(Excuse me one f*cking second)

Same-sex relationships — like nuclear arms proliferation and environmental pollution — constitute "an objective obstacle on the road to peace," wrote Pope Benedict XVI in a statement released by the Vatican yesterday.

This from the man who wears Gucci sunglasses and red Prada loafers. Did I mention he's also calling for an "equitable distribution of wealth" throughout the world?

Your Holiness:

Surely you've already sold your couture wardrobe and given the proceeds to the poor, so let's not waste time on that. As someone who was raised Catholic, I must politely register my displeasure over the first part of your statement. You are in a remarkable position; a great number of people listen closely to and follow what you say. You advocate peace, but you do so at the expense of a vast sector of society that includes not only the GLBT community but also the straight people who stand with it. You, as the leader of a religion that calls for loving one's neighbor as one's self, have the power to very bravely say, "Love manifests itself in many forms, and its power or worth does not diminish as it shape-shifts. We are finished with senseless discrimination and effrontery. It is beneath us. We welcome all people who choose to believe that life is better lived with and for others rather than above and apart. A love for God and the espousal of the altruistic tenets of Jesus Christ are all we ask for — we do not care about your race, sexual orientation or any other personal aspect over which you have no control. We only care about the part you can control: the manner in which you conduct your life. Conduct it peacefully, with an open heart."

Instead of leading us into the future, Your Holiness, you have chosen to remain rigidly anchored to dusty, antiquated prejudice. You have chosen to inculcate intolerance. You are tilling the soil of society so it remains fertile for the seeds of hate. I look forward to the day when you realize your mistake — your sin — and I pray that time comes soon, on this Earth, rather than in the afterlife, when your god will no doubt purse his lips, shake his head and break the news that you were very, very wrong.

With love and in hope,
J.J.

Dear Sidney (Lumet):

I was very excited for your new movie, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. "Enthralling," said Edelstein. "Furious and entertaining," said Denby. A "superb crime melodrama," said Ebert. "This is a movie, I promise you, that grabs you and won't let you think of anything else."

I don't really agree with any of these snippets, and it's killing me. It couldn't have been the subject matter; no good movie is ever depressing. Then why did I walk away from it so deflated? I feel like you let me down. I think it's because for the first time, I didn't feel anything for your characters, who, as written by Kelly Masterson, make illogical choices. I never realized how much empathy or sympathy mattered until the credits started to roll and I felt only an absence of feeling. It felt like indifference. Like a vacuum. I hated that feeling.

I'll grant you this: you've coached the men to perform admirably. Hoffman, Hawke and Finney (with whom you worked 33 years ago on Murder on the Orient Express) are dynamos. But your movie doesn't buttress their performances with any real heart or brains. I guess I was longing for something to cling to -- like I did to Paul Newman in The Verdict, Treat Williams in Prince of the City, William Holden in Network, Al Pacino in Serpico or Dog Day Afternoon, Rod Steiger in The Pawnbroker and Henry Fonda in 12 Angry Men.

The critics are praising your "return to form." You're 83 years old, and they're saying you've directed with the vigor of a man a third of your age. And maybe you have. The movie is slick, focused, violent, aloof. But it seems that you've also made some of the fundamental mistakes of a man a third of your age -- sacrificing nuance for bizarre plot economy, for example. My first thought was there is simply too much subtext in Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. But then I started thinking there wasn't any subtext. There was just a vacuum. A radical departure.

I'm sorry, Sidney. I'm so glad people have received your movie with open arms. Lord knows you've needed an unqualified hit. Maybe one day I'll see it again and realize I've missed something. Until then: Stay alive, stay true to yourself, and see you next time.

With love,
J.J.

A thank you note

Dear George, Tilda and Tony:

Thanks for restoring my faith in movies. You have directed and performed the sh*t out of a brilliant original screenplay (fancy that! An original screenplay). It's such a basic concept, but few get it right (or even try to). How wonderful it was to pay $10 and actually have oxygen instead of noise pumped into my brain.

Love, JJ

An open letter to Jennifer Aniston

Dear Jen,

Stop it. Just stop. Get off -- or on -- the meds. Whichever one it is, do the opposite. Fire your agent. Remove yourself from under Vince Vaughn. You need help. Look at your last five movies, all made in the last three years: The Break-Up (in which you are an accessory of Vaughn's), Rumor Has It (in which you were an accessory of Kevin Costner's), Derailed (in which you were an accessory of Clive Owen's), Along Came Polly (in which you were an accessory of Ben Stiller's), Bruce Almighty (in which you were an accessory of Jim Carrey's). I sense a pattern. You have created your own niche market -- the sidekick chick who looks and acts smartly but is really just window dressing. These are bad parts in worse movies. You can do better.

Remember when you did Office Space in 1999 -- how adorable and engaging you were? That's because you had writers who wrote a character that uses your talents and a director who plugged you into the movie as a whole. Remember when you did The Good Girl in 2002? I was, and am, incredibly impressed with your acting ability. The Good Girl was a triumph, one of the best movies (and performances) of the millennium. The way you're going, it was the role of your career. Treasure it.

Even though it was ultimately a letdown, Friends with Money has been your sole step in the right direction in the past three years. Keep working with people like Nicole Holofcener, but stop doing these other flim-flam projects. You don't need the money. You don't need the exposure. All you need do is make sure your talents are being served. Make a film only when it's right, and you'll be more than just a Friend. You'll be a movie star.

Love,
J.J.

P.S. The New York Times, not to be outdone by me, also has your welfare on its mind.

Dear Paul Thomas Anderson:

Most people know of my distate for your films.

They're virtuosic, yes, but self-conscious and indulgent in an irritating way. Boogie Nights and Magnolia are heaving Hindenbergs, pumped up with every maverick technique possible. What comes across from your movies is you. When I watch Punch-Drunk Love, I see you grinning, not two people falling in love.

Maybe I'm just jealous. You're young, talented, making films that people think are important and lasting. You're also shadowing Robert Altman as the master directs Prairie Home Companion; it's your job to pinch hit if the 80-year-old Altman croaks. Not a bad gig. And people call you by your initials, for chrissakes. PTA.

So, to re-acquaint myself with you, I checked your trivia on IMDb.

Your favorite movie of all time is Network.

My initial action was one of anger, and retaliation. "No, you bastard, that's mine" or "What the hell do you know about Network?" But it must mean something, right? If your favorite movie is Network and my favorite is Network, don't we have some common ground on which to build a long and sustaining director-viewer relationship?

I thought about it. Network has a big cast. It's angry, in-your-face, symphonic. It aims high. Kind of like your movies. Maybe. It pains me to even write that. Don't get me wrong: Sidney Lumet is a far superior (and older, for that matter) director. Lumet did not get in the way of Network like you do with your films. Network is genius. Magnolia is cocksmanship. But their components are similar. It's just the execution that separates them.

So where does that leave us, PTA? Will I go back and watch your movies again? Will your style eventually serve the film instead of yourself? Who's to say. Probably not. But I will take some measure of comfort in the fact that you appear to appreciate Network as much as I do. You can't be all bad.

Yours, grudgingly,
J.J.


Get away from her, you bitch!