People occasionally ask me what I would do if I ran into James Van Der Beek at a party, or in a bar: how I would react at the sight, in the flesh, of the man for whom I've coined so many cruel forehead-related nicknames; whether I would hold my ground or run away in shame. After perusing a copy of the Flaunt article about young Van Der Beek, at last I have an answer for these people. If I ran into James Van Der Beek, I would tell him in a very gentle and serious tone of voice to bloody well get over himself.
I will say in Van Der Beek's defense that the Flaunt piece is written about as well as an entry on "Dawson's Desktop" -- that is to say, not well-written at all, nor properly copy-edited (the author, one Robert Ellsworth, manages to bungle the capitalization of Van Der Beek's name several times). Van Der Beek comes off like a pretentious ass, but part of the blame for that belongs to Ellsworth, who mentions immediately that the Dawson's Creek star is drinking "Patron -- the kind of tequila you hold for special occasions," as though painting Van Der Beek as a hard-drinking aesthete will kick him up a few notches in our esteem. Just a few paragraphs later, Ellsworth is reduced to a quivering, star-struck heap by his subject's alleged maturity: "[A]lthough I'm nearly fifteen years his senior, his sang-froid and sagacity make me feel like one of those post-pubescent kids that populate Capeside High." Enough like one of those kids, apparently, to throw around ill-considered three-syllable words without heed to their correct use. As I might say in a recap, "'Sagacity'? Shut up, Ellsworth." And it just gets worse. The reader must watch Ellsworth flounder along, blinded by fame, as he describes Van Der Beek's "calm self-assurance," his "high-voltage focus with a laid-back demeanor," his "curiously humble attitude," and his -- get this -- "concomitant clat." What in the name of Christ does "concomitant clat" even mean?
But enough about Ellsworth's unfortunate addiction to the thesaurus function in MS Word; enough about Ellsworth's compulsion to describe the "Ecstasy-blitzed models" doing the bump-and-grind in front of Van Der Beek, and enough about the numerous references to things Van Der Beek told Ellsworth "off the record," which Ellsworth would love to tell us, but can't, because Van Der Beek values his privacy. Enough about Ellsworth.
Okay, one more thing about Ellsworth: Ellsworth's writing stinks.
All righty, then. Let's move on, shall we? Let's talk about the man himself: James Van Der Beek. Let's talk about how vastly he differs from Dawson. Well, for one thing, Van Der Beekokay, I'll start over. Unlike the character he plays, Van Der Beekscratch that. Van Der Beek doesn'toh, the hell with it. Most of the things we despise in Dawson also exist in Van Der Beek, in spades. The false modesty, the pretensions to great art, the great seriousness with which he takes himself -- all Van Der Beek hallmarks.
Do Not Flaunt What You Haven't Got
After this outburst, the models dance in front of Van Der Beek. Whatever. Then Van Der Beek asks Ellsworth not to talk about his relationship with his girlfriend Heather, because "'I want my relationship to be my own private thing. I don't even talk about most of this with my family or distant friends, so why share it with the public.'" Well, it's not like "the public" really wants to dwell on the idea that you get laid, Fab Five Foreheady, but I bet your family and friends will really enjoy reading that you keep secrets from them. And shut up. And Heather? Run away!
A quick interlude from Ellsworth describing Van Der Beek's voice thusly: "Sexy, low, lulling, it commands attention." Yes, yes it does. Medical attention. A not-as-mercifully-brief snippet from Van Der Beek about how he loves the anonymity of New York, a city which, if he moved here, would eat his suburban ass alive. Then Van Der Beek "reluctantly" shares the information that he spent the morning working an children-with-AIDS benefit, averring that "'I don't do that sort of thing for good press. I do it for the kids.'" Right. Because your mentioning it, and then making a point of un-mentioning it, means you don't want any attention drawn to it. Hey, you convinced me. Except for the "convinced" part. And the "me" part. Van Der Beek goes on to talk about how money has changed his life, and then to analyze his motivations for acting; this portion of the article contains fascinating insights from Van Der Beek such as "'[h]uman beings are so fascinating.'" Then he talks a bit about his seduction by an older woman, and in order to spare the intestinal tracts of us all, I won't go any further on that topic. But, in case any food remains in your stomach, our hero's inspirations should take care of that posthaste: "'Human beings achieving something beyond what is expected. Spiritual revelations or scientific accomplishments. Huge, dramatic feats that change people's lives. Heroic acts inspire me.'" Mmmm. Very impressive, James -- I see you can read the back of a Microsoft Encarta box.
Ellsworth asks Van Der Beek what he'd change in his life if he could, and of course Van Der Beek wants the power to become invisible and anonymous -- as well he should, in my opinion. When Ellsworth inquires as to how he'd like to be remembered in a hundred years, Van Der Beek New-Agily replies that he doesn't think it's "'healthy'" to think about that, preferring to, and I quote, "'live in the now.'" Oh, my holy god -- if he were any fuller of himself, he'd turn inside out. But before I can tell him to shut up one last time, Ellsworth sneaks in another question, this one involving Van Der Beek's outlook on life reduced to five words. Van Der Beek's hideously self-important response: "'Love, listen, learn, don't judge. And don't be a fucking hypocrite.'" Well said, James. Why not take your own advice and button your lip? We all saw the photos that accompanied this blowjob masquerading as an article, and maybe it worked for Jessica Biel, but the Cinemax approach to changing your image won't work -- especially when you're every bit as much an arrogant, off-putting prat as the character you claim to want your freedom from.
Bloody well get over yourself, James.