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A rather curious event occured recently in the career of Ben Affleck -- an event that happened with little fanfare, yet one that marked a peculiar shift in young Mr. Affleck's fortunes. In the March issue of Vanity Fair, in a special all-Hollywood edition of their new monthly "In & Out" column, in a category entitled 'It Affleck,' Ben was pegged as the 'Out' Affleck, while his younger brother, Casey, was crowned the 'In' Affleck. What was notable -- even momentous -- about this moment is that it marks officially the devolution of Affleck the Older from the status of underdog to that of, well, overdog. Whereas Ben Affleck was previously regarded as the less-heralded, scrappier half of the Matt Damon-Ben Affleck (or "Daffleck") duo, he's now becoming known as the more-heralded, crappier half of the Brothers Affleck (or "Broffleck") duo. All of which is, perhaps, undeserved, if not entirely unexpected. Affleck has been the benificiary of an alarmingly rapid, media-fueled rise, and, as such, may find himself the victim of an equally rapid, media-fueled fall.
We should say here that we've always kind of liked Ben Affleck. Partly because, of the Daffleck duo, he was the one who wasn't on the cover of Vanity Fair in a bubble bath; who didn't take the showy, look-at-me role in Good Will Hunting; who was pretty funny in Chasing Amy, and who managed to hold his own against Bruce Willis and exploding space shuttles in Armageddon, and who was also pretty damn likable in Forces of Nature. Ben Affleck is not, and has never been, a good actor. But he's exhibited the makings of a good, maybe great, movie star.
No one seems more surprised about this than he is, which is a big part of the problem. At his best, Affleck is an endearing everyguy, managing an easy-going brand of cocksure charm. At his worst (and increasingly of late), his everyman schtick mutates into a bemused smugness, where you half expect him to turn to the camera in every scene and say, "Look at me -- I'm in a movie! Can you believe I'm doing this? Look at this crazy Armani suit/sheriff's badge/astronaut outfit they've got me dressed up in!" He's like Ferris Bueller's country bumpkin cousin -- a guy who's achingly aware of the camera's presence at all time, and can't help winking at the audience to make sure they're still paying attention.
Affleck, the Regular Guy, has never seemed at ease with his movie star persona, either on screen or off. This may partly explain why he does goofy things like pen an ill-advised article for Premiere in which he laments the fact that he comes off in interviews as "a frat-boy chucklehead," then goes on to concoct a conversation between "Actual Ben" and "Interview Guy" -- his own conception of his media persona. (Actual Ben: "I tend to be able to look past first impressions and am usually attracted to a woman who I like and want to be around." Interview Guy: "And, you know, her beaver doesn't have to be shaved but...I don't mind it!" Fametracker: "None of this was a good idea. None of it.") Or why, in the same article, he talks longingly of shielding himself from the prying rigours of the promotion tour and about his admiration for the enigmatic Sean Penn -- all of this from the man who founded www.affleck.com. It may also explain why, when he appeared on Politically Incorrect, he acted so giddy and pleased with himself for being there (on a show that rarely lands anyone who could be called a "movie star," usually contenting itself with screwball radio hosts and women from The View) that he squirmed and squealed through the entire half hour like he was Bill Maher's pre-teen younger brother, hanging out with the high school kids in the rec room. It may also explain why he whines about the intrusions of the gossip-hungry public, yet pulls irritating, you-know-that-I-know-that-you-know stunts like popping up on SNL when Gwyneth Paltrow is hosting. The boy is, in a word, conflicted. This conflict is no doubt heartfelt and genuine, but it's about as fun to watch as a train wreck.
It's instructive to watch Giovanni Ribisi roar past Affleck in the recent Boiler Room like a flame-spewing drag racer passing a guy pushing a shopping cart. Ribisi has had an R.E.M. kind of career -- slowly building his credibility and his renown like parallel rails of a train track. Ben Affleck, on the other hand, has had a Counting Crows kind of career -- too much, too fast, too soon. This isn't his fault, but it is his problem.
We're not your manager. We don't know how to fix all this. Maybe you should put on an eyepatch, play a villian, do something small (and when you do, don't let them tout your two-minute cameo in the trailer, like you're Marlon Brando or something), and, most importantly, stop associating yourself with articles entitled "Who the Hell Does Ben Affleck Think He Is? by Ben Affleck." We're not saying you don't, and won't, deserve the fame some day. Maybe someday soon. But for now, let's put some back, for everyone's sake.
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