A legendary movie critic, movie lover, movie fanatic has just passed. In his place?

Why not James Franco?

James Franco has just gifted us with another movie review at the Huffington Post, this time on The Place Beyond The Pines, only it’s not so much about the film than about Ryan Gosling.

A love letter to Ryan Gosling. Click here to read it.

Franco seems intoxicated by “the Gos’s” performance. The Gos? This is what he calls him. REPEATEDLY. And then there’s this. This is ONE SENTENCE:

The first image we see is Gos's toned six-pack, framed tight so that his head is cut off in order to focus our attention on the full spread of idiosyncratic tattoos and the impressive opening and closing of a butterfly knife, a skill Gosling mastered -- he is the king of eccentric character behavior -- as the character anxiously paces; in the same take, the character (we later learn his name is Luke) sticks the knife overhand into the wall and walks out the door shirtless; we still haven't seen his face but we know it's the Gos: the hair, the head, the strut; as we follow him through active carnival grounds the Dardenne behind-the-head shot is kept active by the developing activity of Luke: first he puts on his signature black Metallica shirt -- pay close attention to all of Gosling's clothes in whatever he does, he is a master at evoking character through dress: The Drive Scorpion jacket; the Blue Valentine two-tone leather, I mean, come on giiiiiiirl; and here a red jacket, more nondescript than usual Gosling but still cool -- and then the cigarette comes out, but we only know this from the smoke that rolls back over his shoulders; as he winds though the dinging rides and flashing booths he is crowned by the chintzy glamour of the multicolored lights, and this is just so right, because this is what the character is: the smoking, brooding carnival king who will ride his motorcycle like no other into the burning twilight of legend; but the shot doesn't stop, he enters a buzzing tent just as he is announced by the ponytailed MC; he mounts his bike next to two other riders; the camera moves back and forth across his badass face, the first time we see it; he has a cross tattooed below his left eye and some erratic squiggly writing below his neck -- still no cut -- and then the three riders enter a porous metal sphere, and they're off; is it Gosling in there riding loops with the other two?

Come on giiiirl...

I mean, I’m guilty of a long sentence now and again too but 347 words is probably way out of my reach. Because, well, I’m not an Artist. And since Franco is an all-purpose, multi-discipline Artist, the one sentence structure here, obviously, was deliberate...

The long sentence assisted by semicolons evokes a continuous stroke and rhythm, the rhythm of self pleasure by inspiration -- in this case Ryan Gosling. He’s basically masturbating through this paragraph...

Burn hard baby

He comes.

Oh but like all true artists, Franco’s spank is multi-layered. He is, on the surface, praising his peer. Underneath that, well, there may even be some snark directed at the Hey Girl phenomenon. Snark to mask the jealousy? And finally, there’s the Artist as the ultimate Tease: he who has long been the subject of gay speculation fapping with words to perpetuate the rumours.

Because he is an enigma, that James Franco.

And would you look at that?

It’s all come back to James Franco again.