A Love Letter To Miles Teller


Fri, July, 25 by


Dear Miles Teller,

I remember the first time I met you. It wasn’t the ideal first meeting but it was memorable. It was 2010. I was in a dark theatre. You met Nicole Kidman in a park to talk about her dead son and parallel universes. I bawled my eyes out. That was Rabbit Hole.

We met again a year later in a different context. You wore overalls and spoke with a back country accent. I gave in to the absurdity and enjoyed every minute. It took me a while to see you through all the layers and remember you as the complex accidental criminal from when we met before. Your co-stars Kenny Wormald and Julianne Hough came to New.Music.Live. You did not. That was Footloose.

Then you almost made me throw-up. This was the low point in our relationship. You partied too hard, you carried another girl on your back and the camera was so shaky I had to close my eyes for half of the time. Your character’s name was Miles Teller. Your co-stars Thomas Mann, Oliver Cooper and Jonathan Daniel Brown came to New.Music.Live. You did not. That was Project X.

I moved on with the help of a small town teenage love story. You worked through your issues as a delinquent party boy and turned in to a young man who had learned to love. I was glad to see you so happy. You two really seemed great together and I was ready to wish the best for you both. That was The Spectacular Now.

But then you tried to kill that same girl in a different movie .

But now you are the edge of glory. The latest trailer for your breakout movie, Whiplash, just came out. Once the world at large sees your award worthiness, there will be nothing to contain your greatness. When you are on red carpets, Ryan Seacrest won’t need his producer in his ear telling him what your name is. He will just know. You will have your own table at Café Gratitude. Or whatever the BBQ equivalent of that is in LA. I feel like you like BBQ.

Wes Anderson will cast you as a schoolyard bully with a heart of gold and a pet turtle. Paul Thomas Anderson will cast you as a single dad private detective who falls in love with a terminally ill stripper. Paul W.S. Anderson will cast you as a space fugitive fighting intergalactic werewolves.

For now, good luck with Whiplash. Look for me at TIFF. I’ll be screaming your name.