Random Reminiscing: Looking Back at My Many Random Roles Interviews (Part 29 of Quite a Few)
Featuring anecdotes from Joe Morton, Frankie Faison, Wes Studi, Harry Lennix, Saul Rubinek, and Don Cheadle
Back in 2021, when I celebrated the 10th anniversary of my first Random Roles, I was feeling a tad nostalgic, so I decided that I wanted to start looking back at my contributions to this A.V. Club feature, since it’s the portion of my freelance career of which I’m most proud.
If you accidentally missed the previous part of this reminiscing (and you may have, because it was in 2021!), you can check it out by clicking right here…and if you missed the part before that, well, each installment has a link to the previous installment in the intro, so just keep on clicking back until you’ve read ‘em all!
If you’re all up to date, though, then for heaven’s sake, why are you wasting time with this intro? Just dive right in!
Joe Morton:
Grady (1975-1976)—“Hal Marshall”
Joe Morton: Grady was an interesting experience. It’s the only... Well, it’s not the only one, but it’s one of the few experiences I’ve had doing sitcoms. It was also interesting in terms of the time, in that when we did the pilot for Grady, the character that I played was a college professor who was teaching history. By the time we actually got down to shooting the series, they’d changed it, because the audience at that time thought it was unbelievable for a black man to be a professor at a college. So they changed it to a high school phys ed teacher, which just in itself I thought was an interesting statement on how mainstream America viewed black people on television.
What was worse was that the writers, as it turns out, were simply regurgitating scripts that they’d already written for other family-oriented sitcoms. I mean, literally, word for word. I was surfing the channels one day and came across... I don’t remember what the series was, but it was one with lots of kids in it, and I witnessed a script that we had just finished shooting. Word for word.
Then what happened after that... Now, this was supposed to be a spin-off of Sanford And Son, and that had its own complications, which I’ll go into next. But the way to do that would’ve been to put us right after Sanford And Son, which the network did not do because another big-name actor wanted that spot and said that if he didn’t get that spot, he would never work for that network again. So they put us in a graveyard spot and, of course, we died after six episodes.
Now, for me, that was very happy news, because I was completely unhappy working on that show. I just thought it was a lie from beginning to end, and it was unfortunate circumstances. But it was a lesson. Another lesson was that we asked why they didn’t have black writers come on the show, and they said there were no black people who knew how to write for television. It was that period of time where the kinds of things that needed to be done were not being done. So I was glad for the experience... and I was very glad when it was over!
How was Whitman Mayo to work with?
Whitman was terrific. The reason Whitman had gotten that job in the first place was because, if you remember, Redd Foxx was going through that thing where he wouldn’t show up for work because there were no windows in his dressing room. [Laughs.] So Whitman had basically taken over Sanford And Son while Redd was out. And when Redd came back, it was Whitman’s managers who said, “Now that he’s helped you out, you should help him out by giving him his own series.” And the network did not want to do that in the first place, but his managers kept arm-twisting and they finally gave him a series, and what I described to you a minute ago was what happened. So there was never any real true support for the series.
By the way, not only did I get a chance to work with Whitman—which was terrific, because Whitman had a band that he managed, so I worked with them for awhile—but I got to work with Carole Cole, who was Nat King Cole’s niece.
Did you ever actually get to work with Redd Foxx? I know he did one episode of the show.
He came in for the pilot, I believe. And he only came in because there was some conversation in there, a line where we’re talking about Redd’s character, and I asked to be able to say something to the effect of, “Oh, that’s right, that’s Grady’s ace-boon-coon.” And the network went crazy and said, “No, no, you can’t say that!” And I said, “No, I can say that. You can’t say that.” [Laughs.] And then they actually went to Redd and said, “What does this mean?” And Redd told them, as I had told them, that it just means his best friend, and there was some talk back and forth, and... I mean, that series was a mess from the time it started to the time it ended!
Frankie Faison:
Ragtime (1981)—“Gang Member No. 1”
Frankie Faison: Wow. I mean, that was my first major film, and to do it with the late, great legendary James Cagney—among other people, but especially with him—I couldn’t believe my lucky stars. And to film it in London, England, at Shepperton Studios? It was like I’d struck gold. I’d loved the book, and the story is a phenomenal one about a black man demanding respect and trying to uphold the dignity that is his birthright. It was just an honor to do that, like I had just landed into the most amazing situations, and to have that on my résumé, I am just so proud. And plus, like I say, I got to see England for two and a half months, to just be there and explore it and the history that’s involved. That was special.
Not only was it early in your career, but one of your other gang members was Samuel L. Jackson.
Yep, Sam was one of my partners. And Milos Forman was one of the msot intelligent, sweet, and kind directors, so to have him that early in my film career, it was amazing. And like you said, you look at the cast of that film, there are a bunch of heavyweights from beginning to middle to end. And I recommend anyone seeing it just to get a slice of that history, because it’s very important.
You mentioned Cagney right off the bat. Did you get a chance to meet him?
We did! One day the fellas and I... This stands out in my memory as one of my favorite phrases, and I use it myself all the time. We bumped into him in line in the lunchroom, and we said, “Hello, Mr. Cagney, what a great honor,” and so on. So he says to us, “How are you boys?” We said, “We’re great. We’re doing very well.” And he looked up with a little twinkle in his eye, and he said, “Yeah, well, keep it that way!” I mean, it was just so James Cagney! I said, “Wow, this is great!”
And then Cagney also imparted to us the fact that when he was a young actor—because this was the last film that he did, and he was really up there in age—he said, “You young guys, you youngsters, you go out there now and you’re running and chasing. I used to do that. But now I’m of the age where I just sit back in the office and say, ‘Go get ’em, boys!’” And now, with the long-enough amount of time I’ve been in this industry, I really appreciate that... and whenever I come across youngsters, now I say the same thing: “Go get ’em, boys!”
Wes Studi:
Mystery Men (1999)—“The Sphinx”
Wes Studi: Well, that sometimes gets me into a comic con. [Laughs.] That was my first time in spandex. My first role in spandex and a mask.
And how was that for you?
I really enjoyed that! [Laughs.] And I was working with so many A-list actors and extremely talented people, and the sets—oh, my god, they would blow your mind, some of the sets we were on. It was absolutely amazing to be in a superhero—or a wannabe superhero—type film, and it opened my eyes to what doing comedy was all about. I really enjoyed it. There was a learning curve, but then I discovered again that, yes, the basics are always the same for an actor. Whether you’re in spandex or regular wardrobe or motion-capture wear, you still have to deliver the performance.
When [Mystery Men director] Kinka Usher saw on social media that I was going to be talking to you, he said, “I love Wes. He’s a real gentleman and fun to shoot with.”
[Laughs.] Yeah, he was great! I liked working with Kinka. He’s very open to actors’ input, and I think that’s one of the reasons that film is still a cult classic.
Did you have any conversations with Tom Waits during the course of filming?
To some extent. You know, Tom is not really easy to understand. In a conversation, I mean. [Laughs.]
I absolutely believe you.
Well, if you’ve spoken with him, you know what I’m talking about.
I’ve listened to enough of his songs.
Okay, then you know the growl! [Laughs.] I had a great time with Bill Macy. He was a great actor to work with. All of the guys in the group of wannabe superheroes were great. There were a lot of comedians in that group, of course, and it was kind of an eye-opener as far as seeing how comedy is developed.
Harry Lennix:
The Package (1989)—“Johnny’s Field Soldier”
You mentioned how the roles you did before The Five Heartbeats weren’t terribly substantial, but this one warrants asking about, if only to see if you have a Gene Hackman story.
Harry Lennix: So Gene Hackman… You know, he’s from Danville, Illinois, and so, interestingly enough, are Dick Van Dyke and Jerry Van Dyke. They’re all from this little town. But we were in this scene that was supposed to be really emotional. We had lost one of our soldiers early in the film, and they needed somebody to express emotion, so they picked me. So the director, Andy Davis, said, “Okay, Harry, do this right now. Cry!” And, you know, that was kind of an alarming circumstance, so they rolled… and I didn’t cry!
So Gene Hackman said, “Cut the camera!” And I remember he went up to Andy Davis—he’s a friend of mine, he’s from Chicago, a good guy—and he said, “Goddammit, you want this kid to cry and you don’t give him any kind of preparation?! Give the kid a couple of minutes! Give him some time! Come on!” So Andy said, “Oh, okay, yeah, sure, no problem!” [Laughs.] So we waited, and I thought of something sad, and then we rolled the camera, and this time a good result happened, and I was cool. Andy came over and said, “That’s good, man. That’s good.”
Well, then later when we were at lunch, I said, “Mr. Hackman, I just wanted to say thank you very much.” He said, “Oh, no. You were good, kid!” And then I said, “I’ve always wanted to do this: ‘Do you know why the number two hundred is so vitally descriptive to both you and me? It’s your weight and my I.Q.’” And he said, “What is that? Is that from Superman?” [Laughs.]
He was a completely charming guy. Just a regular guy. I was very honored to be working with him. I’ve always admired him. What a wonderful actor. You look at a movie like Scarecrow, with [Al] Pacino. That’s a scary performance. And The French Connection, when he gets hooked on heroin. He’s got great size, but he’s also got great subtlety. He reminds me a little bit of George C. Scott and a little bit of Burt Lancaster. In fact, he worked with Burt Lancaster in one of his first things, where they played parachutists! It was called The Gypsy Moths, I think. It’s a terrific, grand performance. He plays the hype man who goes into towns before they do their parachute jumps. You should see it sometime if you haven’t.
Those old-timers… Oh, I won’t even call them that. That’s rude. Those traditionalists, those traditional leading men in Hollywood, they were complete ball-breakers. It was interesting when I had a friend who was working on one of Burt Lancaster’s last movies, and he ran into Burt in the elevator, and Burt said, “Who are you?” And my friend said, “I’m a producer.” And Burt said, “Producers. I just had two of ‘em for breakfast!” [Laughs.] Oh, yeah, they use to cause all kinds of hell. They’d stop a scene and direct it themselves if they didn’t like the way it was going. You can’t really do that now, but there was a time when that was all but expected. If you were the star, if you were the driving force of the movie, you were expected to do it.
Saul Rubinek:
Man Trouble (1992)—“Laurence Moncrief”
Unforgiven (1992)—“W.W. Beauchamp”
Saul Rubinek: I was working with Jack Nicholson on a movie called Man Trouble. It was right before my daughter was born. My daughter Hannah, who plays my daughter in Hunters, was born in the middle of shooting Man Trouble. Jack and I became friendly, and he heard I was going to go audition for a film by Clint Eastwood—it wasn’t called Unforgiven yet—and he said, “If you’re gonna audition…” And he gave me some advice. And I took that advice. It was to do something that actors now do as a matter of routine but which was not done in 1991. He recommended that I do my own tape and not to go through a casting office.
Now, I know Jack Nicholson hadn’t auditioned in years, but he knew Clint, and he told me something really interesting. He said, “You’re not gonna meet him.” I said, “Why not?” I mean, I had enough of a reputation at that point where I didn’t have to be screened by a casting director, so I could go right to meeting the director. But sometimes, for whatever reason, if the director wasn’t available, you had to go into a casting office and get put on tape, and then the tapes are sent in. It was not a great process. But it’s never a great process, because you don’t have a chance to do it more than once, maybe twice, and you get a couple of notes. And it’s not beautifully lit, although it might be different now. But now it’s commonplace, obviously, for actors to self-tape themselves because the equipment’s really easy to get. You can do on your iPhone, and it’s probably much better equipment that they had in those days. But in 1991, that was not common.
I said, “Why won’t I meet him?” He said, “Well, I don’t think he meets actors.” But I later found out why he doesn’t meet actors and why he only auditions based on tapes. I did what Jack suggested. I made my own tape of the scene that did more than was required, more than the scenes that they asked for, which was another suggestion from Jack. So partly I owe Jack Nicholson for my getting that role in Unforgiven, because of his advice. It was really great advice! [Laughs.]
I got cast pretty quickly, and when I asked Clint why, he told me, “Your tape stood out.” I told him the Jack Nicholson story. And he said, “Yeah, well, it’s true! All the others looked alike. Yours stood out.” I said, “Great! But why don’t you meet actors? You’re an actor yourself!” And he said, “For that very reason. I can’t say no to people! I’d want to say ‘yes’ to everybody. I know what it’s like to be nervous in an audition. I spent so much of my life auditioning and not getting parts, so I really feel for actors, and I need a distance.” It was really interesting.
And how was the experience of actually working with him as a director?
If he wasn’t a famous face… If you came to the set and knew the sociology of what people do on movie sets, it would take you probably a long time to figure out who the director was. [Laughs.] He has a crew that’s worked with him for many years, so it’s a very quiet, collaborative set. And it’s funny that it was very similar to that only other western I’ve done, which was also a very quiet, collaborative set. But the Coen brothers also work with a crew that they’ve worked with for years. When you trust people and you work with the same professionals over and over again, there’s a shorthand that’s created, and a way of working that operates not only in the field of making movies but also other professions that require collaboration between people and where conflict is kept to a minimum.
So the shooting of that was wonderful, although I have to tell you that… [Hesitates.] We all loved doing it, that’s for sure, but we knew we were doing a movie where Clint was going to end up shooting and killing an unarmed teenage kid. So our favorite phrase was “five people in France.” That’s what we said: “That’s who’s going to end up seeing this movie: five people in France.” [Laughs.] “That should be the title of the film.” Who knew that it was going to be as successful as it was? Of course, we all loved it, but we thought, “I dunno if the public in America is gonna be ready for their hero, Clint Eastwood, to be a bounty hunter who kills an unarmed kid?”
It was such a brilliant script. What I remember about it is that almost nothing was changed. Scripts would end up going out in rainbow colors, each color with a different rewrite date. But our script was all-white pages when we started, and it was all white pages when we finished, meaning that nothing was changed. I got to meet David Peoples, who’d written it in the late ’70s on spec. It was originally bought by Francis Ford Coppola as a project for Francis to direct, but then he didn’t make it for whatever reason, and sold it outright to Clint, who waited himself 10 years until he felt he was old enough to play the role. And when I got to meet David Peoples a couple of years after filming, he told me that he ain’t never had that experience. [Laughs.] Where something that he’d written was just what was onscreen. You can imagine how emotional and amazing that experience was for a screenwriter.
And how was Gene Hackman? People say he’s very intense, but that he’s a nice guy if you don’t get on his bad side.
He’s a great artist. I mean, actually a painter. And he draws. He drew a sketch of me as my character that I have framed here. He was not particularly talkative off-screen. He’s quite a private person, I found. But as soon as the cameras were rolling, he was so present that you immediately had to come up. The bar got raised right away, in terms of your having to be in the moment with him. That’s one of the reasons that I think he won an Oscar. He was hugely prepared.
I’ll give you a Gene Hackman story. A very simple one. The huge dialogue scene that he had to do in the jail scene with me and Richard Harris… That was a weather-cover day. He wasn’t supposed to shoot that scene that day. He was supposed to shoot something else, and then the weather changed, so he couldn’t shoot outside. So everything moved to the jail cell… and Gene had all that stuff ready. That was pretty cool. I mean, he had way more dialogue than me or Richard in the scene. It wasn’t as hard for us to learn our lines one the fly. But he couldn’t have done it on the fly. He had prepared. And he was great. I got to spend some time with him, and eventually I got to hear some great stories, like about how he was Dustin Hoffman’s roommate back in the Pasadena Playhouse days when they were young, struggling actors. So, yeah, it was an honor to work with him. He was great.
And you’d worked with Richard Harris before.
I’d worked with Richard twice before. Yeah, I’ve seen Richard sober, not sober… [Laughs.] But that was the third time I’d worked with him, and he was hilarious to work with. Really fucking funny. I’ll tell you this Richard Harris story. He’d practice his lines, and he’d go, “What do you think, Saul? Should I do it this way? Or should I do it that way? No, listen to this!” And he’d do his lines, and then he’d want some feedback from me. I said, “Richard, you’ve forgotten that I worked with you twice before. I’m going to help you with your lines for the next hour, and by the time we shoot, I’m going to be completely lost, and no one will be able to take their eyes off you. So go fuck yourself. Figure it out all by yourself. I’m not helping you.” [Laughs.] I said, “I know all your tricks!” He just laughed, and he said, “Ah, I should’ve remembered. All right, I’ll go try this on somebody else then!” He was hilarious. And very generous. A great storyteller. A great guy.
Don Cheadle:
Punk (1986)—Actor
Picket Fences (1993-1995)—“D.A. John Littleton”
Devil In A Blue Dress (1995)—“Mouse Alexander”
Don Cheadle: That was quite a role for me. The casting for that was very interesting, because the director, Carl Franklin, when I first met him, he was a directing master student at the American Film Institute, and I was in his thesis movie, called Punk. I don’t even know how old I was when I did that part. Maybe 19 or 20? So when this movie came along, and every actor that I knew in L.A. was auditioning for it, and they were saying, “You gotta get in there, you gotta get in there.” And I was like, “Carl knows me. If he wants me to read for the part, he’ll call me in.” My agent was just adamant that the part was mine: “This is you! Mouse is you!” And I read it, and I didn’t totally see it, but she was adamant. But I couldn’t get in. I couldn’t get an audition. And the process went on for a long time. He had met everybody in New York, everybody in L.A., Chicago, everywhere, but he hadn’t found the person that he wanted yet.
Well, I was at an ENT’s office, and the appointments all got backed up, so the lobby got jammed full of people, and as I was sitting in a chair behind the door, the door swung open and hit me in the legs, and in walks Carl Franklin. And he looked at me momentarily, then he went, “Don!” And I said, “Carl!” And then the receptionist came out into the lobby and said, “There’s too many people in here. You two—,” and she pointed to us, “—go back in that other room over there.” So Carl and I retreated to another little office area, and we just started chopping it up. How are you, how’ve you been, how’s the family, what’s going on. And he said, “You know, I’m directing this movie.” I said, “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard about it.” [Laughs.] He said, “Okay, okay.” And we started talking about other stuff. And then the next day my agent called me and said, “They called! They want to see you.” So I came in and auditioned, and I think that audition is online.
So I did it, we went through it, and at the end of it, he said, “Yeah, man, I just, I don’t know, Don. I don’t know. I don’t see it. You and Denzel, you’re supposed to be contemporaries, and he’s 10 years older than you. I just don’t think it’s gonna work.” I was like, “Whatever, it’s all good. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. We’ll do something else together. We’ll do the next one.”
And about a week goes by, and then he calls me and he says, “Look, come in, and come in dressed as the part. Be the part. Be in character from the second you walk in the door.” I was like, “All right.” So I came back, did the audition again, dressed as Mouse, was in character as Mouse, and he was still like, “I don’t know, I don’t know.” And then he goes, “Can I bring Denzel in?” I was like, “Yeah, sure.”
So he gets Denzel, he brings Denzel in, and we do it. And we keep cracking up at the famous line in there where Mouse asks, “If you ain’t want him dead, why you leave him with me?” We keep dying over that line. And then Carl walks out of the room again, and Denzel says to me, “This is your part, man. This is your part. I don’t know what he’s tripping about, but this is your part.” And Carl comes back in and goes, “Can you guys read it again?” And Denzel’s, like, “Man, this is the nigger right here! Why are we doing this again?” [Laughs.] And by the time I got home, I got a call: “You’re in the movie.”
That was a turning point, as far as your film career goes, because you’d been on Picket Fences at the time.
It was my third year on that show, and I really felt personally like it had run its course for me, and I really wanted off the show and wanted to pursue whatever the next opportunity was going to be. And my agents were like, “Are you crazy? You’re a regular on a network television show. You wanna quit?” I was like, “Yeah, I kinda do.” I was the soul of the piece, the heart of the show, and I was like, “I’m tired of being the heart of a show. I wanna go be the balls of something somewhere else.” So I did.