Dear Mr. Movie Star,
Take this as a compliment when I say that your acting is the ‘hot’ to my ‘chocolate’, the ‘salt’ to my pepper’, and the ‘cheese’ to my ‘macaroni’.
I know what you’re thinking, “Oh no, another crazy, obsessive fan girl” – if you even read your fan mail of course. Maybe your publicist reads and responds, and maybe he or she is reading this. Maybe your publicist is reading this late into the night while you’re at some club, trying to get laid. Nevertheless, I hope that maybe this letter is passed on to you. I have some things to say that I think are detrimental to your personal well being.
I suggest you actually should sleep with as many women as possible. Somehow, you were blessed with heavenly attractiveness, and huge muscles that are only going to sag with age. I propose you simply use your physicality to your advantage. Good looks never last forever. Remember to use protection.
Movie Star, getting to the nitty-gritty though, you put me in a trance. At the beginning of your career, when you co-starred in that awful teen movie vehicle for that messed up Disney starlet, I knew I would be a fan of yours for a long time. You took your top off and I cried with joy. Abs like yours are gifts from God, and you knew, at least in that dump of a movie, how to use your gifts wisely. After that, thoughts of rubbing my hands up and down your rippling chest consumed my every moment.
After that, you had your first breakthrough. You ended up being typecast quite a bit, but appeared in endless romantic comedies. For the most part, the movies themselves were horrible and cheesy, but you took your shirt off in most of the scenes, which made me overlook the terrible scripts. At the showings for these movies, I sat in the front row, in total ecstasy. Whenever you kissed the lovelorn girls at the end of those flops, my heart leapt with joy. In the midst of your domination of the rom-coms of yester year, I heard you started getting risqué. According to the tabloids, you were breaking the hearts of ditzy actresses and using drugs in your spare time. In these films though, you were perfect; the young, good guy who had a decent job and problems, but always won the girl in the end.
An acclaimed director saw potential in you and decided to use you in his police drama. This was an even bigger breakthrough – a movie with a script that was actually decent. This new character was a departure from your older “Average Joe” guys - a tough, inner city cop who didn’t take his shirt off, but he knew he was pretty damn sexy. This policeman had layers, and you somehow dug into the soul of this man and made him your own. I watched you bloom into a whole different actor then, and I was proud. I still loved seeing your body builder chest, but my admiration was now rooted in respect. Your performance was praised by critics but your personal life was getting even messier. You apparently blew tons of money on some deals in Vegas that were up in the air, and got in trouble with the feds twice.
Better directors hired you and you were being called on by the world’s leading cinematic minds. Your performances had developed into round portrayals of real people. I kept watching your old movies, but your new characters completely intrigued me. I had witnessed a birth of an artist, from your early stages of innocence to your new found confidence.
Now, eight years after starring in your first studio film, you’re on the cusp of your first Oscar nomination. I’m happy for you and all of accolades you acquired. But as I think about you, Movie Star, my head divides you into two different people: leading man and loser. I can easily say I only like one of those people.
The fantasy of you is wonderful. Somewhere, there’s a talented man whose craft is acting and lights up the screen in you. The reality of you is nauseating, and not desirable. As fame consumed you, you morphed into a new being driven by the superficial. Swept up in it all, you got lost in the Hollywood ruckus. You think all these women are in love with you, but not the ‘you’ that you inhabit nowadays. Girls love the guy that comes alive on the camera, the driven man who plays ingenious roles. Mr. Movie Star, no woman wants to be with a man who stumbles out of bars every night, completely drunk, taking nothing seriously. You’re drowning in the mess that you concocted.
Loser Movie Star – keep on smoking joints and getting DWIs, relishing the front page of US Weekly and People as long as you want. That’s what you do best, right? But Leading Man Movie Star – make beautiful movies. Put all the heart you have left in them. That’s the part of you that I’m now a fan of.
