He broke through in "Ray" and "Crash," and now he's stepping front and center -- and earning raves -- in "Hustle & Flow." Is it any wonder that Terrence Howard is feeling so darn giddy?
Jul 16, 2005 | Terrence Howard is an incredibly happy guy. And he should be. He's spent more than a decade acting in relative obscurity, taking smallish parts in biggish films like "Dead Presidents," "Mr. Holland's Opus" and "Big Momma's House," starring in a couple of quickly canceled TV series ("Tall Hopes" and "Sparks"), and making at least one awful career choice (he turned down John Singleton's "Shaft" to play Muhammad Ali in a made-for-television movie). He appeared in dozens of films -- a recognizable face, but not attached to any particular name. Then he landed in "Ray," playing Ray Charles' friend and music partner Gossie McKee (and demonstrating his musical talents), and then in Paul Haggis' "Crash," and that's when everything changed. As Cameron, a successful black director who suffers the indignity of watching a racist cop feel up his wife, Howard's performance was one of the film's most memorable, both for its emotion and its restraint, and suddenly not only did he seem to be in every new film, you also remembered his name.
Now Howard, 36, has his first starring role, in the independent film "Hustle & Flow," out this Friday. In it, he plays DJay, a Memphis pimp and drug dealer who goes through a midlife crisis when he reaches the age at which his father died. Realizing that he's always wanted to be a musician, DJay uses his hustling skills to put together a demo tape to give to a rap star (played by Ludacris) who may or may not be DJay's childhood friend. But while the suspense involved in the buildup to their meeting keeps the film moving, it's Howard's performance as a low-talking, streetwise pimp desperately trying to express himself through crunk that is the film's real pleasure. It's Howard's performance, too, that earned "Hustle & Flow" the Sundance Audience Award and a heap of advance buzz. In the New Yorker last week, David Denby wrote of Howard, "His self-mocking performance is so ironically refined and allusive that one might think that Duke Ellington himself had slipped into an old undershirt and hit the fetid streets of Memphis."
Howard had two other films at Sundance, too: the HBO film "Lackawanna Blues," and a comedy called "The Salon." Additionally, you can catch him soon in the upcoming Singleton film, "Four Brothers," as well as "My Life in Idlewild," a Prohibition-era musical.
But while Howard has every reason to be happy, I didn't expect him to be quite as giddy as he was when we talked by phone. I had assumed that, as with most interview subjects, I would need to put Howard at ease, but to my surprise, it was he who spent most of the interview trying to get me to relax, smile and be happy. Over the course of our too-short interview (repeatedly interrupted by Howard's publicist, working overtime to keep the busy actor on schedule), Howard gave me some of his theories on life and art, and even showed off his music skills.
Howard: How are you today?
Good, thanks. How are you?
I'm learning to be good.
You're learning to be good?
Yeah, it's a process.
Well, you must be a little happier these days, with all the attention you've been getting.
It's the whole process of learning to be good that makes you happy. It's the journey that makes you happy, not the destination.
Sure. Where are you calling from now?
Why did you say "sure"? That "sure" didn't sound too honest.
No, I think you're right. It's the process.
Yeah, slow down a little bit. This is going to be fun.