The following Adtastic is presented as a letter written to S. Epatha Merkerson, star of the newest commercial for Uni-Ball pens.

Before I begin the letter, let me present the ad:

And now, let’s begin…

Dear Epatha,

Hey there! It’s Mark Blankenship. Remember? We met at the Eugene O’Neill Theater Center in 2006. I came up to you in the pub and acted like a giddy schoolboy because you are possibly the coolest actor in North America.

Okay… you may not remember that, but I do. I remember because you were so awesome and gracious about my fandom.

And another time you were cool? At last year’s Obie awards for Off Broadway excellence, when you told the crowd that Jonathan Groff, your twentysomething co-presenter, was so fine that he was giving you a hot flash. The way you kept fanning yourself and looking at his butt made me want to leap onstage and give you a Pulitzer Prize.

I mention this as a reference point for your new commercial. No, not the one for blood pressure medication. That one’s fine, if unremarkable. I’m talking about the ad that changed my life. The one that made me put you on an even higher pedestal.

That’s right: I’m talking about your commercial for Uni-Ball pens.

You see, Epatha, for most celebrity spokespeople, this ad would be a disaster. I mean, let’s be serious: I’m worried about many things, but not fussy identity thieves scrubbing the Bic off my personal check.

However, this ad makes it seem like there are weaselly jerks in my living room right now, cackling as they erase “ConEd” off the “Pay to the Order Of” line and replace it with their own names.

The fearmongering begins with the commercial’s first phrase, “In these uncertain times…”, which has become the “Threat Level Orange” of recent months.

The cheap fear continues from there, thanks to ominous shots of a Wall St. sign, the creepy-urgent soundtrack, and lines describing the Uni-Ball pen as “[my] first line of defense.”

And of course, the fear radiates from you, Epatha, even if you don’t intend it to. Most people who see you in this ad will connect you with your portrayal of Lt. Anita Van Buren on Law & Order. The message? “If Lt. Van Buren is telling me there’s a security threat, then there must be! I mean, she shot that retarded kid at the ATM, so I know she wouldn’t give me no mess!”

You can see how this commercial could fail. No disrespect to Sam Waterston, but if he were the spokesperson, he’d probably be so earnest that the ad would be insufferable.

But not you, Epatha! Subtly subverting your L&O persona, you skirt the line between sincerity and mockery. Like when you describe identity thieves as “literally changing what [I] intended.” There’s a whisper of camp in your delivery — an over-emphasis of the word “intended” and a slight bug of the eyes — that suggests you know you’re being silly. (Your director also deserves credit for shooting you from such a crazily skewed angle.)

The camp also comes through when you declare that Uni-Ball ink “won’t come off… ever” and especially when you deliver the tagline, “Why wouldn’t you use a Uni-Ball?” On paper, it’s a simple question, but from you, it’s a saucy reproach. It’s the sound of your hand getting planted on your hip.

You’re a great actor, Epatha. I’ve seen you play subtle emotion on stage and film, so I know you could have toned this down if you or the director had wanted. But you didn’t tone it down. You chose to give us a wink and smile, like a special code that says, “Hey… It’s just a pen. But buy it anyway, okay?”

I hear the code, Lieutenant, and I thank you for sending it. Please keep being this cool.

Yours,

Mark