Latest news with #Poitier
Yahoo
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Ena Hartman, ‘Dan August' and ‘Terminal Island' Actress, Dies at 93
Ena Hartman, a pioneering Black actress who had a regular role opposite Burt Reynolds on the 1970-71 ABC cop show Dan August, has died. She was 93. Hartman died April 16 of natural causes at her home in Van Nuys, her goddaughter Lorraine Foxworth told The Hollywood Reporter. More from The Hollywood Reporter Loretta Swit, Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan on 'M*A*S*H,' Dies at 87 Mike Sumler, Kool & the Gang Hype Man, Dies at 71 Brian Avnet, Longtime Artist Manager and Music Executive, Dies at 82 Hartman also is known for her starring turn as the tough girl Carmen Simms alongside Tom Selleck, Don Marshall, Roger E. Mosley, Phyllis Davis and Marta Kristen in the cult prison-set film Terminal Island (1973), written and directed by Stephanie Rothman. She assisted Lee J. Cobb's character in the spy spoof Our Man Flint (1966), starring James Coburn; played a party guest in Games (1967), starring James Caan, Simone Signoret and Katharine Ross; and was a flight attendant in Airport (1970). And in firsts for NBC in 1968, she appeared on the inaugural episode of Adam-12 and in the telefilm Prescription Murder, which starred Peter Falk in his initial outing as Columbo. In one of the rare regular TV roles given to Black actresses back then, Hartman stood out as the smart, no-nonsense police dispatcher Katy Grant on Dan August, which starred Reynolds as the titular cop investigating homicides in his hometown of Santa Luisa, California. However, the series, which also featured Richard Anderson and Norman Fell, lasted just one season and 26 episodes. Earlier, Hartman had a chance to hit it big when famed actress-singer Dorothy Dandridge picked her to play her in a planned biopic that was to star Sidney Poitier as well. Poitier, though, decided in the final stages to pass on the film, and it was never made. (Hartman did get to be Poitier's guest at the 1964 Academy Awards when he became the first Black man to win the Oscar for best actor.) Later, she was said to be in the running to play Lieutenant Uhura on NBC's Star Trek and one of the nuns in Elvis Presley's Change of Habit (1969), but she lost out to Nichelle Nichols and Barbara McNair, respectively. (She would appear on the first-season Trek episode 'The Corbomite Maneuver.') The daughter of sharecroppers, Gerthaline Henry was born on April 1, 1932, in Moscow, Arkansas. Raised by her grandparents, she moved to Buffalo, New York, when she was 13 to live with her mother. She dropped out of high school to open a restaurant and would earn enough money to go to New York City, where she would adopt a stage name, become a top model in town and study drama with Josh Shelley and A Raisin in the Sun director Lloyd Richards. Hartman participated in an NBC-sponsored talent competition for young actors and actresses, and that got her a talent contract from the network — said to be the first such deal for any Black actor. (Ebony magazine in 1962 reported that the 'grooming' contract was for five years at $12,000 a year. 'It's the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me,' she said.) In 1964, she made her onscreen debuts on an episode of Bonanza and in the sequel feature The New Interns. And after NBC, she signed a contract with Universal and was named honorary mayor of Universal City in 1968. Hartman also showed up on such series as Profiles in Courage, The Farmer's Daughter, Tarzan, Ironside, It Takes a Thief, Dragnet 1967, The Name of the Game, The Outsider, Ironside and, for her final onscreen credit, a 1975 episode of Police Story. In addition to her goddaughter, survivors include her son, Douglas; daughter-in-law Kimberly; grandchildren Kenneth, Eliane, Maximillian and Alexander; great-grandchildren Angel, Akisha and Kenneth Jr.; great-great-grandchildren Kash, Shyonte, KayLianna and Wallace; sisters Andrewnette, Carolyn, Lena and June; and sister-in-law Gizelle. Best of The Hollywood Reporter 'The Studio': 30 Famous Faces Who Play (a Version of) Themselves in the Hollywood-Based Series 22 of the Most Shocking Character Deaths in Television History A 'Star Wars' Timeline: All the Movies and TV Shows in the Franchise
The Independent
30-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Independent
Eddie Murphy says Sidney Poitier urged him not to star in Oscar-nominated film
Eddie Murphy has shared the advice Sidney Poitier gave him after he was approached to star in the 1992 film Malcolm X. Murphy, 63, who shot to fame on Saturday Night Live before establishing himself as a lead man with starring roles in The Golden Child and Harlem Nights, was steered away from the role by Poitier. In the new documentary Number One on the Call Sheet: Black Leading Men in Hollywood, Murphy recalled the confusing career advice from the legendary In the Heat of the Night star. 'They were talking about doing Malcolm X [and] Norman Jewison (who directed Fiddler on the Roof and Moonstruck) was putting it together,' he recalled. 'They were gonna use The Autobiography of Malcolm X by Alex Hayley and they approached me about playing Alex Haley.' Murphy continued: 'Around the same time, I bumped into Sidney Poitier at something and I asked him, 'Yeah, I'm thinking about playing Alex Hayley.' Poitier said, 'You are not Denzel, and you are not Morgan. You are a breath of fresh air, and don't f*** with that,'' the actor recalled, per Entertainment Weekly. 'I didn't know if it was an insult or a compliment,' Murphy admitted. 'I was like, 'What?'' Murphy, Freeman and Washington were all finding their way as Hollywood leading men at the same time. While Washington was eventually cast in Malcolm X, Murphy went on to star in a series of much-loved comedies, including Boomerang, Nutty Professor and Dr. Dolittle. Washington won Best Actor at the 1993 Oscars for his role as the civil rights activist in the film ultimately directed by Spike Lee, which did not include Hayley's character despite being based on his book. When reflecting on why Poitier saw him as a different type of actor to his peers, Murphy said: 'I was in uncharted waters. For Sidney and all those guys, when I showed up, it was something kinda new. 'They didn't have a reference for me, they couldn't give me advice, because I was 20, 21 years old, and my audience was the mainstream – all of everywhere. 'My movies [were] all around the world, and they had never had that with a young Black person. So nobody could give me advice, really. Everything broke really big and really fast.' Murphy said singer James Brown also offered him a career tip: 'He told me I should stop cursing,' he revealed. 'He said, 'You wanna be in this business for a long time? Stop that cursing.'' Brown also recommended that if Murphy had made a million dollars he bury his money in the woods so the government couldn't take it from him. 'I was like, 'But can't the government take your land?' and he said, 'But they won't know where the money is,' Murphy claimed. 'That's a true story.' He added: 'That's the kind of advice I used to get. We didn't have a lot of elders.' Last year, Murphy reflected on how 'racist' jokes were made at his expense on Saturday Night Live in the Nineties, despite him being 'the biggest thing that ever came off that show'. One such joke occurred when comedian David Spade, as part of his 'Hollywood Minute' sketch, showed a photo of Murphy, stating: 'Look children, it's a falling star. Make a wish.' Murphy said of the comment: 'It was like: 'Yo, it's in-house! I'm one of the family, and you're f***ing with me like that?' It hurt my feelings like that.' The actor said the joke 'was personal', adding: 'It was like, 'Yo, how could you do that?' My career? Really? A joke about my career? So I thought that was a cheap shot. And it was kind of, I thought – I felt it was racist.'
The Guardian
28-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Number One on the Call Sheet review – a spectacular tribute to black excellence in Hollywood
Denzel Washington. Don Cheadle. Morgan Freeman. Laurence Fishburne. Idris Elba. Viola Davis. Halle Berry. Cynthia Erivo. Angela Bassett. Octavia Spencer. To say that the cast of Apple's new two-part, feature-length documentary series is stacked would be an understatement, and that truly is only a smattering of its many interviewees: I'd be here all week if I listed every single one. A celebration of black excellence in Hollywood, these two films are produced by the likes of Jamie Foxx and Kevin Hart, and stuffed full of household names who have made it to that coveted No 1 spot on the call sheet – in other words, the top-billed star of a production. They also offer a potted history of how black actors came to thrive in Hollywood – and the struggle baked into almost every stage of that process. Episode one focuses on male stars, juxtaposing more established names with a new generation of actors, such as Michael B Jordan, John Boyega, Daniel Kaluuya and the late Chadwick Boseman. We start, though, with Sidney Poitier, and the debt that so many performers feel towards the pioneering star of In the Heat of the Night and Guess Who's Coming to Dinner. Director Reginald Hudlin cleverly segues between archive footage and new interviews, as we observe Washington's tribute to Poitier on stage at the Oscars in 2002 (the former won best actor, while the latter picked up an honorary Academy award). Present-day Washington then adds more colour to the story, namechecking the stars who Poitier had in turn tipped his hat to: James Edwards, Canada Lee, Paul Robeson and – of course – Hattie McDaniel, the first black Oscar winner (in 1940, for Gone With the Wind), whose story we return to in the 'women' episode. We race through the decades – via Blazing Saddles and blaxploitation – before arriving at Eddie Murphy's imperial phase, when he showed that a black comic actor could garner mainstream acclaim in films such as Beverly Hills Cop and Coming to America. If you've forgotten just how big a deal Murphy was in the 80s and 90s, he's here to remind us, complete with some wicked anecdotes, such as, er, the time James Brown advised him to bury his money in the woods to keep it away from the government. As his life story begins to coalesce with that of his biggest fan, Will Smith, there's the risk of these actors going all luvvie central on us. But, luckily, even when Smith (and, later, Dwayne 'the Rock' Johnson) begin to speak in riddles and motivational metaphors, the episode stays on the right side of self aware. Its best moments are those that highlight candid, endearing memories, such as Boyz N the Hood's Morris Chestnut confessing that the film's Cannes success went right over his head (he remembers asking: 'Are they gonna release it here in LA …?'). The second instalment – directed by Shola Lynch – pays homage to Whoopi Goldberg in the same way as it does Murphy, reminding viewers that, at the peak of her powers, she was the cream of the comedy crop and totally devastating as Celie in The Color Purple. But Goldberg had to fight for even her most memorable roles; she explains that she only got Sister Act because Bette Midler wasn't available, and Patrick Swayze fought for her to be cast alongside him in Ghost. Elsewhere, we hear from actors at the top of their game who are yet to get the awards-show recognition they deserve; the disappointment on Erivo's face as she learns that Renée Zellweger has won the 2020 best actress Oscar is positively heartbreaking. Meanwhile, the temptation to generalise is resisted. After all, audiences of all races are likely aware that Halle Berry – a former beauty queen whose acting skills were initially underestimated – has had different challenges to overcome in the industry than, say, Gabourey Sidibe. Sidibe speaks beautifully about not conforming to beauty standards: in the way she cared for the titular character in the 2009 film Precious; and feeling that she could relate to a girl who was 'not the sexpot, not the popular girl – not even the one with the cool sneakers'. It isn't a perfect set of films. Samuel L Jackson is conspicuous by his absence (surely the film-makers could've grabbed five minutes with him?!) and Quentin Tarantino makes a needless cameo. And I'm not convinced that splitting the films by gender was necessary. But, Number One on the Call Sheet is still a joy to watch – as a loving homage to black Hollywood's past and a sign of its rude health in the present. Number One on the Call Sheet is on Apple TV+ now.
The Guardian
23-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The week in theatre: Retrograde; Dracula: A Comedy of Terrors
The phrase 'person of consequence' might have been coined for Sidney Poitier. The pioneering black American actor was not only possessed of huge talent, but of immense dignity and deep convictions, active in the civil rights movement and, later, in efforts to hand more power to artists in Hollywood. He was remembered on his death in 2022, aged 94, as a person of unassailable decency and integrity. That decency and integrity is vigorously assailed in Ryan Calais Cameron's electric three-hander Retrograde, set in real time in a stuffy NBC lawyer's office on a sticky LA afternoon in 1955 – the height of the McCarthy era. Amit Sharma's production, which premiered at the Kiln in 2023, is an imagining of a real incident, when Poitier was asked as part of a movie contract to sign a loyalty oath – an undertaking to not do or say anything or associate with anyone with even a tenuous link with communism – and to publicly denounce his hero, the singer and activist Paul Robeson. We now know that a number of civil rights figures were deliberately lumped in with the red scare, in a covert attempt by the FBI to undermine the movement. Ivanno Jeremiah's Poitier is on the verge. His breakout role in 1955's Blackboard Jungle has made him somebody, and he and Bobby – Poitier's real-life friend, the writer Robert Alan Aurthur, played with sweaty energy and callow bravado by Oliver Johnstone – are in the office of shit-talking, wise-ass lawyer Parks (Stanley Townsend) to ink a big studio contract. Bobby's all signed up but when he leaves, it becomes clear that Parks has a different agenda for Poitier. Calais Cameron's script, echoing the fast-talking, wise-cracking style of the era's movies, fairly crackles. It's talky but funny, entertainingly sweary (never Poitier, at least almost never) and saturated with what we'd now call micro-aggressions, not all of which are all that micro. Poitier's unease in this situation, where whiskey is drunk in the morning and, for all the straight-talking, too much is being left unsaid, is palpable from the start, but even he isn't sure why at first. Jeremiah's Poitier is beautifully rounded, proud but respectful, reserved but passionate, easy-going but wary, navigating a terrain that he's increasingly aware is booby-trapped. He understands that change requires sacrifice, but it's not always easy to know what sacrifice to make. It is a stonking performance – you can't take your eyes off him, and when Poitier allows his emotions to propel him, Jeremiah commands the stage completely. Bobby and Parks are more sketchily drawn but they hold their own, and Townsend peels away the layers of the fantastically serpentine Parks slowly. Bobby's almost harder to watch – a white liberal, passionately opposed to racism, but who nonetheless can't quite make the leap to zero tolerance because, crucially, it doesn't apply to him. When it becomes clear that to stand up in a meaningful way may have a detrimental effect on his own career, he struggles to find the courage or the conviction. As much as this is about an insidious plot to sabotage a movement, it's also about a black man who is expected to shed some of his blackness in order to move forward. There's a fundamental reason this period piece feels so alive. Utterly without consequence, on the other hand, is Dracula: A Comedy of Terrors at the Menier Chocolate Factory. Director Gordon Greenberg and Steve Rosen's daft off-Broadway parody of Bram Stoker's Dracula (though 'parody' is insufficient to express just how firmly it drives a stake into the heart of the original) has almost nothing to say that hasn't been said before, but says it with great brio. Canadian actor James Daly is the inhumanly handsome, pansexually voracious Count Dracula, gym-buffed to a gleaming Eurotrash shine and sporting a cape in a way that few living men could pull off. He's also oddly obsessed with baking, enabling precisely two jokes that then don't go anywhere. Charlie Stemp is querulous solicitor Jonathan Harker, terrified of germs and blind to the perils presented by his new client. For whatever reason, Lucy, played with head-girl enthusiasm by Safeena Ladha, is now Harker's fiancee, while Mina is her notably less beautiful sister – presumably because she's played by Sebastien Torkia in an orange wig. Torkia also plays a female Dr Van Helsing, simultaneously scoffed at and desired by Lucy and Mina's father, Dr Westfeldt, played by Dianne Pilkington. Everyone except Daly plays several roles – Pilkington notably Westfeldt's insect-scoffing mental patient Renfield. Her increasingly shambolic quick changes are very funny. It's all pretty funny and larky, delivered gamely by the cast with a chaotic fringe show vibe on an expensive-looking set. The jokes come thick and fast, plentiful if not particularly sharp, and some needed suffocating at birth, let alone a shot at immortality. One highly questionable gag about Janet Street-Porter's teeth must have been added for the UK run, but even the press night audience didn't appreciate it. The show lacks bite but there's no need to snap. Star ratings (out of five) Retrograde ★★★★Dracula: A Comedy of Terrors ★★★ Retrograde is at the Apollo, London, until 14 June Dracula: A Comedy of Terrors is at the Menier Chocolate Factory, London, until 3 May
Telegraph
20-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Retrograde: A deserved West End triumph for one of Britain's finest playwrights
When I reviewed Retrograde – Ryan Calais Cameron's riveting account of a career-defining moment for actor Sidney Poitier in the mid-Fifties – at the Kiln in 2023, I rounded off by comparing it to Arthur Miller's The Crucible. 'Yes, it's honestly that good', I declared, giving it five stars. While I wouldn't put my wariness about revisiting the play in the West End on a par with Poitier's trepidation on entering the snake-pit office of an NBC lawyer ahead of signing for a TV movie, the lurking fear was there: had I over-hyped it? Not at all, I'm relieved to say. This darkly comic three-hander – which sees Poitier poised to take the first black role of substance in a prime-time drama – is still a must-see piece of theatre that confirms the promise of its 36-year-old playwright's runaway success For Black Boys Who Have Considered Suicide When the Hue Gets Too Heavy in 2021. In Kilburn, this looked like the kind of engrossing, well-made play that Shaftesbury Avenue is always crying out for – its snappy, American-located assurance doubly impressive given Cameron hails from South London. Amit Sharma's production appears entirely at home at the Apollo. As well as showcasing Ivanno Jeremiah's superb performance as Poitier, Oliver Johnstone and Stanley Townsend now take the pincer-like roles of screen-writer Bobby and studio lawyer Mr Parks - and find more detail, nuance and wit in them. In the interim, the play's evocation of McCarthyist hysteria has also acquired yet more resonance. The dilemma for Poitier that becomes more apparent, and agonising, as the sweatily intense action proceeds, over 90 minutes, is as follows: the meeting isn't simply a contract-signing formality. No, it emerges that the studio – under pressure from its sponsors, and other forces besides – wants him to disassociate from civil rights causes and Communist-sympathising companions with a formal declaration of patriotic allegiance and furthermore publicly denounce Paul Robeson, then as much a figurehead activist as an acting titan, into the bargain. Poitier could walk away but where to? More poverty and obscurity, with blacklisting a threatened certainty. Yield, and he's staring at a Faustian pact, a traitor to his own kind. In 2023, thoughts flitted to cancel culture; today, they're as likely to head in the direction of a crazed White House, too. The piece brilliantly builds and builds, combining fact and fiction, and fusing jittery wisecracking worthy of Mamet into something nerve-shredding, with seismic ramifications about US culture, and who owns it. Jeremiah is unassuming, yet physically imposing and quietly commanding, cajoled into joining the duo in drinking, tolerating their sexism- and prejudice-steeped repartee, saying so much with his alert eyes. You can see him calculating in real-time. But that also applies to Johnstone's bumptious writer, a tumult of good intentions, self-interest and torn loyalties; while Townsend is mesmerising as the larger than life Mr Parks, all wily bonhomie and vivid put-downs ('He's as dumb as a soup sandwich'), a worn yet lethally serrated cog in the machine. A triumph.
