Of dubious value, James Franco‘s latest act of trespass on the literary heritage of the United States, and on the goodwill of his audience, comes in the form of this thuddingly literal adaptation of John Steinbeck‘s “In Dubious Battle.” It’s directed by James Franco, stars James Franco and features some familiar faces from the rotating ensemble we like to call the James Franco Players, along with a stellar supporting cast that is testament to, if nothing else, the borderline-criminal fact that actors like Vincent D’Onofrio, Robert Duvall, Ed Harris and Sam Shepard apparently have nothing better to do. The least well-known of Steinbeck’s so-called “Dustbowl Trilogy” (with “The Grapes Of Wrath” and “Of Mice And Men” being its more famous brethren), “In Dubious Battle” seems destined to become the least well-known of Franco’s own unofficial interwar Americana trilogy too. Not because his two Faulkner adaptations were shining masterpieces, but at least “As I Lay Dying” had some experimental split-screen camerawork to distract us, while “The Sound And The Fury” featured the unforgettable best recent instance of an actor (Franco himself) “going full ret*rd.” “In Dubious Battle” has neither of these claims on our attention, and if it marks a certain upgrade in the polish and professionalism of his direction, it also marks an embrace of a kind of anonymous, fuddy-duddy traditionalist approach. In short, it’s maybe Franco’s best-crafted film to date, and also maybe his dullest.
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Set once again in Depression-era rural America (presumably Franco got a good deal on a lot of flat caps and threadbare overalls back in the day, and wants to get his money’s worth), the story follows Jim (Nat Wolff), an idealistic young man who joins forces with a trio of activists committed to fomenting revolt and resistance among migrant worker populations, against the landowners and businessmen who keep slashing their wages until they’re essentially living in indentured servitude. The revolutionaries are led by Mac (Franco), a ruthless ideologue who believes in sacrificing anything and anyone for the cause; Edie (Ahna O’Reilly), who is in charge of logistics and supplies for striking workers; and Joy (Harris), an aging, infirm firebrand whose hands have been broken so many times over by the authorities that he can no longer make a fist. Mac and Jim head for a California valley Mac deems ripe for an uprising as wily old boss Bolton (Duvall) has just reduced his apple pickers’ pay from three dollars to one dollar a day. As the de facto leader of the workers, London (D’Onofrio) tries to take a stand, but ultimately goes to work for the non-living wage, as he and his family, including pregnant daughter-in-law Lisa (Selena Gomez — no, really, and she’s actually probably the best thing in it), have nowhere else to go.
In addition to this already sprawling cast of characters, there’s further background color and intrigue in a chorus of belligerent policemen, Pinkerton agents, ungovernable daughters (played by Analeigh Tipton and Ashley Greene), and Josh Hutcherson as a traitor in the worker’s ranks spurred to action when the comely Lisa chooses Jim over him (honestly, no one thinks Peeta should have got the girl). Lots of things happen, in ceaseless, numbing, one-after-the-other sequence: Trains get jumped on in picturesque fashion (DP Bruce Thierry Cheung puts some pretty images together); ladders get sabotaged; men get shot; strikes get called; deals get struck; deals go sour; Jim gets betrayed; and lots and lots of verbose, on-the-nose conversations are had, which state and restate the issues and injustices facing this fraying community, over and over again.
The chief problem here is that this film, sincerely intentioned though it is, is not so much an interpretation of the text as a reenactment of it, so subtext is completely absent, and the parallels it could find between Steinbeck’s world and ours today (which are not difficult to imagine in a story about competing ideologies, solidarity in the face of oppression and the dangers of zealotry whatever the cause) remain utterly untouched. This makes it feel like an inappropriately starry middle-school lesson, an impression enhanced by the closing titles which list off stentorian factoids about the Great Depression and the evolution of worker’s rights like a particularly dry sidebar in a history textbook.
The trajectory of Franco’s directorial career — at least as much of it as anyone has seen, because I defy anyone to have watched everything he’s put his name to, even his Mom — has been one of gathering competence but waning personality. Our press notes tell us that adapting this book (reportedly President Obama’s favorite ever) was “a dream come true” for Franco, but we’re almost certain he said the same thing about his Cormac McCarthy, and his last Faulkner, and the one before. One has to wonder how many more dreams Franco has left that haven’t yet come true, because amid the dozen or so titles listed under his IMDB “director” entry for 2016 and 2017, there is nothing that feels particularly passion project-y about “In Dubious Battle.” To the contrary, there’s a sense that, if anything, all these rather hastily assembled projects are dry runs for the masterpiece he may one day make in the future. If so, that’s an admirably long-view, “student of cinema” approach to take to a directorial career. But the question remains: Why do we keep having to sit through premiere after premiere in the sidebars of major festivals all over the world if all we’re really watching is a filmed rehearsal for something else? [C]
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