They've Got Next

Cinque Henderson, a former executive at DreamWorks, attributes today's blues to bad decisions--and bad movies--made after the first flush of success. White audiences, he says, loved the early movies by Spike Lee or John Singleton, whose "Poetic Justice" had the richest opening weekend of any black movie. "At $18 million, a lot of black and white people went to see it. But it wasn't good, and that turned a lot of people off." The politically charged movies that followed, he argues--citing "Amistad," "Beloved" and Singleton's "Rosewood"--added to the damage. "That's not what white people want to hear, and, truth be told, black people, either."

The young actors, who are not yet proven at the box office, often still find themselves at odds in Hollywood. "I'm told I don't smile enough," complains Washington, who smolders opposite Clint Eastwood in "True Crime." Many scripts offer only stereotypes, or no black roles at all. The VP of development at one studio, who is white, concedes, "When I'm in a meeting about a big film, if the script doesn't call for a black or minority character, it really doesn't cross our minds to put somebody black in it. It's not racism, though I'm sure that's what everyone wants to call it. But all-white movies sell. There's no blacks in 'Saving Private Ryan' or 'There's Something About Mary,' and they sold at the box office. So there's not a lot of incentive to make changes. It's wrong, but that's the reality."

Frozen out of period movies like "Shakespeare in Love," the actors have to compete for contemporary roles with rap stars like Ice Cube and Master P, who bring a built-in audience. "We're the only group of artists that Hollywood doesn't see as true artists," says Hill Harper, with a touch of grandiosity. "You'd never see De Niro audition for a role against the Goo Goo Dolls."

Harper's recent movie, "The Nephew," illustrates the conceptual constraints often applied to black films. The story of a bi-racial young New Yorker who goes to Ireland to meet his white relatives, the movie has rung up respectable box-office figures and good reviews in Ireland, but hasn't found a distributor here. "I heard a number of times from studios that the film is great, but can't the lead be white?" says its director, Eugene Brady, who is white. Miramax has shown interest in the movie, but its future remains uncertain.

Against these challenges, Epps has started to work with screenwriter friends, "trying to make something happen." But Cheadle, the most established of the group, counsels the others to reconsider their measures of success. If not the megastardom of Will Smith, then at least a quality body of work. "For us," says Cheadle, "you got to be in it for the love of acting, and not for the props [respect], because they probably won't come. We say our experience is different from theirs, but then we get mad when we can't get dressed in tuxes and win an Oscar. We need to get past that." As the others finish looking, he puts his Golden Globe sticker back in his pocket. The trophy itself will arrive shortly: a solid token of respect well deserved. And for these talented actors, they hope, the first of many.

© 1999