Q & A with JAMES EARL JONES : ‘Color Doesn’t Bind You--It Just Lumps You Together’

The voice is familiar: A velvety rumble that injected menace into “Star Wars’ ” Darth Vader, wisdom into Simba’s father in “The Lion King” and authority into the network ID “This is CNN.”

So, for that matter, is the face. For, at 64, James Earl Jones is a virtual fixture on the American acting scene. A Tony and Emmy Award winner and Oscar nominee, he is currently co-starring with Richard Harris in a remake of Alan Paton’s “Cry, the Beloved Country,” released by Miramax Films last week. The first major film to be shot in the newly democratic South Africa, the movie tells the story of two fathers--a white bigot and a Zulu country minister--brought together by the loss of their sons.

Munching on a handful of cashews during a brief visit to Los Angeles, Jones ruminated with refreshing candor on Hollywood, his lack of male ego . . . and the real tragedy of O.J.

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Question: When you first heard that they were embarking on a remake of “Cry, the Beloved Country,” you called it a “museum piece.”

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Answer: That’s true. I met with the producer, Anant Singh, five years ago and asked how young people would deal with the extreme patience of my character, Rev. Kumalo. That worried me--as did the fact that he collapses [in atonement] at the feet of a white man. Anant assured me that he wouldn’t proceed on the project until South Africa had achieved democracy. Since then, [president] Nelson Mandela has introduced some of the gentleness Kumalo represents, which is why the country hasn’t gone the way of Bosnia and Somalia. In South Africa, as in the movie, white people are learning humility and blacks are learning forgiveness.

Q: You approached the character very differently from the way Canada Lee played it in the original.

A: Canada was a boxer and played the reverend as a stalwart oak. It’s easier to play the tough stuff, to strut, but that’s not me. I’m too soft and a bit shy, a farm boy with hayseed growing out of my ears. When I was 14, I got mugged every day by kids demanding my money--and the lack of male ego may have saved my life. In “The Man,” I even played the part of the first black president as a milquetoast, a man who cried at the awesomeness of the office his first night in the White House. Black kids later told me I should have been kicking ass but I never bought into the concept of black men as hip or cool or O.J. . . . none of that.

Q: Speaking of O.J. . . .

A: It took me awhile to get over that case. I don’t excuse the verdict but I do understand it. I know the rage I felt growing up in Mississippi when whites lynched blacks and were invariably let off. Black people, in general, assume whites are racist. Some even defended O.J. and called him a hero. I had hoped that the jury would be capable of getting beyond that and stop playing “payback.” But until the city rids itself of fascistic policemen, the D.A. will never win a case. There will always be “reasonable doubt.”

Q: Do you consider this movie particularly relevant to America at this time?

A: It catches South African society as it seems to be coming together . . . and American society as it seems to be coming apart. But only seems. Despite the apocalypse of Los Angeles--and no other city in the world except Mexico City and Tokyo suffers like L.A.--things are improving. I remember the really bad days.

Q: Was there any controversy about the central role in the film being played by an American actor instead of a South African?

A: A little. But it works both ways. I was offered the part of Othello in a BBC Shakespeare series and British Equity said no. Black British actors were the most vociferous. In the end, Anthony Hopkins played the role . . . badly. And Bob Hoskins was horrible as Iago, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Motion pictures are international and casting should be too.

Q: Many of the previous films about apartheid--”A World Apart,” “Cry Freedom,” “A Dry White Season”--have been told from a white point of view.

A: That’s a bad Hollywood habit. It’s assumed that white people won’t identify with any other than their own. I went to John Wayne movies as a kid and walked out feeling like John Wayne. I’m quite sure that whites can go to Sidney Poitier movies and walk out feeling like Sidney. “Cry” is a step in the right direction but the filmmakers still built up the white lead so Richard Harris could co-star. They were afraid that without a white actor, they wouldn’t get the financing. Continuing in this vein pampers that narrowness of mind.

Q: You were a stutterer as a child--mute with everyone but your family for 10 years. It’s ironic that your voice is now your calling card.

A: My voice is a gift that often doesn’t work. I still have difficulty getting thoughts out so my goal is to say something with clarity. I left the church at the age of 14 because I couldn’t do Sunday school recitations without the kids laughing. It was too painful and embarrassing to talk with strangers. Not until high school, with the help of a great teacher, was I able to break through. But the great Olympic runner Wilma Rudolph had serious leg problems. [Dancer] Gwen Verdon had rickets as a child. Demosthenes put pebbles in his mouth and became a great orator. If you acknowledge a weak muscle and exercise it, it can define your life.

Q: You’ve said that color isn’t “identity.” Hollywood, however, doesn’t share that view.

A: Color doesn’t bind you--it just lumps you together. Some people look for a niche and others have it thrown at them since casting directors can be very myopic. Only in opera can you be as black as the ace of spades and still play Brunhilda or Desdemona. Color blind? Opera is totally blind. They just want to hear it. Affirmative action is supposed to be about equal points at the starting line but, when it comes to minorities, the statistics belong to someone else.

Q: Is television any better than film in this arena?

A: TV has to be more democratic since they’re selling soap to a diverse bunch of viewers . . . “James Earl Jones for Bell Atlantic.” Movies don’t have that obligation. Woody Allen never makes movies with black people. He doesn’t stick them in unless there’s a point to be made. Still, I’m not complaining. No one asks us to be actors. And I don’t let other people’s perceptions affect me.

Q: You’ve distinguished yourself in both theater and film. Which do you prefer?

A: I know what I’m doing on stage. I don’t know what I’m doing on film. Until recently, I froze during close-ups because I’m not used to having a camera come between me and my compatriots. In the theater, you also develop a third ear and a third eye so the bond with the audience is almost psychic. Film is so internal it’s like walking down the street talking to yourself. There’s no barometer--it’s just “Take 25.” A director is essential for any sort of perspective so directing something you’re acting in is folly. The money, of course, is better in film. But paying someone even $5 million for a role is ridiculous. That’s all about “clout” or “getting over.” It has nothing to do with storytelling.