What Have We Here?, page 20
I think I would’ve picked up any other motives. I had pretty good sensitivity for such things. Heavyweight boxing champion Muhammad Ali had once arranged for me to meet with him and Nation of Islam founder Elijah Muhammad’s son Warith Deen Muhammad in Chicago. Ali was friendly and we joked about which one of us was the prettiest. We had a good conversation about their faith, I learned a lot, and I left respecting those who found community and support in the Nation of Islam. But if my mom and sister couldn’t get me to join their religion, the Champ wasn’t going to succeed either.
The last time I spoke to the Champ, he said, “Billy, Billy, you and me, the last of the pretty boys.”
I had no reservations about joining George Lucas’s project. I knew it was special as soon as I read the material they sent me. The movie was Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, the second in what I thought was a trilogy (later it was titled Star Wars: Episode V—The Empire Strikes Back, as there turned out to be more chapters to this incredible saga, lots more!), and the character they had in mind for me was a former smuggler-gambler turned roguish overseer of Cloud City, the floating mining colony of Bespin, and an old acquaintance of Han Solo’s.
He was my kind of guy, the full spectrum of colors.
I said his name to myself. Then I said it out loud.
Lando.
Lando Calrissian.
The name was Armenian. It had multiple syllables. It had a rhythm. It sounded like music.
Lando. Calrissian.
The brief character description said that Lando wore a cape. I read that and grinned like a kid who saw a pile of presents under his Christmas tree. I mean, a cape! Amazing! It was old-school. I immediately began to get a sense of this character, Lando Calrissian. He was a swashbuckler straight out of the movies my mother had taken me to see as a child, a pirate with a rakish smile, a naughty glint in his eye…and a cape.
I saw him in my head. He wasn’t written Black or White. He was beyond that. Bigger than that. He was straight out of Dumas via Flash Gordon. He was a star.
Before anything became official, the film’s director, Irv Kershner, wanted to get to know me. We met at my house in the Hollywood Hills and sat in the living room, talking for hours. In his late fifties, Irv was intelligent and engaging and had the wide-ranging intellect that matched his professorial appearance. He had taught film at USC, where I assumed he’d met George Lucas. He’d also studied painting and photography and had an interest in Eastern and Western philosophy and Buddhism. I explained how LSD had opened me up to Zen and shared my own background in art. We found much in common.
Eventually, we got around to discussing the movie—as much as he could discuss since the actual story and script was kept under wraps (and still being worked on by George and his writer, Lawrence Kasdan). But I got the impression Irv was more interested in getting to know me and seeing if I was the Lando he envisioned. He was like Danny Mann when I’d met with him about The Last Angry Man; we talked about everything but the movie.
Irv was sizing me up, measuring my personality, and while he probably had no doubt that I was a capable actor, he knew I also had to hold my own onscreen with Harrison Ford, Mark Hamill, and Carrie Fisher. I think he found more to me than he expected. A little swagger also didn’t hurt.
* * *
—
Corey was in college, studying technical drawing, but he still shot up from the couch as if he were a little kid hearing something unbelievable, which he had.
“Get out of here!” he exclaimed.
It was the tail end of 1978, and I’d just told Corey that I was going to be in the next Star Wars movie. The original Star Wars movie was one of our favorites. Like many who worked in Hollywood, we had access to first-run movies, and we had played our copy of Star Wars dozens of times on our three-quarter-inch videotape player. Corey knew the lines by heart. I told him that I’d just signed my contract. He wanted to know all the details—who I was going to play, how Lando Calrissian fit in with the others, what the storyline was, and on and on. All the questions a superfan would ask, and all the questions I couldn’t answer. Under penalty of death—or worse, I joked.
News of my casting added to the existing controversy. Was I merely a solution to their problem? Or what? It’s not the big deal everyone is making it, George’s vice president of marketing Sid Ganis told the press. “We were just looking for a wonderful romantic hero,” he said.
As far as I was concerned, they found him. George Lucas felt similarly. The two of us had dinner a few months later. It was March 1979, and I was by this time comfortably ensconced at the Athenaeum Hotel in London, my home away from home for the next four months. We met at his place. I thought he was personable and fairly laid-back for a genius creating the most successful franchise in film history. He said he’d heard about me from his friends Hal Barwood and Matthew Robbins, the co-writers of The Bingo Long Traveling All-Stars & Motor Kings, and mentioned my name to Irv Kershner as the guy to play Lando.
George addressed the race issue directly. He was aware of the discussion about the lack of Black characters in Star Wars other than Darth Vader, but he explained it was something manufactured in the press, that the story he’d created was a timeless battle between good and evil, like the old cowboy movies in which the good guys wore white hats, and the bad guys wore black hats. I understood and told him that making a statement as the first Black actor in Star Wars wasn’t on my radar, even though others might have it on theirs. I explained that, to me, Lando Calrissian sounded Armenian. He wore a cape. He was like nobody else.
“I’m thinking of myself as a man of the future,” I said, making sure he understood I had only one thing on my mind: I was going to enjoy the ride into the Star Wars universe.
My first stop on that adventure was my fitting at the Berman costume company. I walked in thinking about Raymond Massey in the movie Things to Come, the 1936 dystopian science fiction classic written by none other than H. G. Wells, which had fascinated me as a kid. To me, Massey had personified the future. When he gazed up at the stars, you knew you were going someplace. I wasn’t obsessed with science fiction, but I read my share of books, and I marveled at the way those authors were able to forecast the future.
I approached Lando the same way. I pictured him as a mix of styles, but none so obvious that audiences would sit and think about it. I grew my hair out but told my longtime hair stylist Bruce Johnson that I didn’t want an Afro. I wasn’t going to let myself get trapped in either Black or White. The man wore a cape. He was different. He was dashing. He was a charmer. He was…the future. He couldn’t be categorized. He was a portrait no one had ever painted before. In colors no one had ever seen before. He stopped you at “Hello.” He was a new experience.
In other words, Lando!
My first glimpse of the Cloud City sets at the famous Elstree Studios outside London confirmed that I was leaving the real world for another universe. I was surprised at how much of the detail wasn’t there and would be filled in later through special effects. It confirmed that I was exactly where I wanted to be—part of something different, out there, next wave.
I was nervous when I finally did meet Harrison, Carrie, and Mark on set. They were already a little family, and I wanted to fit in. They welcomed me in their own way: Harrison with a firm handshake and few words. He was like me. Mark had a generous enthusiasm and was extraordinarily bright. Carrie was cool in the best way. “Just learn your lines and don’t run into any asteroids,” she advised.
Even with daily script updates and rewrites, Kershner ran a comfortable and efficient set. He had long discussions with actors. Tea was served in the late afternoon. It helped me get into the rhythm of acting against blue screens and responding to elements that would be inserted by computer later—which made me a little uptight at the beginning, as I was a perfectionist who acted on feel, and when acting against a blue screen, there’s nothing to feel other than what’s in your imagination.
Luckily, I still had a six-year-old’s ability to pretend and thoroughly believe it. I spoke to Chewbacca and Boba Fett as if they were real, and easily slipped into hero mode when it was time for Lando to rescue Luke Skywalker from beneath Cloud City. It was my first scene with Mark. In the movie, this scene came toward the end and was part of a chain of events stemming from a deal Lando made with Darth Vader to save Cloud City. As a result, he appeared not only to sell out his best friend, Han Solo, but also to send the legendary Rebel Alliance fighter to his demise and jeopardize everyone else in the process.
Between takes, Mark and I joked about the memo everyone had recently received reminding us that everything about the movie was to be kept secret. We knew that, of course. We also knew the warning was intended for actor David Prowse, who played Darth Vader and tended to speak freely to just about anyone who asked him a question. As a result, the production company assigned someone to keep a log of leaks—and who was responsible—and they were usually traced back to this gentle, personable man. Who would have thought Darth Vader was such a gossip?
With my buddy Harrison on the set of The Empire Strikes Back
With Irv Kershner, an extraordinary director and human being
* * *
—
Elstree Studios was about a forty-five-minute drive from my London hotel. I had time to explore the city. I took long walks, saw theater, and visited museums. One weekend I met Joni Mitchell for lunch. I knew her through Wayne Shorter and his friend, pianist Herbie Hancock. On another one of my days off, Vanessa Redgrave spent the afternoon at my hotel, trying to persuade me to get involved in the Palestinian fight for independence against Israel. As she found out, I was not recruitable.
After several months in London, we finally shot my opening scene: Lando welcoming Han, Princess Leia, Chewie, and C-3PO to Cloud City, where they have landed Han’s ship, the Millennium Falcon, for repairs. (Lando had, of course, owned the Millennium Falcon before losing it to Han in a game of Corellian Spike sabacc, a card game played across the galaxy.) This is Lando’s introduction, the first time the audience will see him, the first time Han has seen him in ages, and the first time Princess Leia meets him.
This was the moment I had been thinking about and preparing for since signing onto the movie. How to strike just the right note. I wanted to be smooth, charming, and heroic—but in a way where people wondered whether it was real or a front. Did I have an alliance with anyone but myself? Han trusted me, to a point—and the others less so. The audience had to feel the same way.
That was the beauty of playing Lando. It was the best opportunity I could imagine as an actor. I wanted to take this character in my own direction and see how far I could push it. I took the two ideas originally presented to me—his name and his cape—and attempted to say to the audience, I know what you expect, but I’m not going to be that guy. Instead, let me take you on a journey.
The scene was pushed a few days. I was eager to work with Harrison and Carrie. They were already family, and I wanted to enter their world on good terms, which meant making them comfortable with me while also feeling comfortable myself. Apparently they had been up all night partying with the Rolling Stones, but I was oblivious to their extracurricular activities. I don’t care what people do on their own time. I’m more concerned about myself, and God only knows what I was doing while they were with Mick and Keith and friends. None of that even mattered once Kershner had his shot set up. When he was ready to roll film, we were, too. In the scene, Lando greets his old pal Han, does likewise to legendary Wookie fighter Chewbacca, and meets Princess Leia for the first time. C-3PO also gets an introduction, though that’s beside the point.
First up was reconnecting with Han, a crucial moment setting the tone for Lando throughout the movie. The audience doesn’t know what to expect when Lando enters the landing platform where the Millennium Falcon has come after escaping attack. Han tells Leia that Lando is a friend but then warns Chewie to be alert. As they approach each other, Lando calls Han “a double-crossing swindler” and says he has “a lot of guts” coming to Cloud City. It’s not clear whether he’s going to hit his old friend or hug him.
After faking a punch, Lando warmly embraces Han and says, “How you doing, ya old pirate? So good to see ya!” It’s hard to know whether to believe him when it’s revealed that he lost the Millennium Falcon to Han in a card game. “Fair and square,” Han reminds him. Really? The whole exchange does nothing to address whether Lando can be trusted, and neither does Chewie’s reaction when Lando says, “And how’re you doing, Chewbacca? Still hanging around with this loser?”
I loved the scene then, and still love the way it plays. Harrison was the model of acting efficiency and generosity. He did so much in that scene by doing so little, and he allowed me to work.
Lando’s tone changes the moment he sets eyes on Princess Leia. Though exaggerated for the camera, this bit of acting was as close to the real me—or the version of me that lives in my fantasies—as the character got. Carrie was one of those people whose entire being was adorable, with a disarming smile and expressive eyes that were windows into a dazzling mind.
One look and you were under her spell. I certainly felt that way. And what a remarkable spell it was: untold depths of brilliance, humor, sex appeal, shenanigans, danger, and mystery. The daughter of Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher, she was Hollywood royalty. She knew everyone. She was hip. She was hilarious. She was brilliant. She was beautiful. And on top of all that, she was Princess Leia.
“Hello, what have we here?”
The point being, when Leia stepped into view and Lando glimpsed her for the first time, I didn’t have to pretend to turn up the charm as I said, “Hello, what have we here?” My smile was real. I took her hand, put it to my lips, and welcomed her aboard, only to have Han snatch her away from what he knew was a charm trap. “You old smoothie,” he said. Finally, as we move on, C-3PO attempts to introduce himself to Cloud City’s chief administrator, but Lando just ignores him. It was a lovely little button to the scene. We were enjoying ourselves. As actors, it was playtime.
* * *
—
I worked thirty-nine days and flew home from England still without knowing any of the details about the movie other than the scenes I was in. I had no idea how they were going to stitch everything together, but that was the magic of making movies, especially this one, and testimony to the genius of George Lucas. He knew. It was all in his head.
I had total faith in him and Irv. I had no doubt Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back was going to be another transformative experience in my life and career. I knew the risks of thinking that way, the likelihood of disappointment, since there are no sure things, though this movie was as close to one as it got. I chose not to renew my long-standing contract with Berry, who was frustrated by the movie business, and thankfully that decision didn’t affect our close friendship. I met with new reps; whatever I wanted to do, they were in.
After a leisurely summer with my kids, I starred in the made-for-TV thriller The Hostage Tower, a hostage rescue that takes place on the Eiffel Tower. It co-starred Peter Fonda and Maud Adams, and shot in Paris, with most of the scenes taking place on engineer Gustave Eiffel’s crowning achievement. I was able to see the landmark in a way few people ever do. Peter and I had dinner several times in Montmartre but never got close. I fared better with Maud, the Swedish beauty and former Bond girl. She knew the city and took me to a party where I met a Russian dancer who’d recently defected.
The Hostage Tower also included Celia Johnson, who’d starred in the 1945 romance Brief Encounter, and Douglas Fairbanks Jr., whose legendary father was in my childhood favorites, The Mark of Zorro, The Thief of Bagdad, and Robin Hood. One morning I spotted him in our hotel lobby with two young women. He just smiled.
A few days later, he handed me a copy of his autobiography. No further explanation was needed. I saw his life was filled with adventure.
* * *
—
On May 17, 1980, I was in Washington, D.C., for the premiere of Star Wars: Episode V—The Empire Strikes Back. Held at the Kennedy Center, with Eunice Kennedy Shriver, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and President Carter’s teenage daughter, Amy, in attendance, the event was one of my favorite movie premieres ever because, unlike typical red-carpet galas, this one took place on a Saturday morning for an audience of six hundred children, half of whom were from the Special Olympics. It was one of the most enthusiastic groups of moviegoers I have ever sat with in a theater. They clapped and cheered the entire two hours.
Afterward, there was lunch with the entire cast, including three-foot-eight-inch Kenny Baker, who played R2-D2, seven-footer Peter Mayhew, who was Chewbacca, and the almost-as-tall David Prowse, who persuaded kids that it was okay to like Darth Vader—at least out of costume. Harrison, Carrie, Mark, and I did one interview after another. I said the same thing: I was astounded when I first saw the movie. I loved being a part of the new moviemaking technology. And I really enjoyed myself.
Then we were off to London for the Royal Premiere. I flew with Teruko and Hanako, now seven years old, who became my date after my wife got sick. At the reception that followed the screening, we waited in a formal line to meet Princess Margaret. I stood next to Mark Hamill, and just before the princess reached us, I whispered to him that it was against the law to look her in the eye. I was joking, of course, but I think for a moment or two he believed me. Hanako, dressed like a little princess herself, including little white gloves, was adorable as she curtsied when I introduced her to Princess Margaret.
