Please let those words be stricken from the Internet, because if this turns into some kind bohemian Twilight (with elements of Franco's contribution to Milk), hordes of angry New Yorkers who were touched by Smith's writing on their morning commute will fight back. Franco, I'm telling you, do not bring your drooling, stoner General Hospital/NYU professor nonsense near this. Luckily, the script is in good hands, as Smith herself (with John Logan, of The Aviator fame) is writing it independently on spec and not for any studio in particular.
Just Kids, which won the the National Book Award last year, tells the story of Smith's intimate friendship with Robert Mapplethorpe from when they first met in the East Village in the late 1960s to his death in 1989. In her uniquely open and sincere prose, Smith writes about how the two developed as artists and as lovers, detailing the struggle and confusion along the way.
It could make a wonderful movie—if they use fresh faces. Let's hope that Just Kids won't ever just be a bullet point on some hackneyed celebrity's IMDB profile.