In all the years I’ve called Hollywood home, I have never once heard anyone say, “James Earl Jones is an asshole.”
That is a rarity in a town where friends and enemies too often wear the same faces. These hills, sharp and jagged, gleam with the manic glow of manufactured, toxic metals; yet, there he stood—a natural gem whose light could still be seen from the corner of one’s eye long after he’d made his dignified exit.
Not many people know this, but we filmed Coming 2 America in Atlanta. James, though, was ill and not up to travel, so his scenes were shot in New York. That’s right. The scene where Eddie and I are speaking to him while he glares at us from his royal bed? All of it was made possible thanks to the power of film technology. When you see me as a 90-year-old shaman named Baba, I am speaking to a tennis ball.
What a difference 30 years can make. When we filmed Coming to America, before a scene or during hair and makeup, I might turn to him and ask, “How do I approach this one?” As a young performer—a young Black performer—being able to ask him for acting advice was a gift I have never taken for granted. His wisdom fueled me; his generational talent both intimidated and inspired me.
During the first film, there’s a scene where I’m in the apartment in New York. James Earl Jones—His Excellency, Ruler for Life, King Jaffe Joffer, Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Zamunda in particular, if you’re nasty—has just arrived in America. We have no idea that King Joffer is in town. So, of course, when I hear an urgent knock at the door and open it to see him standing there, I do what any self-respecting man would do in that situation: I scream, then slam the door.
That scene initially had dialogue. I was supposed to open the door and say actual words. But before we walked on the set, I asked James that familiar question, “How do I approach this one?” He paused for the briefest of…
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