When James Franco isn’t acting, directing, being an erudite student in multiple universities, insulting theater critics or coming up with new methods of self-promotion, he’s writing poetry and fiction. In 2010 he published a collection of short stories called “Palo Alto”, centered on the lives of disaffected Californian teens. Worried that turning his own book into a film would result in a Franco OD, he allowed filmmaker Gia Coppola (grand-daughter of Francis, niece of Sofia) to both adapt and direct the feature length version, leading to a project that must’ve been pitched to studio heads just using hashtags and emoticons.
“Palo Alto” follows three interconnected stories; shy April (Emma Roberts) who is contemplating hitting on her soccer coach Mr. B (Franco), friendly stoner Teddy (Jack Kilmer) who means well but often gives in to the destructive ideas suggested by his best friend Fred (Nat Wolff), and Emily (Zoe Levin) who tries to fit in by offering guys sexual favors. We learn that Teddy has a crush on April, Emily sleeps with Fred...and you get the drill. The microcosms the film sets up makes us believe that these people will reach a point where they won’t be able to escape the influence they all have on each other, which might be interesting if it didn’t feel like a flaw due to misdirection.
In a languorous film, where nothing really happens, it’s essential to have the characters provide us with hooks to want to follow them and in “Palo Alto” we don’t even get a case of characters being insufferable or obnoxious, instead they move like empty vessels waiting for plot twists to convince us of their humanity. The dullness in “Palo Alto” doesn’t come from a place of artistry in which the form takes the shape of the ideas behind it, but from a place of utter indifference, apathy even. If Coppola doesn’t care about her characters, why should we?
Shot like a fashion magazine spread, the film’s color palette is more postmortem than postmodern; the icy greens and blues drawing even more life out of this collection of taxidermied characters. Coppola, who is obviously influenced by her aunt Sofia’s fixation on ennui, lacks the soul to make her characters interesting beyond their obvious shortcomings. She certainly has the style though, all she needs to do now is come up with the substance.
