Dear Movie Audiences Across the Nation,

I'm writing to you because I don't know what to do. You fell in love with my bizarre, edgy humor on my comedy CDs and early films such as Billy Madison. You were happy, I was happy. The critics weren't happy but I think it's because they didn't get what was fresh about what I was doing at the time. But then some of you started to turn on me after Little Nicky. I thought it was wicked good and cool and something different but you guys thought it sucked big time. Okay. Fine. Look, I was just trying to do something different because I didn't want to keep repeating the same stupid scripts. Instead I made a somewhat different idiotic script with an unlikable character. I tried to walk carefully on the balance beam of annoyance but I'll cop up to it, I guess: I fell flat on my face.

I did some charity work after that, spending time with the mentally handicapped. I refer, of course, to my cameo in the Rob Schneider film, The Animal (Just kidding Robby! No letters!). It was an easy gig and it gave me time to reflect on my career. Then, almost out of nowhere, P.T. Anderson asks me to do a movie about a guy who collects a lot of pudding so he can fly commercially for the rest of his life. Personally I thought he was just tripping on 'shrooms and it would pass but when he called to follow-up about the project I realized he was just a complete nut job. And I like working with nut jobs. That's why Jack (Nicholson to you plebeians! Ha ha, just kidding) and I got along!

Anyway, a crazy thing happened when I did the P.T. Anderson movie: I realized I was doing something special. I realized Anderson saw something in my other films that he wanted to explore in a more dramatic setting. Don't get me wrong; I was wicked funny in the movie. But it was more subtle and "character-driven" (a term we coined during the film's production). It was an amazing experience. I worked with a real director who had this original way of shooting, staging, using music and a lot of other cool stuff like that. I was as proud of this movie as I was Happy Gilmore. And for the first time I felt my career might be taking a leap in a whole new direction.

And you guys hated it. Even Little Nicky outgrossed it (and to my eternal shame, so did The Animal). Now those critic people liked it, which was hella awesome. But they aren't my people. You're my people. I didn't get it. I thought you wanted something different. I thought you would get tired of the same humor and the same jokes over and over and over and over again. But you didn't. You wanted me to be Burger King. You wanted to know exactly what you were getting.

I liked the critical acclaim I got for the movie. And I liked the crossover appeal I got from The Wedding Singer. So I just decided to try and appease everyone and water down some of my humor, make it more generic and more mass-market like Burger King. I decided to go back to my sweet films (not smart sweet movies like Punch-Drunk Love, really, really dumb sweet movies).

A few years later I made a movie with James L. Brooks that wasn't very good, but a whole lot better than some of my other movies. It was called Spanglish and Holy Bono you people hated that darn movie too! I thought I was pretty good in that movie. I was able to play a completely normal guy for what felt like the first time in my career. I got some good notices and it outgrossed Little Nicky, but that's like saying I outgrossed a Troma movie for Pete's sake.

So I went back to what I do best: really bad and unfunny movies and you guys loved it. The Longest Yard and Click cleaned up even though they were complete wastes of everyone's time. And Click was nominated for an Oscar. Not even Punch-Drunk Love pulled that off. It's true, look it up!

To be honest, folks, I felt a little down after those two movies were big hits. I like the money, don't get me wrong. Belieeeeeeeeve me, I'z looooooove the money. But after working with P.T. and James L. Brooks, I had this funny feeling. I wanted to do good work. I cared. So I took another shot on this great little Mike Binder script called Reign Over Me and I got some of the best reviews of my career. Everyone who saw it seemed to love it. Problem: nobody went to see it. It made even less money than 8 Crazy Nights!

I don't get it. I really felt I did my best work in that thing. I co-starred with the great Don Cheadle. You guys like him, right? From the Oceans movies? Four months later, I released I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, which was totally lame. Didn't you notice that we didn't even try? All the jokes were obvious, stale, and a total assault on your intelligence. Granted, I gave you Jessica Biel. But Jessica Biel for your soul? Okay, bad example. But you guys flocked to that thing. In other words, you ate it up! You drank my milkshake. Fine.

Well, you know what? Just keep drinking. I quit. I'm just going to stop trying. Maybe if Tarantino does that war movie he's been hanging in front me like a carrot for the past decade I'll get back to some more challenging stuff, but for now it's just too many headaches. I have money to count and broads to see. I'm like Rambo; I can't fight what I am. I'm a killer, an assassin. I'm playing an ex-Mossad hairdresser next because on paper that sounds funny (lesson: sounds = is). And when Schneider cons the movie studio into giving him another lead role, I'll be in that garbage-fest too. I lose. You win. I admit it. But the next time you go see one of my crappy movies, just remember ... I tried.

Sincerely,

Adam

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Dre writes three times a week for Film.com. Email him!

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