Shia: Flesh and Fantasy

I don't understand why I can't be left alone to enjoy Shia for the months or weeks left he has before the American zeitgeist declares him overexposed. It's all so full of hope now; so innocent. It could even last longer than Hayden Christensen.

That said, looking over the GQ photos of Shia, I have to say he just doesn't come off with a hell of a lot of personality. Those candid photos of him smoking and ducking the camera are far more real and compelling. In those photos we see the real Shia LeBeouf, the "what the f**k?" Shia, the Shia that exists between takes.

Gone are the puppy dog eyes, gone is the earnest but blank expression, gone are the painful hours of blowdrying his hair straight, and in its place the real deal, the "f**k it's early" Shia, or the "f**k it's late" Shia. In fact, his name really isn't Shia in those photos. It's Frank. Frank LaBeouf.

Frank LaBeouf

Except in this photo, in which his name is clearly Goober:

Cigarette Martyr