They've Got Next

In a west Hollywood photo studio, Don Cheadle interrupts lunch to play a little show and tell. Cheadle, 34, is the sinuous actor whose supporting performances lit up "Out of Sight" and "Devil in a Blue Dress." Around him, casually networking, are three of his most promising peers: Omar Epps, Mekhi Phifer and Hill Harper. Without warning, Cheadle whips out his Golden Globe award, which he earned for his portrayal of Sammy Davis Jr. in HBO's "The Rat Pack." The others stop eating, awed. Actually, it isn't even the trophy, just a gold sticker with his name on it. "They don't give you the s--- when you win," Cheadle riffs. "They take away the one you see on TV and give you this sticker to stick on the real one when it comes." But as Cheadle laughs, the others handle the artifact with reverence. "Man, you're really coming up," says Epps, now costarring in the ill-conceived "Mod Squad." After the year black Hollywood just went through, any recognition is precious.

Chris Rock summed up the moment best. Looking out over the crowd at the Oscars last week, the comedian observed, "It's like the Million White-Man March out there." Though the 71st annual Academy Awards ceremony featured a black host and choreographer, testimony to blacks' growing clout in the industry, no African-American was nominated for a major award. (Even Colleen Atwood, nominated for her costume design for "Beloved," is white.) Just a few years after breakthrough films like "Boyz N the Hood" and "House Party" promised a richer, more diverse future for the entertainment industry, black film in 1998 foundered both commercially and critically.

For the young actors in the photo studio--and for peers like Isaiah Washington, Larenz Tate and Taye Diggs--the slump is especially threatening. They are the generation launched by the boom of the early 1990s, building reputations with arresting, edgy performances in support roles or modest-budget films. Now they are ready to follow Denzel Washington and Wesley Snipes to leading roles. But as up-and-comers, they cannot afford to repeat the failures of 1998.

The next eight months will be a critical test. Between now and the end of the year, 15 movies with black male leads or predominantly black casts are scheduled for release. "It's gotten a little better in the last few years for us getting the roles that make people take notice," says Epps, whose roles in "Scream 2" and "The Mod Squad" exposed him to a mainstream audience. "The rest of it is on us to make things happen." Phifer, a Harlem native who got his start in Spike Lee's "Clockers," downplays any undue pressure to succeed. "The world needs all of us to work, and that can't be ignored," he says. Besides, "White films flop, too, and they keep making them."

The actors concede that in many ways, they are uniquely fortunate. African-Americans, just 13 percent of the population, account for 25 percent of the ticket-buying public, a market Hollywood has belatedly come to recognize. But after a promising start, Hollywood stands baffled about what kinds of black films or roles sell tickets. At the high end, Oprah Winfrey's ambitious, $53 million "Beloved" earned back less than half its budget. Lower on the food chain, Hype Williams's 'hoodsploitation shoot-'em-up "Belly" also flopped, despite enough rap stars and gunplay to satisfy any adolescent filmgoer. After the failure of the star-studded "Why Do Fools Fall in Love," featuring Halle Berry and Vivica A. Fox, studio DreamWorks dropped plans for a film version of the musical "Dream Girls," to star Lauryn Hill. "It's truly amazing that black films have such a tough time when black culture is the most popular culture in the world," says Stacy Spikes, who founded the Urban World Film Festival. "Black music like Lauryn Hill has crossed every cultural divide. Why that doesn't transfer to the big screen is truly a mystery."