Playboy Interview: Samuel L. Jackson

Name the actor who has appeared in more big movies in the Nineties: Hanks, Schwarzenegger, Cruise, Willis, Williams? The answer is none of the above. The distinction goes to Samuel L. Jackson, the most prolific African American actor in history—whose movies have earned a total of $1.2 billion this decade. And that doesn't count Jackson's latest film, Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, the first of the Star Wars prequels and the most eagerly anticipated film of the year.

Despite all those sold tickets, not to mention enough popcorn to fill the Grand Canyon, Jackson remains one of the most under-rewarded actors in the movie business. Consider that Matthew McConaughey, who got his first big role opposite Jackson in the adaptation of John Grisham's A Time to Kill, soon commanded $6 million a picture—a figure it took Jackson more than 15 years to achieve. And McConaughey hasn't had another hit since.

But that doesn't seem to bother Jackson, who is known to be a regular guy in a business of prima donnas. Instead of grumbling, Jackson is busy working—as his long and varied list of credits proves.

Perhaps none of Jackson's roles has made more of an impression than his portrayal of Jules Winnfield, the hit man in Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction. Dialogue with his murderous partner, played by John Travolta, and Jackson's recitations of Ezekiel 25:17 as prelude to his assassinations, are some of the most unforgettable moments in any movie. The role, created by Tarantino after the director saw Jackson's performance in Spike Lee's Jungle Fever, earned Jackson his first Oscar nomination. (The Academy Awards show that year was also memorable. When he lost to Martin Landau's performance in Ed Wood, Jackson did what previous losers may have thought but never dared do on live TV: He said, "Shit." And we knew it because we read his lips.)

Besides Pulp Fiction, Jackson has appeared in a wide variety of movies (there have been more than 40 features in all) and rarely does he look the same. He played the earnest sidekick to Harrison Ford in Patriot Games, a reluctant sidekick to Bruce Willis in Die Hard With a Vengeance, a computer technician in Jurassic Park, an attorney in Losing Isaiah, a Don King–like promoter in The Great White Hype, a womanizing doctor in Eve's Bayou and a member of the Lufthansa heist team in Goodfellas.

Audiences like him and so do directors, many of whom call him back for subsequent films. He has been in four movies with Spike Lee, including Do the Right Thing, School Daze and Jungle Fever, and Tarantino followed up Pulp Fiction by casting him as Ordell Robbie in Jackie Brown. (That character—who repeatedly uses the word nigger—prompted a celebrated falling-out between Lee and Jackson.) Renny Harlin also called him back for encores in roles opposite Geena Davis in the raucous action film The Long Kiss Goodnight and then Deep Blue Sea. "I want Sam to be in every movie I make," says Harlin. "Aside from being one of the best actors, he's respected by everyone on the set. When you have to get your cast to stand in cold water for hours, shooting a scene over and over, it's much easier when they see Sam doing it and never complaining." Says Joel Schumacher, director of A Time To Kill: "Sam can be sitting around joking, but when you say, 'Action,' he becomes the most intense and focused actor. I've never seen anyone with the facility to transform himself that quickly."

Jackson had a modest upbringing in segregated Chattanooga, Tennessee, where he was raised by his mother, Elizabeth, his grandparents and an aunt. His father abandoned the family and quit the Army so he wouldn't have to pay child support. Father and son did not meet again until Jackson was grown—it was not a storybook reunion.

As a child, Jackson enjoyed movies and TV and was a voracious reader. In high school he swam competitively, ran hurdles on the track team, played horn in the marching band and was senior class president.

He enrolled at Morehouse College in Atlanta intending to become a marine biologist. That plan changed when he acted in his first play, a production of The Threepenny Opera, and was introduced to two lasting passions: the theater and his future wife, LaTanya Richardson.

During the Sixties, Jackson was part of a group of student activists who locked up campus trustees in an effort to get more student input into school decisions. For his short-lived involvement in campus politics, Jackson was temporarily suspended, but he returned and graduated with a BA in drama in 1972.

With Richardson and other actors, he formed a theater company and, in 1976, moved with her to New York to pursue a stage career. Both he and LaTanya—they have been together 29 years and married for 19—acted steadily, though he had to fill in with other jobs to make ends meet. Still, he made a name for himself in such productions as A Soldier's Play, The Piano Lesson (he originated the lead role that later earned a Tony nomination for Charles S. Dutton) and Two Trains Running, along with his first small parts in films and such TV shows as Spenser: For Hire. His wife, who would later appear in Malcolm X, U.S. Marshals and as Jackson's opposing attorney in Losing Isaiah, performed in Colored Girls and other productions.

Jackson admits he was a heavy drug user and alcoholic in those days. He claims he outpartied almost everyone until, after eight months on crack, he succumbed to pressure from his wife and entered a rehab program. He kicked the habit just in time to land the role that launched him into the limelight, in Spike Lee's Jungle Fever. He played a crack addict.

He made his debut as a producer with Eve's Bayou (and is also producing other films, including a police drama with Matt Damon called Training Day). His most recent coup is landing the role of Shaft, the tough-guy detective portrayed by Richard Roundtree in the 1971 film being remade by director John Singleton.

When he's not working, Jackson is home in Encino, California with LaTanya and their 17-year-old daughter, Zoe. Whether he is working or not, he indulges his other obsession, golf; in his movie deals, he insists on a clause that allows for golf time and greens fees.

With The Phantom Menace hitting the theaters, we asked Daily Variety columnist Michael Fleming (who previously interviewed, Robert Downey Jr. and Joe Eszterhas for Playboy) to track doiun the hardworking actor. Here's Fleming's report:

"I met Jackson at the Sunset Marquis Hotel in West Hollywood just before his 50th birthday. In his sunglasses, trademark black Kangol cap and matching shirt, Jackson looked incredibly cool and confident after playing 54 holes of golf. (Yes, he loves the game.) A waiter interrupted our conversation to pay his respects, gushing about how he admired Jackson's performance with Ellen Barkin in Bad Company. 'That was Fishburne,' Jackson said after the waiter left, acknowledging that this wasn't the first time he'd been mistaken for Laurence. But rather than embarrass the fan, he laughed about it and mentioned later that he has frequently given out Fishburne's autograph, and Fishburne his.

"As the first interview session came to a close, Jackson seemed giddy as he headed off to collect his birthday present to himself. He showed it off the next morning, when he pulled up at the hotel in a new black Porsche convertible. Jackson is as cool as he is calculating. Confessing he'd gotten standard shift, he said, 'My daughter only drives an automatic.'"

[Q] Playboy: You could not have chosen a more eagerly anticipated film than the latest Star Wars episode. How did you get the gig?

[A] Jackson: When I do interviews, someone always asks, "Are there any directors you want to work with?" I usually say no. Normally I just read scripts, and whatever director comes with the script is fine. But I realized George Lucas was about to do Star Wars, and I really wanted to be in a Star Wars movie. So in interviews I started saying, "I'd really love to work with George Lucas." As a result, George invited me to his ranch. I told him, "I don't care what part you give me. I'll be a stormtrooper—anything." He said, "Probably the most you'd be saying is, 'Look out! Duck!' Stuff like that." And I said, "George, that's cool. Anything."

[Q] Playboy: In the end, Lucas made you a Jedi. Is that a fantasy come true?

[A] Jackson: Oh, yeah. There was a great moment on the set when a guy came over with a bunch of light sabers in a case and said, "Pick one."

[Q] Playboy: How did you choose? Come to think of it, what was it like to wield one of those mythical weapons?

[A] Jackson: I didn't get the chance to use it. But the good news is that my character doesn't die and there's another movie coming. I think I've got a shot at it.

[Q] Playboy: You share scenes with Yoda. Any problems playing opposite a legendary puppet?

[A] Jackson: George Lucas doesn't give you the whole script, just your scenes, and it was the coolest thing to find out that I would be interacting with Yoda. It meant my role would be an important part of the film. I'm sitting there, trying to keep it together and get into my character, but I'm also thinking, Wow. I can't believe I'm here with Yoda.

[Q] Playboy: How does it feel to become a Star Wars action figure?

[A] Jackson: It actually looks like me. After Jurassic Park, my relatives were asking, "Where's your action figure?" I didn't have one. Now I do.

[Q] Playboy: This movie had more advance press than almost any movie in history. Does that add to the pressure?

[A] Jackson: The expectations are pretty high. I'm sure there will be favorable and unfavorable comparisons. We did our work, but it was all in George's hands. George is very calm. Nothing bothers him. There was stuff going on that would have made most directors crazy—things falling in the background, noise, planes flying over. And George goes, "OK, print it." I guess he has to do so much in postproduction that it's not a big deal. He's the only one who knows how the stuff works anyway.

[Q] Playboy: You have been in an average of two or three films a year for the past five years. Do you worry that you could become overexposed?

[A] Jackson: And therefore I should work less? Are you kidding? First of all, I'm selective about what I do, but I want to work as much as I can. Movie stars do one movie a year for $20 million, but I'm not one of those guys. I don't make that much money and don't need it, but I do need to work for the comfortable lifestyle we have. I am also aware that eventually all of this is going to stop. The phone stops ringing for everybody: Gregory Peck, Sidney Pokier. Everybody. So while I'm able, I'll generate as much income as I can. And come on, Travolta makes $20 million a picture and he makes four movies a year. Nobody mentions that.

[Q] Playboy: Do you resent the pay difference between you and Travolta?

[A] Jackson: It's a sliding pay scale. It's about putting butts into seats. Producers and studio heads don't look to me for that. They don't say, "Let's give him $20 million because the movie's going to open huge because of his name."

[Q] Playboy: The number of films you've done has made you the top-grossing actor of the decade. But to be fair, neither Jurassic Park nor Die Hard are thought of as Samuel L. Jackson movies.

[A] Jackson: True. They aren't movies driven by me. They could have put anybody in Jurassic Park. The dinosaurs were the stars of that one. Die Hard is a Bruce Willis vehicle, and that's cool—I knew that going in. But it could have been a run-of-the-mill chase movie. Put people like me and Jeremy Irons in it and you have real human beings alongside that superman, John McClane. So we do bring something to the party.

[Q] Playboy: You seem the opposite of the $20 million-a-picture guys, who continue to play variations of the same character time after time.

[A] Jackson: There are guys who are very successful doing that. They get painted into a corner and they get this look on their faces, and all of a sudden you know, "OK, now he's getting ready to fix this thing." People pay money to see that, and that's what I want when I pay to see a Harrison Ford film. But that's not who I am. And people accept the fact that even my hair's not always going to be the same. I'm not going to talk the same. I play guys with different social ambitions. I like bad guys.

[Q] Playboy: How do you choose films? Are you trying to mix big action movies with art films?

[A] Jackson: I don't think about that—my agents and managers do. I just work. When I was in the theater I was always doing a play and auditioning for another at the same time. Now, I am constantly looking for my next movie. I don't have jobs lined up or scripts lying around my house.

[Q] Playboy: In The Negotiator, 187 and The Long Kiss Goodnight, you played parts originally written for white actors. Do you ever miss out on roles you want because of your race?

[A] Jackson: I go to meetings all the time to convince people I'm the actor they should hire. If I read a script I like, I go to my agent or manager and say, "I really like this. Do you think I could get a meeting to discuss it?" They call and the producers go, "Sam Jackson! We never thought of going that way. Wow! That's interesting." Sometimes they ask me to come in to discuss it, and I end up convincing them that the dynamics of the story won't change because I'm African American. Before I got 187, I sat there with director Kevin Reynolds for an hour and a half, explaining how I would make the movie better. They wanted someone white, but I explained that we've all seen Dangerous Minds, in which a white teacher goes into an inner-city school and the kids hate her because she's white. But 187 was about authority figures and not about race. If you put somebody like me in the school and students still rebel, it's more interesting. Reynolds got it, but not until I talked to him.

[Q] Playboy: Do you take it personally when race stops you from getting a role you want?

[A] Jackson: I liked the script for the lead role of a priest in a Fox movie called The Sin Eater. It went to Antonio Banderas. Nobody could wrap their mind around a black priest [laughs]. It's nobody's fault. I think I only do the jobs I'm supposed to do.

[Q] Playboy: No resentment?

[A] Jackson: If a director doesn't hire me, I feel sorry for him.

[Q] Playboy: You once said you received lots of scripts turned down by Denzel Washington. Whose fingerprints are on the scripts you get now?

[A] Jackson: It's the same story. They tell me, "We want you, Sam, but we need a star." They get a Tommy Lee Jones and send the script out to a Harrison Ford. But that's cool, because the guy who's investing the money is looking at the foreign pre-sale potential with those two guys after The Fugitive. Now at least there are better fingerprints on the scripts I get. They're not just ethnic fingerprints. They're $20 million–star prints. It makes me feel better.

[Q] Playboy:The Long Kiss Goodnight was written for a white guy. To make a big budget action movie with a female heroine was unusual; to pair her with a black sidekick and include a few sexual sparks was unheard of. Did you have to do some convincing on that one?

[A] Jackson: My character, Mitch, was written white, yeah. And that was another script I'd been chasing awhile. I campaigned and campaigned, and people would dance around and say, "Well, we don't know." Renny Harlin was to direct it, and I ran into him at a dinner party one night and we talked. He had no problem with it, and his wife, Geena Davis, was playing the woman. So it was done. The story changed, though. At one point there was a tryst between the two characters. They fell into bed and had sex. But I wasn't in favor of it. It had nothing to do with race. My reasoning was that it was better to keep the tension. If they started fucking, there was nowhere to go with it—like in most relationships.

[Q] Playboy: Harlin felt that movie didn't do as well as it should have because of racism—people didn't want to see a black man in a close relationship with a white woman. Do you agree?

[A] Jackson: That doesn't fly with me. I think it was more that it was a women's film. Women like seeing themselves empowered, and one was empowered here. But they marketed it to men. Instead of buying commercial time on football games, they should have bought time on daytime soaps. It was bad marketing. No matter where I go in the world, women come up to me and tell me how much they loved that movie. They should have marketed it to women.

[Q] Playboy: A decade ago, there were far fewer opportunities for African American actors. The best that Lou Gossett Jr. could do after his Oscar-winning role in An Officer and a Gentleman was Jaws 3-D. Now there's a wealth of black actors: you, Washington, Will Smith, Eddie Murphy, Morgan Freeman, Cuba Gooding Jr., Ving Rhames, Laurence Fishburne, Wesley Snipes and Don Cheadle. Has the world changed?

[A] Jackson: As the number of black filmmakers increases, the world changes. I grew up in a segregated society and I am part of the last generation that remembers it. Even down South people have gone to school and interacted with blacks, Asians and Hispanics all their lives now. They see the world differently. And now blacks, Asians and Hispanics are going to film school waving their own money, and making their own films.

[Q] Playboy: But isn't race still an issue? In the foreign advertising for White Sands, they used posters with a faraway shot of you carrying a briefcase through the desert—only they made you white.

[A] Jackson: Yeah. They tried to tell me, "We don't want to give away the plot of the movie." Right. That was a South African guy who was the head of marketing. So we just attribute it to him not really understanding. We made him pull the poster and the next thing you know, the guy in it has his back to the camera. But he still has Caucasian hair. OK, fine. It's one of those things. They didn't want posters circulating with some black guy on them, but with Die Hard there were posters all over Europe with my face on them. Some had Jeremy Irons, some had Bruce and some had me. So what does that tell you? Is it really bad marketing in Europe to use a black face?

[Q] Playboy: Is Hollywood racist?

[A] Jackson: This business is about making money. An actor's job is to get butts in the seats. I get that. So when they want a big-name white guy, I understand it. But there's still an element that wants to hold down the number of ethnic people in movies. When Rush Hour became a big hit, a lot of the white executives were saying, "That Jackie Chan movie is going through the roof!" I'd ask, "What Jackie Chan movie?" They'd say, "Rush Hour," and I'd say, "That's not a Jackie Chan movie. It's a Chris Tucker movie." "No," they'd say, "Jackie Chan's really big in America." I'd say, "What the fuck are you talking about? The last two movies Jackie Chan released here didn't make $5 million. All of a sudden this opens at almost $20 million? Those are black people coming out to see Chris Tucker." They never even considered it. If they were to try doing Rush Hour II without Chris, they'd see how much they would make. Nobody other than Chris Tucker could have made some bullshit like Money Talks and still have it make a profit. My boy Charlie Sheen was there, but it's not a Charlie Sheen movie. It's a Chris Tucker movie. But Hollywood's ignoring that these movies are successful because of Chris keeps him out of the $20 million club.

[Q] Playboy: Are you politically active?

[A] Jackson: I go to premieres, and folks start asking me, "How do you feel about the president?" I think, What the fuck do people care what I think about the president? I'm an actor. All those actors out there stumping for this candidate or that candidate, it's bullshit. They don't do anything past that. They raise some money and they're out of there. Or they just voice their opinion: "That Dalai Lama is my boy."

[Q] Playboy: So your soapbox message is for celebrities to get off their soapboxes?

[A] Jackson: Just pay your taxes. Stop standing up and saying, "We need to lend our money to so-and-so." You make $20 million a picture. Shut the fuck up and give them a million dollars. Don't ask Joe Everyday for $5. He might need that $5. You've got money to burn. I don't like giving my political opinions. Paparazzi don't bother me. I'm not punching guys with cameras. I know that's their job, and if you don't want to get caught fucking, don't fuck around [laughs]. The more of a grasp I can have of myself as an everyday guy who just happens to have an unusual job, the better off my life is going to be. I don't think I'm extraordinary.

[Q] Playboy: You make the bad guys you play—the really bad guys, such as Jules Winnfield in Pulp Fiction and Ordell Robbie in Jackie Brown—likable. What's the trick?

[A] Jackson: You humanize them. Jules was more than just a hit man. He killed people for a living, but he was a real guy: He watches TV, goes to the store, has a girlfriend. He's a regular guy with an interesting job. Ordell is a dangerous guy, too, but he's fun to be around. He talks like everybody else. He fights with his girlfriend like everybody else. Bad guys are people, too. Most people think that if you're playing a killer, you've got to be emotionless. But killers have kids at home. They don't sit at home all day and clean their guns and shine their bullets. They watch TV and play with their kids and help them do their homework.

[Q] Playboy: Do the humanizing facts come from the script?

[A] Jackson: Depends. If the character isn't fleshed out in the script, I make up the rest of the story myself: a birthplace, a social stratum, if he had parents, what his parents did. In high school, was he a jock? A recluse? A smartass? You put this together and create a whole person, so that when you show up on-screen, you're complete. The guy carries himself upright because he's always been very proud, or an athlete. If he's not so proud, he slumps.

[Q] Playboy: Some great actors stay in character between takes. On Last of the Mohicans, Daniel Day-Lewis apparently stayed in character, acting like Daniel Boone, whether he was doing a scene or not. Robert De Niro did the same thing during Goodfellas. Have you tried method acting?

[A] Jackson: As soon as they say cut, Sam shows up. My telephone rings. It's my agent. How would Daniel Day-Lewis deal with that? His agent calls him in the middle of a shooting day, he doesn't want to talk to fuckin' Daniel Boone. He wants to talk to Daniel Day-Lewis! Guess he couldn't watch TV in his trailer, either: "Strange box stealing spirit." If it works for him, fine. It's the bad actors who do it that bother me.

[Q] Playboy: Quentin Tarantino wrote the part of Jules in Pulp Fiction for you. How did that come about?

[A] Jackson: Right after Jungle Fever, Quentin wanted to meet with me and thought I was perfect for this thing he was writing. We met somewhere off of Hollywood Boulevard, sat there having dinner and talking about stuff like Hong Kong movies. He never told me what he was writing, just that he hoped I would like it. The script came in a plain brown wrapper with a Jersey Films logo on it. It said, "If you show this to anybody, two guys from Jersey will break your legs." I read it and, damn, I couldn't believe it. When I finished it, I actually went right back to the beginning and read it through again. Awesome script. I thought, If whoever produces this will leave it alone and just shoot it like it is on these pages, it's going to be awesome. Still, I didn't think it was going to be one of those off-the-board hits.

[Q] Playboy: Though it was written for you, you almost lost the role.

[A] Jackson: Yeah. One day I got a phone call asking me to come and read through the part, because they wanted to hear what Jules sounded like. So I did. In the meantime I'd been cast in the movie Fresh. I went to New York to shoot Fresh for Lawrence Bender, who was also the producer of Pulp Fiction. I got wind that some actor had auditioned for another role so small that he read Jules' part so they could see what he could do. And he'd blown them out of the room. All of a sudden, it's, "Sam was good, but this guy just blew us away."

[Q] Playboy: What did you do?

[A] Jackson: I said, "What the hell do you mean, giving my job to somebody else?" My agents and managers are calling [executive producers] Harvey and Bob Weinstein, telling them that nobody said I had to audition. Harvey and Bob called Quentin and Lawrence and told them, "OK, to be fair, Sam's got to read again." All of a sudden I'm in an acting contest. Me and this other actor, who I won't name. I'm in New York shooting Fresh, and I have to get on the redeye on a Saturday night to get to LA on a Sunday and audition. I'm on the plane, scribbling furiously, writing notes in the margins, underlining the beats and doing this whole thing I normally do over the course of a project, or what I would have done had I known I was auditioning. I get to the studio and nobody's there. The place is empty. Maybe half an hour later, everybody files in. Quentin, Lawrence, all these other guys. And Lawrence goes to introduce me to another producer, who says, "You don't need to introduce me to this man. I love your work, Mr. Fishburne." I'm like, Damn! He doesn't even know who the fuck I am or why I'm here. Now I'm really pissed, just steaming. Fuck them. We start with the first scene with John and me in the car. They got this guy they've hired to read. He's reading and I'm doing my Jules thing. And all of a sudden, he stops reading. I'm thinking, What the hell's going on? And I realize this guy's lost, because he's watching me. He's caught up in what's going on. So I know I'm cooking. We go through the killing room scene and we get to the diner, that last huge speech I make. The whole room's getting excited. And I look around and everybody's like, "Whoa." I get up, real professional, and I split, go back to New York. And when Lawrence comes back, he tells me, "Well, the job's yours." Turns out that the reason nobody was around when I got there was they had all gone to lunch because the other guy had come in again before me and had done this fabulous job, and they were sitting there trying to figure out how they were going to tell me they cast the guy. But Lawrence said that until I did that last speech in the diner, they never had seen how the movie was supposed to end.

[Q] Playboy: Your dialogue in the film is some of the most memorable ever. Was it all exactly as written in the script or did you improve it?

[A] Jackson: About 98 percent of what's onscreen was on the page. Why would you change something so good? I'm not a writer, though I know how characters talk. I may have put a word in a character's mouth with Quentin's permission, but it was all in the script. Quentin thinks he writes great black dialogue; he writes interesting black dialogue, but it's not pure. Like most white people, he'll put an "I be" somewhere because it's supposed to sound black. I'd never say that. I went to school. The character, even if he didn't go to school, has heard enough people talk to know better—nobody talks like that anymore. You have to be real, real dumb to talk that way. So I fixed things up a little.

[Q] Playboy: You apparently got into a war of words with Spike Lee over the dialogue in the subsequent Tarantino film, Jackie Brown. He objected to the use of the N word.

[A] Jackson: Come on, you can say it [laughs]. In truth, I wasn't trying to defend Quentin or shoot Spike down. I've said "nigger" in Spike Lee movies. He just thought Quentin used the word excessively. People have said that about Pulp Fiction too. The Hughes brothers came to me with that very same thing. "What the fuck is up with Quentin and this 'nigger' thing?" I said, "And how many times did you use it in Menace II Society?" "Oh, that's different." "Bullshit. You wrote your script, he wrote his." With Ordell, I may have said it three times more than Quentin wrote, because that was who Ordell was. For Spike to say, "Well, I use the word at home, but Quentin's got no right." Bullshit. And if he really thought Quentin was a racist, why put him in Girl 6? He had Quentin in Girl 6 looking at a black woman's breasts. Was that a metaphorical master–slave thing we didn't get? [Laughs]

[Q] Playboy: You were in most of Spike Lee's early movies but none of the recent ones. Why?

[A] Jackson: We have our differences. After Jungle Fever, he wanted me to work for scale in Malcolm X and I wouldn't do it. I worked for scale on Do the Right Thing and Mo' Better Blues, but not on Fever. He said that as a producer, he was working for scale. I said that was beside the point. I'd work with Spike if all the elements were correct, if he were going to pay an honest wage. But I haven't seen a Spike Lee script since Fever. Spike may believe that he can't afford me, which is fine. It might be true.

[Q] Playboy: You're apparently flexible. We understand you were paid about $5 million for The Negotiator, but $250,000 for Jackie Brown.

[A] Jackson: I got a great big check from Jackie Brown the other day. There's that back-end thing. Spike never said to me, "Let's share the profits." He's never said that to anybody. My problem with Malcolm X was, if this is for the people and it's about a higher purpose, then why don't we all get a point [a percentage of the film's profits]? Give everybody a point. He never talked about anything like that. Spike and I get along fine now, though. We had a talk about what happened, and he still believes Quentin could have edited out 40 of those "niggers" and the movie would have been the same. But I take as much responsibility for them as Quentin. I could have said something. If I'd thought it was offensive, I would have. Spike said Denzel got on Quentin when they were doing Crimson Tide. I don't know what happened between Quentin and Denzel, but when people give me this bullshit thing about being a role model and my effect on society, I say bullshit to you. If people want to know if I'm a role model, they should know I've been married to the same woman for 19 years. I drove my daughter's car pool until she started driving. I help her with her homework. I make up beds, I take out the garbage. I graduated from college. I can read and write. I can speak correctly. I treat everyone with respect. I pay my taxes. I've never been to jail. I think that's the stuff of a role model.

[Q] Playboy:Pulp Fiction brought you an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor. When you lost, the world saw your reaction on live TV. You clearly said, "Shit." Do you regret that moment?

[A] Jackson: Oh, no. Why would I? I always hated those four little pictures in the corners, when they name the winner and everybody claps in a phony manner. I hate that shit, because you know they're sitting there going, Fuck. Especially if they think they should have won.

[Q] Playboy: Martin Landau, who won for Ed Wood, was the favorite. Did you expect to win anyway?

[A] Jackson: It never crossed my mind going to the Academy Awards that year that I was going to win. I'd been to the Golden Globes, and Martin Landau had won. Screen Actors Guild, Martin Landau again. Only during that fleeting moment when they called my name did I say to myself, Well, maybe the law of averages is going to change things. It didn't, and I said, "Shit." I didn't care. It was no reflection on Martin Landau. But the strangest thing was that everybody kept saying to me, "You know, Martin Landau's been nominated three or four times and he hasn't won. You'll get another shot." And I said, "Bullshit. Morgan Freeman has been nominated three or four times, and he's never won. So what the fuck are you saying?"

[Q] Playboy: Do you think the violence in Pulp Fiction turned off the Academy's members?

[A] Jackson: Maybe, but do you think they really watched Ed Wood? I tried to watch Ed Wood three times and fell asleep each time. I'd wake up to that hissing you hear at the end of the tape. Never made it through The English Patient, either. Tried to watch it four times. By the time Willem Dafoe showed up, every time, I was gone. Hissss. I just couldn't hang. I didn't vote it Best Picture. If a movie can't keep me awake, how the hell can it be Best Picture?

[Q] Playboy: How important is winning an Oscar?

[A] Jackson: Not at all anymore. I'm over it. I mean, in a fair world I'd have three.

[Q] Playboy: For which films?

[A] Jackson:Jungle Fever, Pulp Fiction and A Time to Kill. Maybe four, with Jackie Brown [laughs]. In a fair world. It's not going to validate my career one way or another at this point. I walk down the street every day and people tell me how much they like my work. That's important. It's not about, "This is the award-winning role of the year," even though my agents and managers say that to me all the time. They said that shit about The Negotiator.

[Q] Playboy: One of the films you mentioned as Oscar worthy was A Time to Kill, which launched the career of Matthew McConaughey. But you've been critical of how director Joel Schumacher limited your character, the father who murders the rednecks who raped his daughter. Could you tell us why?

[A] Jackson: The first time I saw the film, I almost walked out. There was this huge scene I did, when I go to Jake's office before killing the guys. I'm talking to him about what happened to my daughter. I tell him the story he tells the jury at the end of the movie. About what they did, how she looks. When I finished the scene, everybody in the room had broken down. They said it was awesome. It was one of those feelings when you've done something and you think, I nailed the thing. Damn. That particular speech was my moment. I'm very good in the rest of the film, but that particular moment would have killed. I'm watching the film, and I'm like, "Wait a minute! The whole fucking scene's gone!" I had no idea. A Time to Kill would have been different. When I was doing it, it was a story about a man who loved his daughter so much he was willing to make this kind of sacrifice so the world would be a safe place for her. If her attackers were sent to prison, she would never feel safe, because they could get out. He had to kill them so she would know those two guys would never hurt her again. Every reference to his thought process was gone by the time the movie came out. It became a film about a guy who took the law into his own hands, and now he's trying to find a way to get out of it. That's not what I was doing, and it's my only deep regret about the film.

[Q] Playboy: Last year, you squared off with Kevin Spacey in The Negotiator, and now you're about to start Rules of Engagement with Tommy Lee Jones. You have also worked with Dustin Hoffman, Robert De Niro, Harvey Keitel and John Travolta. Is there a big difference working with actors of that caliber?

[A] Jackson: It's like being traded from the Clippers to the Bulls. I get to pass the ball with Jordan and he passes it back to me. That's how it is to work with those guys. Dustin will start making faces while he's doing his lines, or he'll do his line in a different way to try to get a different reaction. Kevin's really good about turning his head a certain way or turning a phrase in a certain way so you've got to say, "Wait a minute. You're upping the ante here? OK, let's go!" De Niro? The whole time we were doing Jackie Brown, I watched him. He didn't seem to be doing anything. But when I watch that movie I realize: Goddamn, he was kicking so much ass doing nothing.

[Q] Playboy: Who is the most unpredictable actor you've worked with?

[A] Jackson: That would be Nic Cage. He likes to constantly change. He doesn't like to do the same thing over and over. And once you realize that, it's kind of like, Oh, my God, what's he going to do now? [Laughs] I'm the opposite. I'm constant. I pride myself on playing the editing game before the editors get to me. If I'm doing a scene and I pick a glass up and take a drink, I'll pick the glass up and take a drink on the same line—the same word each time. I can tell a prop person how full the glass was.

[Q] Playboy: Of all the great actors you've worked alongside, is there one you most look up to?

[A] Jackson: Way back, when I was in New York, I worked with Morgan Freeman. He was on Broadway and I was watching him and I just totally forgot it was Morgan. I sat there then and said, "This is what I want to do." The more I watch him, the more I see the ease with which he does what he does. It's so convincing without being forced. It's effortless. I want to be that way. I would love to be thought of in the same vein as Morgan.

[Q] Playboy: You grew up in Chattanooga, raised by your mother, your grandparents and an aunt. What happened to your father?

[A] Jackson: He was in the Army when he married my mom and he never came back to Tennessee. He hung around Missouri, Philadelphia, had kids all over the place. I didn't run into him until much later on—about 16 years ago.

[Q] Playboy: What was it like to meet him?

[A] Jackson: I was on tour doing a play. My daughter had just been born. We were performing in Wichita. My grandmother always had kept in touch. Since we were close to Kansas City, her home, I said, "Let's go see her." He happened to be there. It was pretty bizarre.

[Q] Playboy: There must have been a million questions in your head.

[A] Jackson: Not really.

[Q] Playboy: Didn't you miss having a father around?

[A] Jackson: No. I accepted it. Most kids I knew who had fathers were in hell. Dads were kicking their asses and their families were in turmoil. My family was perfect. I had my grandfather, who was my best friend. We hung out together; we were the guys in the house. But when I went to my friends' houses and it was time for the fathers to kick asses, I went home [laughs]. Meanwhile, my father got out of the Army so he wouldn't have to pay my mom child support. She was broken up about that. She struggled, did what she had to do to make sure I was a guy.

[Q] Playboy: How did she make sure you were a guy?

[A] Jackson: When kids chased me home, she'd say, "You go back out there and fight." She sent me to the Y and made sure I played ball and swam. There were rules. I had to read, do my homework, make grades. I had discipline and a great family life.

[Q] Playboy: So you had no interest in developing a relationship with this man?

[A] Jackson: Seeing him was pathetic. We went walking with my six-month-old daughter. I gave him ten dollars he was going to give back before I left, which I never got. We ended up at this woman's house. I thought the woman was his girlfriend, but she happened to be his girlfriend's mother. His girlfriend was like 16 years old and she had a baby younger than my daughter. The older lady said, "When's the last time you and your father saw each other?" "Thirty-five years ago." She said, "Oh, God." She looked at her daughter, her daughter looked at her own daughter and all I could do was feel sorry for them because he was still doing the same dumb shit. And then we were talking about something and he said, "You don't talk back to your father like that." And I said, "Hey, we are just two guys talking. This is not a father–son moment."

[Q] Playboy: What happened to him?

[A] Jackson: He died about eight years ago. This doctor calls me from Kansas City and says, "Your father's kidneys are failing. We have to take extreme measures to keep him alive. Do you want us to do it?" I'm like, "Why are you calling me?" "Well, we may have to put him on life support." And I'm saying, "Who's going to be responsible for that? Don't keep him alive for me." I wasn't trying to be cold, but he wasn't my responsibility. I'm not going to make that decision. It didn't matter to me either way.

[Q] Playboy: Let's return to your childhood. Did you know any white kids when you lived in Chattanooga?

[A] Jackson: There were a couple in the neighborhood. We had rock fights with them. There was this one little kid who lived across the street, but my grandmother would never let us beat him up because he was a polite child. If we were walking down the street, he would speak to my grandmother, "Good morning, Miss Nigger." He would say to me, "Hi, nigger boy!" He was very proper about it and they wouldn't let us beat his ass, because he said Mister and Miss. It wasn't until high school, when I was part of things like the model United Nations or the Unicef drive, that I started to interact with white kids from across town.

[Q] Playboy: We've read about your suspension from Morehouse for taking part in a real-life version of The Negotiator, when you and a group took hostage the school trustees. What happened?

[A] Jackson: It was the Sixties, and I was part of a campus organization that wanted to change some of the rules. We wanted a student voice on the board of trustees. We wanted more black members on the board of trustees because basically the board was this group of white men who made the decisions about the school. We wanted community involvement because we had no contact with people outside the school. When students left campus, the guys in the neighborhood would just beat the shit out of them. We wanted to talk to the board about it and we petitioned them, and they said, "We don't have time for this." So just on a whim that day when they were there, we were outside and somebody said, "Well, let's make them talk to us." We went into the building, chained the doors from the inside and locked them. "You want to talk to us now?" And all of a sudden it was a hostage situation.

[Q] Playboy: One of the hostages was Martin Luther King's father.

[A] Jackson: Yeah. We let him go that day, only kept him a few hours. He was having a little heart problem. So we put him on a ladder and got him out.

[Q] Playboy: How did it end?

[A] Jackson: We made an amnesty deal with them: They weren't going to do anything to us if we let them go, because the board of trustees said we were right. Sure enough, we finished the year, and everybody went home. But then all of a sudden these registered letters came. "Come back to school to stand trial for what you've done." I got suspended.

[Q] Playboy: After graduating and doing some theater in Atlanta, you and LaTanya moved to New York to pursue the stage. What did you find in New York?

[A] Jackson: It was Halloween, 1976. I remember pulling into the Village, driving into that big Halloween parade on Christopher Street, going "What the hell is this?" It was so bizarre. I saw a nun crossing the street with a guy in a diaper. And the nun turned around and had a big green beard. I said, "I guess we've arrived." I did a play quickly. LaTanya landed a job in Colored Girls and went on the national tour. I was left in New York, and the next thing I knew I was a security guard. I was working from 11 p.m. until 7 in the morning and then going to auditions during the day.

[Q] Playboy: Were you discouraged?

[A] Jackson: No. I knew what I had to do. I was learning. I'd do this play, that play. I ended up working at the Shakespeare Festival and the Negro Ensemble Company. I was working with great people like Morgan Freeman and Adolph Caesar. It was a great time for black theater. All the black actors around town were working. The hoofers were working, too. Gregory Hines was doing a show. Everybody was working, so every Monday was like a big black party.

[Q] Playboy: That was also the period of your out-of-control partying. Was LaTanya with you during this time?

[A] Jackson: She was in the main room of the Penthouse in Hell.

[Q] Playboy: Did the partying affect your performances onstage?

[A] Jackson: No. In fact, I didn't know any other way to perform than being high. It started in the theater in college. It was a ritual. My friends and I would go to the theater, get dressed, put on our makeup and smoke a reefer and drink wine and cognac until it was time to do the play. We'd come offstage for a minute, take a couple hits off a joint and go back on. I've done plays on acid and everything else. We played whacked out of our minds every night. People I knew had no clue. Eighty percent of the actors I knew were acting on substances.

[Q] Playboy: In Jungle Fever you play a crack addict. You apparently knew about that drug from experience.

[A] Jackson: I never thought I was smoking crack. I always bought powder cocaine and cooked it myself, because I liked the process. People who smoke crack buy rocks. I thought I was freebasing, but as it turns out it's the same thing. I gravitated to it when I woke up one morning and could put a match up one side of my nose and pull it out the other side.

[Q] Playboy: Literally?

[A] Jackson: Yes. I said, "I've got to stop snorting this. I've got to smoke it now." It never occurred to me to stop using altogether. But smoking brings you to your knees pretty quick. I don't know how people do that shit for years.

[Q] Playboy: How long did you smoke crack?

[A] Jackson: Eight months. Devastating.

[Q] Playboy: How often did you do it?

[A] Jackson: As often as I could afford to.

[Q] Playboy: Your wife sent you to rehab when she found you slumped over the kitchen table with a pipe in your hand. Until that point, did she know how bad your problem was?

[A] Jackson: It was bad. There was hell in the house. I was not around. Or I was just always isolated, snappy and irritable.

[Q] Playboy: Did rehab help immediately?

[A] Jackson: Yeah. I guess I was ready. I hate to think that I was crying for help, but it was time for me to get caught. And it worked out. When I went into rehab, I was like everybody else, pissed off about being there and angry because I had let myself get put there. Angry with everybody because they were saying shit about me that was probably true but that I didn't want to hear. I did the family sessions, and I was going to leave her and all this other shit.

[Q] Playboy: Because LaTanya had committed you to the program?

[A] Jackson: Yeah. Half my friends felt like I did: "You don't have a problem. You just get fucked up like everybody else." They didn't have a clue either. Nobody knew how bad it was. But it woke me up. You think of why you're not where you should be. You're a good actor, everybody says that. But when you go to auditions, do you think you might smell like beer because you woke up that morning and had a beer and your eyes might be red because you smoked a joint? Duh. Think you might have slurred some words and didn't know it? Do you think that maybe you weren't as clean as you could have been when you walked into that room? This sudden realization occurred. So it was time to do a real clear evaluation of what was going on. I found out about alcoholism being a family disease. I never thought I was an alcoholic; I just drank all my life. But I was a blackout drinker. I would wake up in places and not know how I got there. And I was a drug user. If somebody could smoke a joint, I could smoke three. If you could drop one tab, I could do four. I was always in excess. When I bought a six-pack of beer, I drank six beers. I didn't save one for the next day. Once I figured this out about myself, it was easy to say, "OK, I've tried this for 23 or whatever years. Let's give this other way a shot and see what happens." That's when Jungle Fever came along. I'd done the research.

[Q] Playboy: Did your rehab counselors have an opinion about your playing a crack addict?

[A] Jackson: Those guys were always telling me some stupid shit: "If you take this role you're going to be handling crack pipes and lighters, and before you know it, you're going to be right back into it." All I knew was how much I was going to make—for eight weeks' work I was going to make like 40 grand. I was like, "Where the fuck are you going to get 40 grand in less than eight weeks? Fuck you." I said, "I will never come back here, if only because I never want to see you again." And I've been sober ever since, never relapsed.

[Q] Playboy: The role of Gator in Jungle Fever put your career on the map.

[A] Jackson: Definitely. It happened to be a perfect showcase for a lot of the skills I have. And it also happened to be a perfect opportunity for me to go through a kind of catharsis. To put to rest that part of my life. When Ossie Davis killed that character, I knew I could start over.

[Q] Playboy: Even before his father shot him, Gator seemed too far gone to be saved. How far from him were you when you stopped using crack?

[A] Jackson: I was him. I was wearing the same shit every day and didn't know it. I (continued on page 168)Samuel L. Jackson(continued from page 68) stopped sleeping in my bed. I was sleeping downstairs so I wouldn't have to bother. I was just this phantom guy passing through.

[Q] Playboy: You've been with LaTanya for 29 years, and married for 19 of them. Though she has made some big films, you're more often away on sets. Is she resentful?

[A] Jackson: No. Interestingly enough, she is in a pretty good place, personally and professionally. She works only when she wants to work. She doesn't have to work, so she'll go to things that interest her. She's not part of the rat race in the way she used to be, when she had to go to every cattle call and hope to get a job.

[Q] Playboy: What was it like working together on Losing Isaiah?

[A] Jackson: Because she has been acting on the stage since she was a kid, she is a lot more knowledgeable than I am. All of a sudden we were in a situation where I could be helpful to her. Telling her to keep it simple because she'd have to repeat the same thing over and over again. How to hit a mark, find her light and help the cameraman. It was enlightening for her to see that I had learned so much and was so comfortable doing it and that I could help her find a comfort zone. The only insistence I had was that we have separate dressing rooms and bathrooms. That way, I'd always be on time. I wouldn't be if I had to share a bathroom with her.

[Q] Playboy: The two of you played opposing attorneys. In real life, who wins the arguments?

[A] Jackson: She does, because I refuse to argue. You can't argue with someone who docan't argue back. I just say OK, nod my head, turn the television down and keep watching it. As long as she doesn't change my channel, I'm fine.

[Q] Playboy: How did growing up without a father affect your relationship with your daughter, Zoe?

[A] Jackson: I definitely believe that Zoe deserves two parents. Sometimes when you have those husband–wife things, you look at your kid and think maybe it would be easier to walk away and leave her with a single parent, or take the child yourself. But she needs to see a family dynamic, to see that people can fight and overcome it and still love each other and love her. It's part of her development as well as ours. We both grew up in homes that didn't have both parents. LaTanya grew up with her grandparents, and I grew up with mine. We emphasize the fact that Zoe needs two parents, and we find ways to work things out to make sure that's the case.

[Q] Playboy: What if your daughter decides to follow her parents and become an actor?

[A] Jackson: I think that she wants to be a director. She's been around this stuff all her life—at least around theater. When she was an infant, she was in the theater all the time. She sat with the stage manager and learned to call cues and do all that stuff. She comes to the set a lot with me. She hangs around directors and watches. She's a harsh critic. On Fridays she and her friends go to whatever's opening, and she'll come home and talk to me about the direction and the cinematography, the acting and all this other stuff. Last year when we went to a mini film festival and she was sitting there watching all these bad films, she said, "Dad, I could do better than that." And now she's talking about going to film school. I think it would be fabulous.

[Q] Playboy: We know you're a serious golfer. What's the appeal?

[A] Jackson: Four and a half years ago some friends took me out and forced me to play. They beat me pretty soundly and I said, "Wait a minute, these guys aren't athletes. They can't beat me playing anything else. I've got to get this game down." It's a great game, though. It's you, the golf course and this ball. It's not like the moving ball games I always played—baseball, softball, basketball. This ball is lying still on the ground. It's the hardest thing in the world to do. I can go out there some days and play like I'm on tour. Then the next day it's like I've never seen golf clubs before.

[Q] Playboy: Apparently you now have time to make it to the golf course, and greens fees are written into your contracts. When did you start that?

[A] Jackson: When I realized that I could [laughs]. The first time I went on location, after I'd started to play golf, I realized I was going to work and I might not be able to play. I didn't belong to a specific club, so I said to my manager, "I'm taking my golf clubs. I'd like to play golf." And they worked that out. I belong to a country club, but I don't treat golf as the elitist game I used to think it was back when I was a kid. I usually go to public golf courses to play. In my neighborhood there are four. I've been thrown in with 80-year-old women, 70-year-old guys, kids. It's an incredibly friendly game. You're out there and you're walking with these people. You spend four hours with them. You either end up hating some people or you spend some interesting time with them. You can find out a lot about people in four hours. And half the time they don't even know who the fuck I am.

[Q] Playboy: Do you enjoy that when it happens?

[A] Jackson: Yeah. [Laughs] Sometimes it'll take a while and then they'll go, "You're that actor guy, aren't you?" I'll say "Yeah." And they'll say, "Laurence Fish-burne, right?"

That's not who I am. My hair's not always going to be the same. I'm not going to talk the same. I play guys with different social ambitions. I like bad guys.