Tapping into the HBO series The Wire during its first season, you might be reminded of the David Simon television projects Homicide and The Corner. If the familiarity of the drama lulls you to expect that Simon will merely revamp the Luther Mahoney/Junior Bunk storyline from his Homicide days and sprinkle it with The Corner’s scenes of drug addiction, then you’ll miss the nuanced originality of The Wire’s take on the drug wars and the fine actors that bring the series to life. Not to be missed is Michael K. Williams and his portrayal of the stone-cold killer and bandit Omar.
Williams infuses Omar with a ruthless humanity that rings true and is rarely seen in big or small screen portrayals of gangsters. Williams delivers his lines in tones that at times chill the spine with their vehemence and expresses his actions with a mien and gait reflective of a hard knock life.
A Brooklyn native, Williams acknowledges that his environs contributed to his portrayal of Omar “I was raised in a neighbor that produces a lot of that mentality…I may not be like Omar, but I know a lot of them.”
Chatting with Williams in a recent interview, it’s remarkable that such a warm, friendly person convincingly evokes dread as Omar. Williams notes that he had to downplay his friendly demeanor and detach himself from the family atmosphere of The Wire’s set.
“[On set,] I say my quick hellos and stay in my trailer as long as I can,” explains Williams. In addition, Williams listens to theme appropriate music to put himself in the frame of mind to convey to audiences that Omar takes no prisoners. “I listened to a lot of Biggie Smalls, his first album Ready to Die. [For scenes dealing] with Omar’s feelings for Brandon, I listened to a lot of sad love songs about love lost and project[ed] that into the character.”
“When I come out of my trailer, I’m already in full character. I don’t wait for the cameras to roll,” he notes. Williams further explains that he will hover on a corner of the set for about half an hour, attempting to become one with his surroundings. So much so that production assistants have innocently questioned his place on set.
“They think I’m just a kat on the street. They feel the griminess,” Williams recalls.
Smiling, he adds, “That’s when I know I’m in character.”
For Williams, Omar is more than your run-of-the-mill natural born killer.
“Omar is a double-edged sword. You look at him and you see this hard exterior. You see his ruthlessness and at the same time you see him crying in the morgue over his dead lover’s body.” And portraying this character has given Williams the opportunity to skillfully express a wide range of emotions in front of the camera.
Williams’ diligence and dexterity has yielded dividends on and off set. The Wire’s creators found Williams’ work so compelling that they lengthened Omar’s appearance during the first season. Viewers have also warmed to Williams’ character – a fact that amazes Williams since Omar wasn’t designed to be a central figure in the drama. Nevertheless, Williams is grateful for his blessings.
“I didn’t expect the overwhelming admiration…In fact, I even toyed with the idea � that a lot of my brothers and men in general would have a problem because [the character] is homosexual. But that’s not even mentioned.”
Williams uses the praise to aid his critical analysis. Like other professionals, Williams reviews tape. He examines The Wire’s episodes to determine the aspects of his performance that draws fans to the character and funnels that energy into other roles.
Regardless of whether those roles are tough guys, Williams promises to be selective, do the necessary research and work his craft to the best of his ability.
“I know these characters and I know that they are not all bad guys. I know their heart and I know how they got like that�I see the traps. I [can] use my craft not to exploit them, but to represent them and show the world how they got that way,” he emphasizes.
Before Williams answered the call to act, he had success as a dancer and choreographer, working on music videos for George Michael and Madonna, among others. In fact, it was Williams’ decision to work for Madonna that led to his feature film debut.
Slated to begin a 3-week tour of Germany with another artist, Williams was cast for a Madonna video. Williams’ attempt to resolve the scheduling conflict with tour management was met with resistance and Williams was fired from the tour. A few weeks after the Madonna video shoot while watching television at home, Williams’ phone rings. Tupac Shakur had seen his headshot and wanted him to play his younger brother in Bullet. “That started the ball rolling,” Williams recalls.
Relying on his experience from music video productions, Williams immersed himself into Bullet. A keen believer in “taking the cotton out of your ears and putting it in your mouth,” Williams followed Pac’s example while on the set of Bullet and remembers Shakur’s graciousness and willingness to guide him through the film. On the heels of Bullet, Williams starred in Matt Mehern’s independent film Mugshot and then went into the theater, training under Ellen Stewart at La Mama Theater and Tunde Samuels at the National Black Theater.
Currently, Williams is affiliated with a theater company based out of Philadelphia called Theater for New Generation, which is run by Mel Williams and Ray Thomas – the latter Williams’ acting coach. Williams, who loves working in film and television, has a particular affection for the stage. For Williams, “Every night is a different performance. Every time you say [your lines], it’s something new…Theater is like church to me because it’s very spiritual.”
For now, Williams is busy reviewing projects and developing a concept for an Off-Off Broadway play. Content with his life in New York, Williams will manage his career from the East coast, traveling west if a gig requires it. Speaking prospectively of his art, Williams is grounded, “If I [can] be known for 10 may be 15 projects that were groundbreaking and that people study long after I’m gone. I’ll be happy with that.”
There is a moment in the exuberant Mexican film Y Tu Mamá, También (And Your Mother, Too) that’s so spontaneous and perfect that it must have been improvised. Such a small moment, it should really be called a blip, yet it wholly embodies the color, spirit, and vibrancy of this cinematic masterpiece.
The moment is comprised of an old woman in a blue dress, standing in the back of a dingy little restaurant, dancing with as much abandon as her ancient bones can muster. The look on her face betrays a love of life, an embrace of every second. Through her appearance, she seems to be saying from the background: Life is all irony, the best we can do is get caught in its rhythm while we can.
In a film that wastes nothing (not even its background, which depicts a modern day Mexico that’s as full of surprises and contradictions as are the main characters), there is no better character to impart this message. A woman about as old as we can hope to get. A seasoned messenger in a film for people who have grown up, not just older. The screenplay, directed by Alfonso Cuarón (his American Films include 1995’s A Little Princess and 1998’s Great Expectations) and written by his brother, Carlos, is a sexually explicit comedy that’s stunning in the way that it entrusts us with mature subject matter while not confusing intelligence with pretense.
The film’s journey commences when teenage best friends Julio (the beautiful Gael García Bernal, most notably seen infusing Amores Perros with his special brand of jittery sex appeal) and Tenoch (Diego Luna, Bernal’s real life best friend), free for the summer and determined to make the most of their girlfriends’ being away, manage to convince an older, twenty-something woman, Luisa (Maribel Verdú), that they’re going on a trip to a mystical (and made-up) beach and that she should come with them. Luisa agrees for reasons of her own, but horndogs that they are, the boys figure maybe they’ll be able to cop a few feels, so they don’t particularly care what motivates her.
On the road, Julio and Tenoch show Luisa what we’ve already seen – they think they’ve reached manhood, but they’re very far from it. Luisa tries to teach them the fine art of becoming men, but finds she has her work cut out for her. When she tells them it’s important to establish a friendship with a certain intimate part of a woman’s body, one of them seriously asks, “How can I make friends with something that is always hiding from me?”
By the end of their trip, Luisa has indeed been many things to the boys – and their mother, too. Through their relationship with her, they learn astonishing truths about how life can turn on a dime and about their own capacity to turn with it. Whether Julio and Tenoch will use what they’ve learned to fully embrace the dance of life, we’ll never know. M
Sometimes what goes on in the home should not stay there. Ill-deeds done behind closed doors and in darkened basements must be exposed. In doing so, the community is alerted and able to effect change.
With courage and help along the way, Antwone Quenton Fisher confronted his past; shared secrets of his foster home long buried; and demonstrated the indomitable spirit of the little boy within the man that triumphed against all odds. Finding Fish, published in 2001, details how Fisher overcame a childhood of abuse and neglect to live a life free of the festering emotional wounds that could have been his undoing. Concurrently, Fisher scripted a contemporary dramatization of his experiences that after 10 years has reached the screen.
Fisher, determined to tell his own tale, found a cinematic mentor in producer Todd Black (Donnie Brasco, I Know What You Did Last Summer), who gave the then Sony Pictures security guard and budding writer a desk in his office. There, Fisher began the arduous and cathartic task of committing his memories of a heart wrenching childhood to paper. In time, Fisher’s reworked script made its way to Denzel Washington who chose Fisher’s screenplay for his entree into feature filmmaking.
The feature film departs from Finding Fish in that the former is told in a contemporary milieu, shifting the years of abuse to the 80s and 90s rather than the 60s and 70s. Such dramatic license does not diminish the impact of the film; in fact, it heightens it. As a contemporary story, the truth of what bad people do to children is necessarily conveyed as a continuing specter of evil that communities must be vigilant to prevent.
The film, Antwone Fisher, is the feature film debut of Derek Luke, starring in the title role. Luke delivers a full throttle performance as the 25-year-old Antwone and impressively travels the emotional peaks and valleys of hope, despair, anger and joy that the role demands.
After his repeated violent outbursts exasperate his captain (James Brolin), Petty Officer Fisher is ordered to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. Thinking he can bully the good doctor (Washington in a trademark solid performance) into sending him to the brig, Antwone is annoyed to find otherwise. For one so used to iron-fisted punishment, Antwone finds in Davenport an authority figure with the patience, caring and determination to erode his rock-hard exterior. In time, Davenport’s weekly silent treatment convinces Antwone to talk, to recall, to relive and finally to forgive.
Through intermittent flashbacks that juxtapose Antwone’s spit-and-polish Navy life in San Diego against the dreariness of a Cleveland neighborhood where it rained too much for one little boy, Antwone’s childhood of receiving hurt rather than help is revealed. Davenport’s ministering hand guides Antwone along a difficult path with such genuine compassion that doctor and patient enter a realm of father and son that almost jeopardizes Antwone’s healing. Antwone’s journey is also hastened along by his evolving relationship with fellow Navy officer Cheryl Smolley (newcomer Joy Bryant) who overlooks Antwone’s romantic clumsiness and shows him how to love.
Washington, with the help of Robi Reed-Humes, rounds out the featured cast of ingenues with cinema and theater veterans who add enormous depth to the film, including Salli Richardson (playing Berta Davenport with sophistication and strength). Washington’s directing chops are most profound in the stellar supporting performances delivered by Novella Nelson (as the sinister Mrs. Tate) and Viola Davis (portraying Eva Mae Fisher in brilliant, emotionally-suppressed silence upon meeting her son).
More than a revelation of childhood pain, Antwone Fisher is distinguished by its outstanding ensemble performances as well as its prominent theme that with a vision of a better tomorrow and with the help of people of goodwill, the rain will go away; a child’s tears will subside; and in time, kings and queens will rise. Even with its overly syrupy sweet ending, Antwone Fisher is uplifting and a must see. For more on Antwone Fisher, click here. M
And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest.
The Impossible Dream, Lyrics by Joe Darion
Life is about dreams. Once you have one, you gotta go for it and try to achieve it to the fullest. Otherwise, you’ll have a lifetime of regrets and that life is not worth living.
Andre Royo
(c) RLP Ventures, LLC
Like many, Andre Royo dreamed of artistic success. What distinguishes Royo is not that he dreamed in Technicolor, but that he had the mettle to persevere and wait for the right moment to nudge his foot, then body through the door of opportunity that eventually opened. But Royo readily admits that what kept him striving early on was the support of his friends and family.
“The support of my friends, my family, all the guys and women helped me by believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself,” reflects Royo. The love and support strengthened Royo’s resolve as he realized the obligation that comes with such backing. “I’m not just doing it for me… I’m doing for my daughter and for my friends who didn’t go after their dreams. So I couldn’t give up,” Royo states.
Royo’s characteristic resolve was evident before he began his acting journey. As a college student in Florida, Royo tired of his humdrum existence as a coed majoring in marketing and advertising. At 21, he left school, returned to his New York home, set his sight on loftier goals and began building a firm financial foundation. Royo had an uncle down with the union; so he spent a few years working construction and enjoying the economic security and ample benefits that accompany union membership. Interestingly, words of wisdom from more senior co-workers encouraged him to re-evaluate his options.
“A couple of the older guys were telling me not to get hypnotized by the money because [you’ll] wake up 40 years old, laid off and all you’ll know is how to shovel cement,” recalls Royo.
So despite having a measure of financial stability, Royo started articulating long-range aspirations. However, initially, he hadn’t formulated concrete plans.
“[Years ago], when it came to acting, I just assumed that people who were on TV were either picked or discovered,” he says. “I used to go to clubs and wait for [someone] to say ‘Let’s go to Hollywood,’” Royo ruefully admits.
A friend’s invitation to monitor a class at HB Studios changed all of that. “I sat in a class one day and saw kids doing scenes and I fell in love. I enrolled there the next day.” Studying with Uta Hagen, Royo immersed himself into the method and art of performance.
As a youngster, Royo admired the work of several movie stars. However, after his formal training, he didn’t chase the big screen ideal. His first and long-lasting love is the theater.
“Theater is just instant gratification,” insists Royo. “Once you step on stage, you feel the energy of the audience. I’ve done all types of acting and there’s nothing that replaces stepping on stage and feeling that audience. You can tell when that energy dies and they’re not into it or you can tell when they’re really into it and you start milking it,” he muses.
Committed to feeding off the energy of a live audience, Royo formed a theater company on NYC’s Lower East Side with friends called Room 203. There Royo was content promoting and performing original sketches and one act plays. But, upon receiving the good news from his wife that he was to become a proud papa, Royo shifted gears and began actively pursuing opportunities in film and television.
To support his long-range plans, Royo kept his union gig for a while. However, he realized that if he didn’t walk away from the construction safety net, his acting career would stall. So Royo turned in his hard hat and traveled the path of many actors before him by donning the traditional waiter’s garb.
Royo worked at a variety of nightclubs and restaurants in New York City, including those on the buppie dining circuit. Royo longest gig was at the ever-popular Shark Bar for 5 years. Although he ran into folks like Samuel L. Jackson and Denzel Washington, he wasn’t discovered at the Shark Bar for his acting.
“At the Shark Bar, I became somewhat of this little celebrity – a little weird,” Royo confesses. “I got suspended every other day. I was the worst waiter. If you didn’t know what you wanted to eat, I wasn’t coming to your table. Don’t ask me for any recommendations – I used to say go home and cook…But right before someone would get mad, I’d crack a joke or I’d tell them I wanted to be an actor,” Royo says. Luckily, the Shark Bar proprietors liked Andre and kept him around despite his antics.
While many restaurant patrons offered Royo words of encouragement and advice, a few had one-track minds. “When you tell people in the game that you’re an actor; they just look at you and [say,] ‘All right, can I get my chicken?’ or ‘Good luck with everything, but I want my catfish fried,” Royo jokes.
Nevertheless, Royo’s stint at another eatery led to an opportunity to advance his career – the Acapulco Black Film Festival. One of the proprietors of the Soul Café knew Jeff Friday, co-founder of ABFF. That was the lead Royo needed and he put his hustling skills into high gear. He hounded festival management with emails, letters and faxes, expressing his desire to volunteer for the event. Once Royo got a meeting with festival producer, Reggie Scott, Andre impressed Scott with his eccentric style.
In Acapulco, Royo was smitten with the festival’s dynamic vibe. The access ABFF afforded him was also invaluable. “Seeing the Hudlin brothers, seeing Bill Duke and being able to go up to them and say ‘this is what I wanna do, give me words of wisdom,’” were experiences Royo appreciated.
“[Celebrities] were more open at ABFF than meeting them in a restaurant or meeting them in a club,” Royo surmised.
A lasting impression was also the boost the festival gave to Royo’s confidence. He realized that celebrities, while living comfortably, were no different from him and were just trying to actualize their dreams. That realization sharpened Royo’s focus towards offering his distinctive voice to the performance dialogue.
Volunteering at the festival for two summers also yielded incidental dividends for Royo. Working the door at Manhattan’s Cheetah Club during a hot party several summers ago, John Singleton strolled up to the door with friends in tow and Royo let them into the exclusive and posh event. Having briefly chatted with Singleton at ABFF, Royo engaged Singleton in conversation once again and went one step further to request an audition for Shaft. Singleton took Royo’s information and followed up soon thereafter with a call to Andre’s manager.
Although Royo completed several rounds of auditions for a supporting role and bit parts, initially, he didn’t get an offer. Weeks later, returning home from an afternoon in the park with his daughter, he got a message that he’d been offered the part as Tattoo, replacing another actor. He was to report to the set the next day.
After Shaft, Royo was no longer at “DefCon 1” as casting directors began taking him seriously and his friends and family easily related to the widely distributed film. Even with his success in Shaft, Royo continued his work in the theater and actively pursued indie films. In 2001, Royo appeared as Fruity Pebblez in Mad Matthewz’s Big Bank, Take Little Bank, which became a film festival fave. Royo followed up with 2002’s G where he portrayed Tre, a smart-mouthed chronicler of the bling-bling world of hip-hop.
A Great Gatsby-esque tale of financial success and excess spiced with themes of love lost and betrayal, G stars Richard T. Jones as the title character and features a fine ensemble cast. Royo reflects fondly on his G experience because he appeared in Sky, the Charles Drew Off-Off Broadway play on which the film is based. In addition, Tre was a role that didn’t require Royo to rat anyone out and he got a chance to work with Blair Underwood, Jones and Sonja Sohn (who also appears in The Wire).
Working with Sohn on G seems to have contributed to the onscreen chemistry that Royo and Sohn exude during scenes from The Wire, the gritty HBO series that pits cops against robbers and dealers in a high stakes surveillance game. In The Wire, Royo plays Bubbles, Detective Shakima Greggs’ (Sohn) drug-addicted confidential informant.
Royo’s audition for Bubbles came at a time when Andre was in flux. Still stunned by the events of 9/11, Royo had lingering feeling of helplessness in light of the World Trade Center tragedy.
“After 9/11 happened, people in the arts felt small [and] that we weren’t doing anything of importance to help the community,” Royo said. “All these people are risking their lives and I’m out here trying to make somebody laugh. It just didn’t seem to make sense,” he added.
Heeding the advice of colleagues who encouraged him to take one role at a time and make the most of the opportunity presented to him, Royo diligently prepared for his audition as the witty, frenetic heroin-addict. In addition to studying Al Pacino’s performance in Panic in Needle Park and Richard Pryor’s Piano Man in Lady Sings the Blues, Royo visited drug outreach programs on Manhattan’s Lower East Side and talked to recovering addicts.
“[By] talking to junkies, [I was] trying to find a specific through line that all junkies have or go through and there wasn’t any,” he said. “The drug affects everybody in there own different way,” Royo learned.
Undeterred, Royo set about assuring that his audition would be credible. To get a sense of an addict’s withdrawal syndrome, Royo kicked his television, junk food and Coca Cola habits for two weeks. Without hesitation, Royo admits to consuming about four 2-liter bottles of cola a day and the thought of drinking water to satisfy his thirst repulses him.
Referring to H20 as bottled saliva, he confesses, “When I was thirsty, I wanted Coca Cola. I used to get that can and start sweating, [thinking] ‘I’m just gonna go buy one right now; it’s just an audition.’ But, I didn’t do it.”
Arriving for his audition, Royo walked in with the edge of a kat jonesing for a jolt of carbonated corn syrup. Even meeting with David Simon, Clark Johnson and Robert Colesberry didn’t faze Royo.
“I started ad-libbing and just talking frantic and put my little spin on Bubbles,” Royo says. “They called me up the next day and said ‘we love you, we think you’re great for the part, everything is wonderful, we definitely might use you, but we gotta go to LA first and check out what’s out there,’” Royo remembers with a sigh.
Familiar with the post-audition waiting game, Royo reveals that the wait after The Wire audition wasn’t nearly as difficult as it used to be. “I went on with my life, went on taking care of my daughter, going to other auditions and damn near forgot about it,” he said. Going cold turkey from Coca Cola obviously worked because Royo was offered the role even after the producers made their obligatory star search on the west coast.
To Bubbles, Royo brings a sensibility and depth that goes beyond the surface portrayal of a funny junkie. Royo’s Bubbles is multidimensional – at times poignant, earnest, strategic and, of course, humorous. It’s important to Royo to avoid cliché in his portrayal. He is well aware that Bubbles must show a realistic humanity so as to avoid disparaging the life that is reflected onscreen. Sensitive to concerns that Bubbles could add to the heap of stereotypical images about Blacks, Royo felt comfortable before taking the role that The Wire’s creators were more interested in fleshing out a complex character, rather than putting forth a caricature.
“This is very painful addiction that people are dealing with so [the creators and I] didn’t want to belittle their pain,” he said. “We discussed [wanting] to make sure this character has layers and this character is able to break through the similarities that junkies and drug-dealers have,” Royo acknowledges.
Appearing on a critically acclaimed HBO series hasn’t dulled Royo’s desire for theater work. Although time is an issue, Royo is blessed to have friends and collaborators with a similar theatrical passion. “I’m around creative people like my friend muMs and we’ll write. We’ll do one acts. We’ll do monologues,” he says.
The pair has performed at New York’s Joe’s Pub, an intimate performance space run by The Public Theater. Joe’s Pub’s flexible staging format enables Royo to produce shows “Little Rascals-style,” which doesn’t allow for extensive rehearsing. Despite that, the experience of doing so is worth it.
“[Performing] sharpens your instincts. It sharpens your ability to work with the audience and your improv skills,” he states. “It makes you stay on your toes because that audience will tell you right then and there whether they felt you or not. You gotta love that. That’s my rush,” he adds.
Recently, Royo directed muMs at the Downtown Urban Theater Festival in the production “In the Last Car…” which muMs wrote.
What’s next for Royo? Jokingly, Royo summarizes, “Let’s just do a recap, Tattoo, Bubbles, Fruity Pebblez…I’m just waiting to play a character like John or Trevor.”
No worries, with Royo’s talent and determination, those opportunities are sure to come. M
Released to much anticipation and fanfare, Joker (2019) is the latest film to feature Batman’s most iconic villain, and the first since 2012’s The Dark Knight. In Joker, Joaquin Phoenix plays Arthur Fleck, a struggling standup comedian who turns to a life of chaos and crime after experiencing a number of unfortunate failures and psychotic breaks. The story of Fleck’s journey to become Gotham City’s #1 Most Wanted, Joker is both a prequel of sorts as well as a standalone film in the DC Extended Universe.
There’s impressive filmmaking to be found all throughout Joker. The cinematography and the coloring are deep and gritty, showing us a Gotham that feels both familiar and new. The soundtrack hides in the background throughout, slowly creating tension and only occasionally taking center stage in a number of triumphant musical moments. And Joaquin Phoenix certainly stands out as Fleck. His casting was a great choice, and he conveys the depths of a fracturing psyche in a way that is unique, odd and believable. His mannerisms—the subtext in his side-eyes or the worry in his furrowed brow—are all hallmarks of a talented performer who’s acting beyond the confines of what’s in the script.
But that’s where the film really falters — its script. Joker does more than wear its influences on its sleeve; it imitates Scorsese films like Taxi Driver and King of Comedy in a way that is anything but flattering. A number of sequences are plucked directly from the plots of those movies, and instead of subtle winks or references to the tradition, these moments are rather incessant reminders that one could be watching a number of other better films. Joker is captivating for its entire two-hour runtime (Phoenix’s performance makes sure of that), but it’s missing all of the nuance and insight of the films it so clearly wishes it was.
There’s also the question that so many movie-goers asked when this film was first announced—is it really necessary at all? The answer is no. There’s nothing in Joker that will shake up the character’s 80-year history in any substantive way, and this is where the comparison with Ledger’s Joker goes beyond the actors’ mere skill or performance. Ledger’s performance in The Dark Knight has been seared into the public consciousness. In the 13 years since its release, Ledger’s Joker has become the Joker, perhaps more than any iteration before it. Phoenix’s version, while captivating, already seems to be fading away. The pull of the mystery, of a chaotic clown prince whose history and motives are unknown, may simply be too strong.
There is a good movie in here somewhere, but Joker’s half-baked, derivative script lets it down at almost every turn. It’s a film that tries so hard to have something to say, that tries so hard to be thoughtful, but in the end, it fails. M
By Carla Robinson
