Spider-Man.

Franco had become, in other words, a working Hollywood actor. An unusual actor—he overprepared for minor roles, read Dostoyevsky and Proust between takes, and occasionally drove colleagues crazy with his intensity—but still identifiably an actor, with an actor’s career. As he climbed toward leading-man status, however, Franco had a crisis of faith. He found himself cast in a string of mediocre films—Annapolis, Flyboys, Tristan + Isolde—most of which bombed. He felt like he was funneling all his effort into glossy, big-budget entertainment over which he had no control, and of which he wasn’t proud.

At age 28, ten years after dropping out, Franco decided to go back to college. He enrolled in a couple of UCLA extension courses (literature, creative writing) and found them so magically satisfying—so safe and pure compared with the world of acting—that he threw himself back into his education with crazy abandon. He persuaded his advisers to let him exceed the maximum course load, then proceeded to take 62 credits a quarter, roughly three times the normal limit. When he had to work—to fly to San Francisco, for instance, to film Milk—he’d ask classmates to record lectures for him, then listen to them at night in his trailer. He graduated in two years with a degree in English and a GPA over 3.5. He wrote a novel as his honors thesis.

It was interesting timing. As soon as Franco decided his Hollywood career wasn’t enough, his Hollywood career exploded—which meant that his intellectual pursuits got picked up on the radar of the A-list Hollywood publicity machine. Which was, of course, baffled by all of it. Plenty of actors dabble in side projects—rock bands, horse racing, college, veganism—but none of them, and maybe no one else in the history of anything, anywhere, seems to approach extracurricular activities with the ferocity of Franco.

Take, for instance, graduate school. As soon as Franco finished at UCLA, he moved to New York and enrolled in four of them: NYU for filmmaking, Columbia for fiction writing, Brooklyn College for fiction writing, and—just for good measure—a low-residency poetry program at Warren Wilson College in North Carolina. This fall, at 32, before he’s even done with all of these, he’ll be starting at Yale, for a Ph.D. in English, and also at the Rhode Island School of Design. After which, obviously, he will become president of the United Nations, train a flock of African gray parrots to perform free colonoscopies in the developing world, and launch himself into space in order to explain the human heart to aliens living at the pulsing core of interstellar quasars.

Franco says all of his pursuits are possible, at least in part, because he’s cut down on his acting, but he’s still doing plenty of that. In the next year or so, he’ll be appearing in the films Eat, Pray, Love (as Julia Roberts’s boyfriend), Howl (as Allen Ginsberg), 127 Hours (as the one-armed hiker), Your Highness (a medieval comedy), William Vincent (an indie film by one of his NYU professors), Maladies (put out by his own production company), and Rise of the Apes (a prequel to Planet of the Apes). And of course there’s his epically weird stint on General Hospital—the crown jewel in the current science project of his career.