In Pineapple Express, his first big studio effort, director David Gordon Green busts out of the film-festival fellowship where he was adored for Southern-drawl soul-searchers (George Washington, All the Real Girls, Undertow). Under Judd Apatow's wing, he puts the recurring theme of the box-office guy's guy — male friendship and its tragic and hilarious resonance — up to multiple death threats in a stoner comedy exploring the bond between Dale (Seth Rogen), a horny process server, and Saul (James Franco), his THC-addled dealer.
After sampling a new strain of weed called Pineapple Express, both dealer and faithful customer come to a realization that a violent drug lord and his thugs are chasing them. Of course, friends — especially at the confluence of rivalry and fear and insecurity — can turn on each other, but the story (by Apatow, Rogen, and Evan Goldberg) sandwiches desperation and confusion in between car chases and sniper fire.
Appealing as he is here, Rogen is content to play Rogen, with his paeans to primo weed and his cartoon-bear galumphing. But Franco does something he's never done before: He dirties up his James Dean looks with stringy locks and Baja pjs fished out of the laundry pile. His Spicoli-with-a-soul vibe thrums with irony and empathy. We don't need a new Brando or Pacino in every movie; sometimes it's enough to be reminded how great it can feel to be wise and unwashed.
