By Keanu Reeves

I am arguably the worst actor alive today. And yet, somehow, I keep getting roles in movie after movie. It just doesn’t make any sense. Why do directors and producers keep casting me? Why do people keep going to movie theatres to watch me? Don’t they realize I suck?

When I first got into acting, I assumed I wouldn’t last very long. I knew I stunk and figured others would quickly see it, too. After my first audition, I walked out thinking, “yeah, I’ll never hear from those people again.” Incredibly, not only did I hear from them again, they offered me a role. I couldn’t believe it. I actually asked the director, “you do realize I stink, right?” The director just looked at me and laughed. “You’re so funny, Keanu.”

I was certain every movie since would be my last. Half way during the filming of Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989), I turned to Alex Winter, my co-star, and asked, “what are you going to do after we finish this movie…I was thinking about going to night school.” Somehow, the movie was a huge hit. And, ironically, after we finished shooting the sequel a few years later, Alex fell off the face of the earth and was never heard from again. I was sure I’d follow the same fate, but somehow I kept getting work.

Dracula. I was going to be working with a famous director, an Academy Award winning actor in Anthony Hopkins, respected actors like Gary Oldman and Winona Ryder…the list went on and on. “Surely,” I thought to myself, “people will see how awful I truly am in this movie.” Somehow, no one noticed. The next year, that nut Kenneth Branagh cast me in Much Ado About Nothing. Shakespeare. They cast me, Keanu Reeves, in a Shakespear movie. Were they insane? That same year, I was cast as a Tibetan monk in Little Buddha. Casting me to portray Muhammad Ali would have made about as much sense.

I thought I finally had the movie that would end the insanity with 1994’s Speed. An insane plot, a first time director, an unknown co-star named Sandra Bullock, and Dennis Hopper, a borderline psychotic, as the villian. I couldn’t believe it – the movie was box office gold. I was more popular than ever. It took a series of absolutely awful movies – Johnny Mnemonic, Chain Reaction, Feeling Minnesota, The Devil’s Advocate – before people finally started to realize how truly awful I was at everything I did. But then I was cast in The Matrix.

The Matrix was the most ridiculous script I had ever read. Virtually every other actor between the ages of 20 and 45 had passed on it. The writers and directors, who were brothers, were complete unknowns. Laurence Fishburne, who had almost reached the point where he was going to have to do sitcom cameos on The WB, was the co-star. Add to all that my truly awful acting ability and the movie was sure to be a huge failure. Two sequels and a gagillion dollars later and I’m still shaking my head wondering how it was so successful.

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that no matter what I do, directors are going to keep casting me in movies and, no matter how bad those movies, people are going to keep going to theatres to watch them. A buddy cop movie where my partner is a chimp? Audiences will eat it up. A western where I star as a small town sheriff and Owen Wilson is a wise-cracking outlaw? They’ll demand a sequel. A romantic drama where Sandra Bullock and I live in the same house two years apart, but we’re able to communicate via a magic mailbox capable of time travel? It’s already made $50 million.

Seriously, what is wrong with all you people? Can’t you see I stink?