Open Letter to Craig Ferguson

Dear Mr. Ferguson:

I'm just now settling into your landmark episode with Stephen Fry. The one with no audience, and no other guests. I've listened to your monologue and I want to comment a bit.

I remember in the glory days of talk shows, the excitement of watching The Mike Douglas Show, with his round panel of guests. Or how my parents used to make Johnny Carson their Must See TV. And Tom Snyder, whom you mentioned, always seemed to be very interesting, with interesting guests.

Somehow the art of the talk show, the late night variety anyway, has devolved into some kind of bizarre game show schtick. Funny bits that used to be on the "variety" shows seem to dominate. The "talking" is mostly pre-rehearsed and for someone selling something. It's a bit too formulaic and predictable.

For the record, I hated Craig Kilbourn, and his sophomoric take on the talk show. I never ever watched his show.

But I started watching yours almost immediately. I was, and have continued to be, enchanted by the cheeky monkeys and the puppets and the brazen honesty that you bring to this late-night landscape. I was well into the pace of watching you with pleasure every night when that upstart Fallon came on the scene. And, I have to admit, I was swayed at first into watching him. He seemed to be very astute with the Mac and iPhone and the tech-savvy crowd, of which I am a part.

Then, he branched off into comedy set pieces and too many lame audience games and REALLY bad musical guests, so I've fallen off watching him. Never really liked Leno much. It feels like his time is past (a long time ago), and after the shabby way that NBC treated Conan (another flavor that I only perused occasionally), I can't watch Leno ever again.

But, to me, it always seems like you're struggling. The struggle seems to be what you know in your heart to be a good show, versus what the standard format of a late night show is, or what CBS censors tell you, or whatever. The times when you've hit the show out of the park is when you follow your heart and do what you want to do with it.

I, for one, am glad that you got away from the lame comedy skits and "remotes" from somewhere they are not. The new reality (at least the one I know on the Web) is about honesty and authenticity, and that seems like somewhere you could really excel.

What you have over Fallon, well aside from your dashing good looks and big one, is the art of the urbane and literate. I was (and continue to be) thrilled when you put in the surrealist Dali as a regular bit. It was such a wonderful innovative bit of television, and one area that no one else really covers.

The best interviews you do are with guests who interest you. But with all the hoo-ha that is also going on, you have time to ask about three questions before you have to get to the next guest or next musical act or next signoff. I personally would much rather you have a guest for an entire show, and do whatever you want with them.

Mind you, not every guest is as interesting as Stephen Fry. But there have been many, many times in the past where I've really wished you could talk to someone longer.

Even the people who do have "talking" shows: Larry King, or Joy Behar (as you mentioned), or Charlie Rose, still seem like they are constrained to a format, all official and strained. You and your guests have always felt like you are sitting in your living room, chatting. That's awesome.

In fact, in my dream world of the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, I would LOVE to have no warm-up comedian, no audience even. Just you and the guest. You, released from that crazy constraint of suit and tie, dressed in shirt and jeans, or whatever you're comfortable in, kicking back in a big leather armchair.

Maybe you could have one day a week with the boring guests and the musical acts and the audience.

But what a treasure a regular show with no audience, no schtick, no nothing but talking would be.

Most of all though, I am a loyal audience member of yours. I know others who feel the same way. I think everyone would say: Follow your dreams for your own show. Do it before you get bored. Break new ground. Let Tom Snyder live again. Or, even better, let YOU live with your passion.

Be honest and real and unscripted. (Don't even waste the damn cards.) People know the difference between pre-arranged schtick and actual talking.

It is a new world. Late night television needs to keep up. NBC is a mess. Letterman is happy with his format. Be happy with yours, and it will make us happy. Even if that means changing it completely.

Whatever that means to you, we'll keep up and we'll enjoy it. (Love the Spanish word of the day, btw.) Engage our minds with literacy. Delve into scientists and inventors and whoever it is that makes you interested, not just the latest actor or actress to plug their movies. More authors! Whoever. Whatever nobodies you want to interview. Be honest, be real, we'll follow. Trust your instincts. Trust your audience. We are there for you.

Oh, and I am glad that you finally got on Twitter. Love ya!

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On Humility, or an Open Letter to Mo'Nique

Dear Mo'Nique:

I heard about your recent refusal to appear at all these award shows coming up, even though you are nominated.

http://goldderby.latimes.com/

You stomp and scream and cry, demanding that you didn't get paid enough for the film, and if you have to traipse to all these things, you wanna get paid for it. And you know, it's an understandable request.

But let me just school you for a minute in the way things work in Hollywood, since you don't really seem to get it. And, in the spirit of your character in Precious (and no, I'm not adding the damn pretentious title after it), let me be straight-up and honest about it. Brutally honest.

Here's what it is. You may think, as an actress, that the goal is the work, to get a deeply moving role, blah blah. That may be true. However, the reality is also that in the overall scheme of things, NOTHING and I mean NOTHING, that you do: no talk show, no other role, no stage work, no nothing will help your career and image in the industry as much as winning an Academy Award.

This should be obvious, apparently it isn't to you.

Every time after that, in every ad, every magazine article, every everything, it's going to say: Oscar-winning actress Mo'Nique in big, bold letters. Just let that sink into your brain for awhile.

Because here's the thing. Here's the reason I'm writing this letter to you. THAT IS within your grasp. Right now, with this role in Precious, you nearly have the gold plate inscribed. I promise you.

BUT to get from here to there, there are a lot of steps along the way. And tantrumy diva behaviour might hold up, even for this role. Might. Right now, from where I stand, it looks like you're on a crash course to self-destruction.

So maybe you don't really get the Hollywood scene. Trust me with this too, this is the closest you are ever gonna get to this gold. People have a once-in-a-lifetime shot at this usually, and this is yours. So listen well.

You may've previously played the actress game, which involves auditioning, and getting roles, and doing those roles. Etc. This awards-show circuit is a whole other side of the Hollywood machinery.

Here is how it is properly played, for those skilled and in the know. And you can choose to ignore this advice, but trust me, sister, this right now is your shot. I'm saving you years of learning.

With a powerhouse role like this, the award accolades start coming in early. You get nominated at everything from the New York Critics Circle to the Golden Globes, if you're lucky. The BAFTAs. The LA Critics. And the more of these you choose to go to, and smile and nod, and accept your award, the more a part of the industry you will appear. Those IN the industry will say to themselves, she's not a crazy diva actress. She's a respected actress and we want to give her an Oscar for that, because she is playing our game. And further down the line, they will HIRE you because they remember that you were the one winning all the awards.

All those uphill battles you've been fighting as an actress go away because you become a known quantity in their minds. Now, you may jump up and down, screaming about what a great actress you already are, and while that may be true, Terrence Howard had it exactly right. You may have won over your friends, family and fans. Those aren't the people who get you JOBS.

Right now, just the bad press you have already have about this matter may have derailed any respect you might've had in the industry (talk show be damned; this fiasco is the PR version of Britney shaving her head). It may just be too late. I don't think so. I think you still have time to salvage it, if you suck it up and start acting with some humility going forward.

Here's what you have to do, immediately, if not sooner. Get your publicist all over the Internet putting out this fire. Saying instead, Oh no, Mo'Nique would love to appear at your awards event. Go there, say not one word about money, smile, nod, pick up your award. Rinse, repeat. Over and over. Like it's one of those magic walkways they have at airports. The momentum in place will just push you through it.

And if you keep doing it, I promise you, there is an Oscar at the other end. Did you know that an actress's fee goes up significantly if she has won an Oscar? And the FIRST role you do after winning an Oscar you can pretty much cherry pick? That is there waiting for you.

Having lots of money may be your goal. It may be your only goal. You may not care about "the art." You may not care about the respect of your peers. But if you do, SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP right now, and do this. Without complaint. Without requests for additional payment. The payment comes in the roles you get later. And the doors that will be opened for you. When in the future, it's between you and another actress for a role, you'll ALWAYS have the "well, she won an Oscar" card to play.

You seem like a smart woman, Mo'Nique. Fix this PR travesty right now. Do the awards circuit. And if, for whatever reason, you choose not to, I sure hope that Academy voters remember Samantha Morton's name as an alternative. At least SHE gets it.