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Oh, Reese. We'd thought we'd lost you.
Let's go all the way back to 1996's Freeway, a surprisingly twisted and sadistic update of Little Red Riding Hood that cast you as the fair maiden (escaped from juvie hall, if we recall correctly, and pretty handy with a blade) and a sniveling Kiefer Sutherland as Mr. Wolverton, the creepy pedophile on your tail, in every sense of the word. Sure, the movie wasn't great, but, boy oh boy, you certainly were.
Then came Fear, then Pleasantville, then Cruel Intentions, then Election -- Election! In which, as the cheery/creepy Tracy Flick, who acted a bit like an android who'd been whacked upside the head, you proved yourself to be a very valuable commodity: beautiful, Southern-charming, yet with ice under your nails and chops to spare.
Then came Legally Blonde. At which point you proved yourself to be another kind of valuable commodity.
Hey, we liked it as much as everyone else. You've got to watch something on your hotel pay-per-view. But we worried, Reese. We fretted that maybe that was it. We'd lost you forever to bubbly romantic comedies and $18 million paydays. And you did little to assuage these fears when you made Sweet Home Alabama, which was basically a song title and a trailer.
And then you made Legally Blonde 2: Extreme Blondage...oops, we mean Red, White and Blonde. Then Just Like Heaven, a kind of we've-lost-you two-for-one, with both you and Mark Ruffalo. So, essentially, Ms. Witherspoon, you made the same movie four times in four years. Lucrative, yes. Fun? You tell us.
Sure, you mixed in a few costume dramas -- The Importance of Being Earnest, Vanity Fair -- to keep things respectable. But we didn't want respectable! We wanted Ms. Flick and Mr. Wolverton!
What we've got, now, is a great performance as June Carter Cash, and we'll take it. At least it's not a movie with a song lyric for a title. Er, we mean, at least it's not a movie with a song lyric for a title in which you rediscover the charms of simple country living. Er, we mean...
...we mean, we know you've got college funds to build up and a husband to support. We know the time is right for you to step it up from Bankable Romantic Comedy Star to Serious Oscar Contender. We think, in fact, that you're going to win an Oscar this year, because you're that good in Walk the Line, and because Hollywood loves coronations and they've got a crown waiting that's just your size. Please. Be our guest. But then, here's what you should do next.
Resist the temptation to do an action movie. Resist, too, the temptation to do a dull but worthy social activism film in an attempt to snag another prize. Get yourself hooked up with Michel Gondry and Charlie Kaufman, and do what you can to get in their next film. You've already got an in with Alexander Payne: Get yourself cast opposite Paul Giamatti in something. Do a film in which you're neither (a) from the South, or (b) wearing a corset.
In short, don't regard $18 million paydays as the end of the interesting indie phase of your career, but rather as the subsidy to keep doing just that kind of interesting film. Pretty please.
Trust us, you can do it. You can -- wait for it - walk the line! Between indies and mainstream films! (See what we've done there?)
And don't listen to your advisors who say you've got to protect your pristine romantic comedy image. Listen to us -- anonymous people on the internet! Or better yet, at the post-Oscar party, grab George Clooney and listen to him. He'll tell you it's not so hard to turn your back on the bat cowls and Peacemakers and make only films you actually like. Especially once you've got serious bank.
As for your fame, we're going to let it ride. Kind of as if you were Robin Hood, and we caught you with this big bounty, but we knew that, given a little encouragement, you'd put it to virtuous use.
And trust us, your fame level is going to get a little bump in the next few months, once you grab that golden statue. Enjoy it. Take a week off. Then spend the next month figuring out how to make your career a lot more Kate Winslet, and a lot less Kate Hudson.
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