Texas Monthly Talks

Forest Whitaker

Interview by Evan Smith

December 2006

(Page 2 of 2)

Which of the films that you’ve made represent your best work? Which are you proudest of?
If I were to mark three, I’d mark Bird, because I grew immensely as an artist—I learned a lot—and also, I think, it was when people started to take me more seriously. I’d also mark Ghost Dog, because I started to understand something about myself in silence, how I’m capable of communicating certain things without doing much. And then I’d probably mark The Last King of Scotland, which marries the internal and the external in a strong way and brings together all of the things I’ve learned about my work into one character.

You’ve played a lot of bad guys. The fact that you can find the inherent humanity in them is quite remarkable.
I know that inside there’s a little pilot light, but it’s covered up by darkness; it’s covered up so that maybe you can’t see it anymore. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. I’ve been able to find that quality in a lot of my characters, even those characters who were murderers. Ghost Dog is a very spiritual character, but I must’ve killed ten or twelve people in the movie. I come in and I just start shooting people, and yet he has an inherent light.

You’re trying to be at least understanding, if not forgiving.
Certainly I don’t think it’s right that 300,000 people were killed in Uganda. I’m looking out right now at a street corner—there are probably 10 people there. Multiply that by 10 and that’s 100, and multiply that by another 10 and that’s 1,000. We’re talking about 300,000. I can’t comprehend it. Obviously that’s horrific. But my job is to try to make us understand. If you don’t get inside of it, you won’t help people understand it in the future and you won’t help people stop it in the future. We’re talking about magnifying charisma, seducing a nation and a world. We have to be able to recognize these kinds of figures so that we won’t allow them to happen again.

I’ll say this about Amin, at least as you play him: There’s quite a bit about him that’s very charismatic and even sympathetic. I’m thinking of the scene near the beginning of the movie when Nicholas Garrigan shows you that his T-shirt says “Scotland” and your mood totally shifts.
Whether you agree with [Amin] or not, he loves the Scots. He sees Nicholas’ shirt, he realizes he’s Scottish, and he thinks, “Oh, I never get to talk to Scottish people!” And so that charisma happens. Nicholas feels enveloped. I say, “Can you please give me your T-shirt, and would you mind taking my dirty little shirt with all the medals on it, the kind only the president of the country can have?” Come on, talk about a seducer!

Now that you’ve named your favorite films, tell me which actors have been the most interesting to work with.
Mickey Rourke, I thought, was really interesting. I did a movie called Johnny Handsome that Walter Hill directed. I had a scene with Mickey in which he says good-bye to me, and I learned something very powerful. He didn’t say anything. I don’t know if his thoughts were so powerful or my imagination was so large, but I could swear I could hear him speaking to me. It was like he was saying, “I want to tell you thanks—you know, I’m about to disappoint you, but you did a good job.” And then, finally, he says, “Thank you.” I was just like, “Whoa!” He’s an amazing actor.

Who else?
I was impressed with Diane Venora [who played Charlie Parker’s wife, Chan] when I did Bird, because she would make choices that were totally contradictory. I remember one time I was lying on the floor, writhing around, and she walks in, kind of tired, and she says, “Aw, great. I gotta call the hospital.” And I’m thinking, “What a poignant choice. How many times did she probably have to deal with that?”

Is there anything you wanted to do in Hollywood that you haven’t been able to do?
It’s been a while since I’ve done a comedy. I think it would be kind of fun to do another one.

Are you interested in directing again?
Well, you know, I’ve directed four movies [ Strapped, Waiting to Exhale, Hope Floats, and First Daughter]. I love directing! I’m excited about the next time around, but I’m going to take my time deciding what to direct next. I think it won’t happen for another year or so.

Have you found it hard, as some of your contemporaries have, to be an African American in Hollywood?
I have friends, African American actors, who’ve had more of a struggle; hopefully they’re starting to see some air and light now. But in my directing career, in my acting career, in my producing career, I haven’t been bound by a lot of limitations. When I first started doing these kinds of unique characters, these diverse characters, there was hardly anybody doing them. So I had this open road.

Let’s end by talking about Texas. A lot of people don’t realize that you’re from here.
I’m from Longview.

What do you remember about growing up there?
My parents moved to Los Angeles when I was really young, but I spent every summer with my grandparents, and I’d stay with my grandfather on the farm in Longview. He was retired from the railroad, and he had a small farm with some cows and some pigs. I remember part of my youth was feeding hogs and plowing fields and stuff, so that’s a part of me. And my parents raised me [to say] “sir” and “ma’am,” to open doors, things like that. That’s the way I was brought up. Also, unfortunately, I was taught not to question too much. I didn’t really question my mom and dad. That’s usually what they told me to do.

Been to Texas recently?
Yeah. I have a lot of relatives in Longview and Nacogdoches; the Whitakers always have big reunions down there. I also have a lot of relatives in Houston. My aunts and a lot of my cousins live down there.

When you come to Texas, is there anything in particular that you like to do?
You know what? I always like to get some fireworks.

Fireworks!
Because we don’t have the same kinds of fireworks that they have in Texas. My dad was always getting fireworks, and we used to shoot them off. I have this thing for them. Even though I live in L.A., I like to light my own fireworks. I don’t know if I can get them on a plane now, but my dad is talking about driving back this time, so I’ll definitely go get some.

If you’re willing to drive back to Los Angeles so you can have fireworks, you must want fireworks badly.
When I was a kid, that was the only way we went to Texas. My dad drove so fast. We never slept. We didn’t stop.

Pages: 1 2