April 20–27, 2000

movies

He Shoots, He Scores

Omar Epps goes to the line.

by Cindy Fuchs

Omar Epps has his hotel bed pillows on the sofa, so he can lean into them while he talks. But two minutes into the interview, he’s sitting up and enthusiastically punctuating his points with his hands. At 26, the graduate of New York’s High School of Performing Arts already has a impressive 10-year career, including his debut in Ernest Dickerson’s Juice, John Singleton’s Higher Learning, Charles S. Dutton’s HBO film First Time Felon and The Wood. Today he’s talking about Love & Basketball, writer-director Gina Prince-Bythewood’s first feature, produced by Spike Lee and Sam Kitt. The film follows the intersecting romance and careers of two Los Angelenos, Q, played by Epps, and Monica, played by his offscreen girlfriend, Sanaa Lathan (Blade, The Best Man).

Epps describes Love & Basketball as "part of that new movement in black films, looking at the middle class. Both the kids come from two-parent households, so it’s not against all odds, or basketball or die. For me, the big thing was that the girl got to have her cake and eat it too. That’s refreshing." In addition to the romance — which, Epps points out, makes it his first "date movie" — the movie also addresses intergenerational relations. Himself the father of a young daughter, Epps calls this aspect "important, especially for black cinema, because we don’t often see the father and son bonded beyond biological circumstances. He’s raised his son, in the house with the mother." The hardest part of playing Q, he says, "was going back to the 17- or 18-year-old mindset, to not think, because at that age, you’re full of passion. You think you know, but you don’t know and you do know, all at once."

Epps — set to release a hip-hop album in the coming months — has already seen many changes in the movie industry. "I’ve seen people be more accepting of art, coming back to that auteur mindframe. Hollywood is based on money, so whatever makes dough, that’s what they’re going to duplicate. Whatever doesn’t, they’ll shelve. But studios take also chances, make the Good Will Huntings once in a while. And there’s the independent rush… you can rent a Handicam and make Blair Witch and it might make $144 million. That’s all about chance, which is exciting."

He credits Spike Lee as a forerunner for this "rush": "Spike is like the magician who gives away his tricks, he teaches people the business of the show. Cats like Spike, who inspire and show and prove by his work, it’s only good. At the inception of the new black film renaissance, mid-’80s, he had the whole plight of our people on his shoulders. He basically had to rewrite our cinematic history. The great films before that were Superfly and The Mack, which were shitty films, but for the time, but they served the purpose. Spike had to show that we were artistic, clever, witty and smart, and that we had the ability to make a credible film that was colorless. He’s one of our warriors."

Epps feels his own responsibility to represent "to a small degree. It’s not something I wear on my shoulder. As a black man, we are the number-one displaced people in the world, because you can come to America and you can go to the Greek or Chinese part of town, and people still have their own native tongue. We’re the only people — us and white people — who don’t have a native anything. The primary responsibility I feel is just to kids in general, no matter what color. I’m inspired by kids, so I would like to return the favor. That’s what it’s all about: recycling. I don’t have to go to the school in the slums and put on my face.

"I live that every day, with every person I come in contact with. And that’s the easiest thing to do, is be me."