The thing about commercial film these days is that there’s so much hype around the major releases before you get to the  cinema.  The weeks before Howl opened were filled with pronouncements of actor James Franco’s lack of physical similiarity with Allen Ginsberg, of Franco’s ability to cleverly catch the essence of the Beat poet’s placid radicalism, and of the capricious mix of live shot and animated segments that comprise the film.

Franco has been a visible presence on TV and radio with much being made of his intelligence – demonstrated by his studies at Oxford and his current status as a candidate for a Phd in English literature at Yale.  Here, at last, is an actor with the intelligence and acting skill to bind the subtle threads of the sensitive radical that was Allen Ginsberg.  Or, at least, this is what we were told.

Howl is adventurous.  It attempts to take the literally minded film-goer used to concrete images and  fully-developed characters and throws him into a world where the walking Ginsberg, unlucky in love, poised against the establishment, is adroitly juxtaposed with the creative carver of verse.  Lewdly and incisively yet truthfully and simply he writes of his love, his lust, his street, your street.  The film is successful in presenting the overlapping influences of  family, love, and social revolution on the poet’s life and work without being pedantic.

Franco, however, was disappointing.  His portrayal of the urban bard smacks of the smarmy brainiac who thinks he can do anything well – probably because the rest of us tell him that he can.  Well, he can’t.  Our Yale hero shows acting as imitative truth without an understanding of what it means to be marginalised and fighting, ugly yet beautiful, lonely yet adored.

Credit  should be given to all involved for the attempt, but this film is a lesson in the need for film casting to be less concerned with star quality and more concerned with casting leads who have a connection with the material.  I’m not saying that Franco is too young, too pretty, or too smart for the role.  I’m saying that he isn’t Ginsberg and lacks the qualitities needed to become Ginsberg – if only for a couple of film hours.

The film is worth seeing – but not cheering.