Please stop stealing my dad’s look, Steve.
At some point last year, Steve Carell developed the ability to effortlessly turn me into a sobbing waterfall. I can’t help it. It started with Last Flag Flying, Richard Linklater’s 2017 Vietnam veteran road-trip dramedy. I never actually saw Last Flag Flying, but I remember distinctly the first time I saw a promo photo for it.
Wait a second, I thought. Is that Steve Carell, Emmy-nominated star of The Office? Or is that my dad?
For almost two decades, I led an innocent, oblivious life. I saw Anchorman and Evan Almighty and plenty of episodes of The Office. And I never once considered that, if he grew a mustache, Steve Carell would look exactly like my dad.
But grow a mustache he did, and I was forced to accept that yes, Steve Carell looks like my dad. And now every time I see him in a movie, or a television show, or a movie trailer, I tear up! Because I love my dad! This is simply not fair. I am formally demanding that Mr. Carell stand down.
Now, strictly speaking, Steve Carell was born about a year before my dad. So I understand that he may object to the premise here and claim that, in fact, it is my dad who looks like Steve Carell, and not vice versa.
But here are the facts: For years, Steve Carell went clean-shaven. He did not wear hardy winter coats or cozy sweaters. And then, all of a sudden, Steve Carell must have seen a photograph of my dashing, heroic firefighter of a father and said to himself, “Hm. I should make some style changes.” There is simply no other explanation.
Admittedly, I have no proof of this. I also have no have proof of my firm belief that every article of clothing Steve Carell wears in Last Flag Flying was taken from the personal wardrobe of my father, but you’re just going to have to take my word for it. My dad owns that jacket! Or he used to, before Oscar nominee Steve Carell stole it.
I am begging you, Mr. Carell. Please end this. I found your performance in Beautiful Boy arresting and understated, but I also cannot objectively evaluate the film because every time you told your son you loved him I was consumed with raw emotion. I miss my dad, and your shameless appropriation of his sense of style is affecting my ability to do my job, sir.
This fell plague is even spreading to movies in which Steve does not shamelessly impersonate my dad. In the upcoming Welcome to Marwen, Mr. Carell plays a victim of a hate crime who copes by creating a terrifying dream universe where he can pretend he is making out with Barbie dolls. The character is clean-shaven and does not resemble my dad, but because Carell has cruelly manipulated me into a Pavlovian response, I cry every time I see the trailer anyway! I don’t like this trailer! I don’t want to think about my dad when I see creepy CGI Barbie-doll Steve Carell making out with a different Barbie doll!
At this point, there is only one solution: Steve Carell must temporarily retire from acting, and allow my dad to take back his place as the only person in my life who looks like my dad. Edit him out of Vice and replace him with real footage of Donald Rumsfeld or something. I don’t want to cry during Vice. Please. I am begging you, Steve. Give me my life back. Set my family free from this prison of your creation!