Ben – In the event that you do buy yourself a time machine with all the billions and billions of dollars you’re making from acting in crappy movies, you should first print out the letter below, take it with you to 1999 when you still had a semblance of cred and respect, and give it to your younger self. Cool?
Dear Me From 1999,
First thing’s first: yes, it’s me, you. In the future, we are crazy rich and one of Hollywood’s foremost leading men. Am I drinking crazy juice? No way, Jose! We made it. We’re big time. I bought a time machine because, I have nothing else to spend my piles of Benjamins on. So, I had to come back to the time when we were still making movie magic to warn you about how we turn out. 2011 is bleak, man. A total buzzkill. Not like we’re being attacked by mutant zombies-bleak, but our career is one big bottle of weak sauce. We’re in movies titled–and I kid you not–Meet the Fockers and Night At The Museum II. We’re even filming a third museum movie. How depressing is that? Like we need a third installment of a security guard surrounded by historical artifices that only come alive at night? Been there, done that! Thrice!
Ben, listen to me. I want to remind you of your values and principles. Remember when you owned “interesting” and “funny” (two words you will become less familiar with as the years go on) like how we did during our short-lived TV series? Remember when we had range and could play a host of characters that all didn’t pretend that they were mentally challenged? Now it seems like every role is a variation of Zoolander–even Greenberg felt like a dumb model. (You’ll find out who Greenberg is one day. But to sum it, it’s a pathetic attempt at reclaiming your indie cred. Baumbach? Really? So cliche.)
But no matter what your agent says about money, do not agree to do the following projects because when you’re alone in your bed at night, you will think about Jennifer Aniston and you will feel so bad for her and what happened with Gerard and it will depress you. Don’t do Along Comes Polly. Don’t do The Heartbreak Kid, anything involving a Focker, Duplex, Keeping the Faith…oh, wait. This is 1999. We did that last one already, right? It wasn’t that bad, I guess.
Don’t get me wrong. We’ve hit some out of the ballpark like the aforementioned Zoolander, half of Tropic Thunder (despite the overrated Tom Cruise cameo), and….well, that’s probably about it, but overall, for the next ten years, we will spend most of our days walking all over our reputation like an Interstate Highway hotel doormat (because they charge by the hour and so a lot of people are coming in and out. Like people having affairs, prostitutes, drug dealers. No one wants to stay there overnight….Seedy types…the point is that that it’s a doormat that is used often! And our reputation is like that!)
I wish I could properly convey the pain of watching Harvey Keitel, Dustin Hoffman, and Robert De Niro making total asses of themselves in the unfunniest movie of 2010. I wish I could properly relay to you the experience of having your soul whither away as you watch three great actors collectively destroy the proverbial Great Actor Skyscraper into rubble. Despite all the comforts of life, of which we will have many (trust me when I say that we will be able to buy and sell Andy Dick seven times), a decade of fart and diarrhea jokes will wear away at you until you have to do something incredibly drastic like buy a time machine and visit yourself ten years back.
I’m trying to make it better here, man. Whatever you do, please break this cycle before it’s too late. As soon as Danny DeVito walks into your office and pitches you a movie starring alongside the truly adorable Drew Barrymore about an apartment in Manhattan with an old lady living above you, say no. Thank him, but say no. And then go make a movie with Charlie Kauffman because he makes Jim Carrey into a legit actor and that, my friend, is a miracle.
Speak soon.
B.S.
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