Where art, entertainment, and lady dudeness intersect.
by Evan Sinclair
Dear Mr. Spielberg,
My name is Evan Sinclair, and I am a writer. Before I go any further, I’d like to say thank you for creating some of my favorite movies of all time. It’s a real mitzvah what you’ve done for the industry. The Terminal, Indiana Jones (the new/best one) and Amistad, to name a few, have made their way into my “Eterna-List.” That’s a list I’ve created that isn’t for movies I just sort of love, but for movies that I predict I will love so much, that I will love them still even in the afterlife. (Maybe I’ll be your neighbor in Heaven, and we can watch these movies togetherJ.)
Sorry, I digress. My Therapist says I need to stop yenting it up all the time and work on my “focus,” and my wife agrees. Speaking of her, we’re expecting our first child! Which brings me to my point….
In these TMZ times we’re living in, I feel like classic Hollywood Folk Lore has become completely saturated and forgotten. What happened to the good old stories of behind-the-scenes fisticuffs? All night cocaine-fueled editing sessions? Characters named after unconscious hookers found in Marlon Brando’s trailer?! You can’t even go outside to check your mail without some jerk face Perez Hilton painting semen stains on your mouth and posting it online THAT day! It’s like 1984, when people had a lot more cameras and took pictures of things all the time. I guess I just miss the days when you had to WAIT several years to get all the juicy details instead of having them all instantly updated to an APP you downloaded on your fakakta iPhone. Which brings me to my point….
My un-born son, Avraham Elliott Sinclair, is due in 2 months, and in accordance with Jewish Law we will be conducting the Bris Milah Ceremony. Mr. Spielberg, I’d be honored if you would attend, and at the moment of circumcision, shout into a megaphone, “CUT!”
I know it sounds a little mishegas, but let me give a little background into the situation.
I am a recovering alcoholic writer and my wife is a make-up artist I met on the set of my senior thesis film, “Garbage Train.” Genetically speaking, this kid has EVERYTHING he needs to become one of the most powerful directors in film history; A father too proud to approve of anything his son creates, but secretly laments for being more talented than he, and a mother so obsessed with appearance that he develops a body image issue. Ever heard the phrase “Damaged Goods?” This kid will have more fodder for material than the front desk girl at Planned Parenthood! The only thing he’s missing is the classic Hollywood story of when Uncle Spielberg, the Hollywood Mensch, shouted “CUT!” when they clipped his foreskin. Picture it, Avraham telling this story to his peers when he accepts his Lifetime Achievement Award at The Oscars. I bet you and I will be enjoying it on our television set in Heaven when we have our After-Life Oscar Party. (Probably by then we’ll have futuristic television sets like the ones in Minority Report!)
Look, I know you’re a bit of a control freak, so feel free to riff a little a bit and go off the cuff. If you feel like shouting, “THAT’S A WRAP!” or “STICK IT TO TAPE!” that’s fine, too.
Thank you, Mr. Spielberg for taking the time out of your busy day to read this.
Love, Evan Sinclair