Let­ters to Leo

Wednes­day 21 Jan­u­ary, 1998

Oh Leo!!!

Last night was the Lon­don pre­mière of Titan­ic in Leices­ter Square. I was so excit­ed that you were com­ing to my town. Ever since Romeo + Juli­et, your sen­si­tiv­i­ty has over­whelmed me like an apothecary’s potion. You tend to play wound­ed peo­ple. I cry for them and wor­ship you for bring­ing them to life with pow­er and nuance. I feel like your char­ac­ters are real and I’m real­ly con­nect­ed to this slip of a man with dra­mat­ic eye­brows and flaw­less­ly serene fea­tures. When I have sleep­overs with my friends, I’m allowed to rent videos from Block­buster and always cam­paign for your films. So far I’ve seen: The Bas­ket­ball Diaries, This Boy’s Life, What’s Eat­ing Gilbert Grape and The Quick and the Dead. You’re so emo­tion­al in your per­for­mances and espe­cial­ly good at cry­ing. I’m emo­tion­al, too. I wish you could know me like I know you.

My plan was to come down to the Titan­ic pre­mière and see you. Per­haps you’d notice me as you walked past, our eyes would meet across the red car­pet, you’d come over and I’d con­jure up some­thing so pow­er­ful to say that our lives would be for­ev­er inter­laced. I know that makes me sound crazy, like Annie in Stephen King’s ​‘Mis­ery’ (I read a lot. Do you?) I didn’t exact­ly believe that any of this would hap­pen but the mere thought of it brought tears of joy to my eyes. But then my mum wouldn’t let me go!!! She said I was too young – as if age means any­thing to feel­ings. I cried for hours, mourn­ing our love from beneath my Romeo + Juli­et poster. Maybe our paths will cross again some day.

All my love,
Sophie xox­ox­oxo

Thurs­day 16 Novem­ber, 2006

Dear­est Leonardo,

It’s great that Mar­tin Scors­ese has fol­lowed mil­lions of admir­ing fans and fall­en for your charms. I’m excit­ed to see your career progress with such dis­cern­ment. You’re nev­er over-exposed. You choose a peach role, give it your all, then move on, but not with too much speed. It’s clear that you’re enjoy­ing the perks of an A‑list lifestyle *wink wink*.

For a while I con­tin­ued to loy­al­ly watch every­thing you were in. I watched Celebri­ty and was dis­ap­point­ed to find that you had such a small part. I don’t quite know why you stopped being the most excit­ing aspect of my cin­e­ma-going expe­ri­ence, but I do believe that the heart must go on. As you are a sym­bol of a qual­i­ty films, I’m keep­ing up, and with each per­for­mance am flushed with pride. You’re like a plucky kit­ten that has grown into a big cat with glossy capa­ble mus­cles – for dra­ma and com­e­dy! The Beach, The Avi­a­tor and The Depart­ed are all under my belt. But I’m sav­ing what I hope to be the best till last: Catch Me If You Can.

Steven Spielberg’s rol­lick­ing caper looks to be the per­fect show­case for your twinkly-eyed, sil­ver-tongued, light-fin­gered, Romeo-on-the-run rou­tine. You’re a 28-year-old play­ing a high-school stu­dent play­ing a 28-year-old – a helix of imper­son­ation that suits you to a tee. Right now, you’re at this fas­ci­nat­ing junc­ture between teen heart­throb and man of the world. It’s the per­fect time to play a con artist whose job is made easy by the fact that every­one he meets, after he starts role-play­ing, wants a piece of him. I bet you enjoyed that role and rel­ished the fact that we have no way of know­ing where Frank ends and you begin.

Yours fond­ly,
Sophie x

Tues­day 12 Jan­u­ary, 2016

Dear Mr DiCaprio,

You remain a con­sis­tent­ly mag­net­ic per­former. You nev­er phone it in. Direc­tors who are lucky enough to have you as their lead­ing man must watch char­ac­ters com­ing alive in ways that they nev­er dared to dream. But, if I may be so bold, are you play­ing it safe, pres­tige art-house style? Just as you have a type when it comes to romance (young, blonde, a mod­el) you have a type when it comes to direc­tors (old, male, a name). No doubt you will find it impu­dent that I am wad­ing into your per­son­al affairs like this!

But if you’re still read­ing, Leo – my dear, dar­ling, vir­tu­oso Leonar­do – I implore you, take a chance! Your name alone could get a film made. Scors­ese doesn’t need you, Clint East­wood doesn’t need you, Baz Lurhmann doesn’t need you, Ale­jan­dro González Iñár­ritu doesn’t need you. And shall I tell you what you don’t need? A shiny gold stat­uette. You don’t need to eat a fuck­ing bison heart for them, babe. Eat one to please your­self, by all means, but not for peer approval. You are an excep­tion­al tal­ent and his­to­ry will see you that way. Fuck trin­kets when you already have the pow­er to draw mil­lions of eyes to inter­est­ing, mar­gin­alised, pro­found material.

You don’t play losers any­more. You play rugged anti-heroes that gen­er­al­ly suf­fer from a posi­tion of priv­i­lege, rich­es and swag­ger­ing cap­i­tal­ist alpha male val­ues. J Edgar wield­ed great pow­er, dit­to Calvin Can­die, Jay Gats­by and nat­u­ral­ly, your wolf of Wall Street. Hugo Glass starts The Revenant as a vul­ner­a­ble fig­ure but his arc is basi­cal­ly the emer­gence of a car­i­ca­ture of vengeance-obsessed mas­culin­i­ty. The last time you took a chance on a com­plex nobody of a char­ac­ter for an unknown direc­tor was in 2001 for Don’s Plum, a film you have capa­bly sought to bury. I tracked it down, Leo. The writer of said film, Dale Wheat­ley, is on a mis­sion to ​‘free Don’s Plum’. I found that plum and I tast­ed it. The film is a fail­ure but an inter­est­ing one.

I won­der where you might go from here. At 41 you’re essen­tial­ly in your prime. Decades of reward­ing cre­ative work and dis­cov­ery lay ahead, if you want it. Please, Leo, take a risk on a small­er, more per­son­al films; col­lab­o­rate with unproven but promis­ing tal­ent. Play weird under­dogs and imbue them with a vital­i­ty that is your own. It’s your true gift.

Sin­cere­ly,
Sophie