Open Letter

Dear Chris Pratt,

Leave my childhood alone, dude!

June 10, 2015 Published in the June 2015 issue of Seattle Met

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Image: Daniel Fishel

Or should I say, Mr. I Plan to Plunder Generation X’s Childhood for My Own Fame and Financial Gain Until the Only Late ’80s Intellectual Property Left Untouched is The Dark Crystal. Wait, is your agent reading this? Dammit, don’t you dare think about lobbying for a role as Jen the Gelfing. He was a puppet!

Now I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t stoked to see Jurassic World in June. (I’d also be lying if I said I don’t occasionally put on black-rimmed glasses, unbutton my shirt halfway to my navel, and stare at the mirror while purring, “I’m always on the lookout for a future ex–Mrs. Malcolm.”) And when rumors started spreading late in 2013 that you’d be the star of the movie, my tabletop gaming crew and I were superstoked. You’re a Seattle(ish) native. Your FBI agent Burt Macklin is arguably the greatest ironic character played by a sitcom character played by a real actor of all time. By all accounts, you’re a genuinely good dude. Basically, you’re the rich man’s Chris O’Donnell!

But then something started to happen. First there were the reports online in February 2014 that you were talking to Harvey Weinstein about starring in a big-screen reboot of Knight Rider, which…what? I get it, the Channing Tatum version of 21 Jump Street blew up, but is anyone really clamoring to spend 90 minutes with a mulleted wack job who talks to his car? We already have Uber.

And then last August Guardians of the Galaxy came out, and it was great. You were great. Your Star-Lord was equal parts lovable hero and roguish antihero. (And yes, I even bought the six-inch Marvel Legends Star-Lord action figure—via Amazon. Toys R Us cashiers are really judgy.) So it didn’t take Professor X to predict what would happen next: Suddenly you were every movie geek’s first choice for the starring role in whatever franchise Hollywood wanted to reboot next. Which brings us to Indiana Jones.

When I read earlier this year that Disney might want you to don the leather jacket and fedora, I hulked out and almost snapped my replica Mace Windu lightsaber in half—but not for the reason you might imagine. (My justification for hating the rumor that you’ll be in a new Ghostbusters movie is exactly what you’d imagine: OH MY GOD SO MANY REMAKES THINK OF SOMETHING NEW.) Thing is, you’d be perfect as Indy—so perfect, in fact, that I wouldn’t spend the whole movie comparing you to Harrison Ford because you’d replace him seamlessly. And based on the fact that I cried tears of joy when I saw aging Han Solo in the latest Star Wars trailer, I’m just not ready to let him go that easily.

Look, four pop culture cornerstones of the ’80s and ’90s is two too many for any one person to reappropriate. (Also, there are only so many toys vaguely resembling you that I’m willing to display in my bedroom.) So I’ll make you a deal: You promise to stick with Jurassic Park/World and one more franchise from my youth—but not Indy or Ghostbusters, so basically Knight Rider because I wouldn’t see it anyway—and I’ll stop tweeting from my parody Twitter account, Chris Pratt’s Nasty Neck Beard.

Live long and prosper (but not at the expense of my childhood memories),


President of the Seattle Adult Devotees of Serialized Action Comics (SADSAC)

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