“Atlanta” on FX is back for a third season, and in the intervening years since the previous season concluded in 2018, the careers of those working both in front of and behind the camera have expanded considerably, including that of Brian Tyree Henry, who plays Alfred, a rapper who goes by the stage name Paper Boi.
This time out, his career has kicked into high gear with a European tour. “This doesn’t mean, however, that the (baloney) doesn’t follow him, you know what I mean?” Henry said. “I think it’s even more frustrating because he’s like, ‘I did everything I was supposed to do and you’re still trying me?’”
Few characters can express silent frustration better than Al’s pointed stare. As an actor, Henry has that ability to say more with a look — a mix of disgust and disbelief — than mere words could convey. “Wait ‘till the looks you see this season,” he said. “I love that about him, because I know the viewer sees what I see — I know you see the (nonsense) that’s happening.”
In addition to his work on “Atlanta” (for which he has been Emmy-nominated), Henry is known for everything from “If Beale Street Could Talk” to “Joker” to “Godzilla vs. King Kong” to the Marvel movie “Eternals,” to name just a few. This summer, he stars as an assassin opposite Brad Pitt in the action-comedy “Bullet Train,” coming out in July.
Henry is best known for his extensive list of TV and film credits, but his first big break was on Broadway in “The Book of Mormon.”
Performing on stage is where he also experienced his worst moment, which has been seared into his memory: “Let’s bring it down to Earth!” he laughed.
My worst moment …
“OK, let’s go back to the year 1999 when I was in high school. This is not just the worst moment, but it manifested into the best moment because this was the moment I knew I had to act. Like, for the rest of my life.
“This is E.E. Smith High School, home of the Golden Bulls, in Fayetteville, North Carolina. And I had been dabbling in speech and debate, show choir — I was just arts, arts, arts at this point. There was a new drama program and I got cast as one of the main ensemble in this play called ‘The Colored Museum,’ written by George C. Wolfe. (The play is a series of “exhibits” that satirize Black cultural stereotypes.)
“Just to preface this, I’ve only gone to all-Black schools all my life — from day care to elementary to junior high to high school.
“So in the play, there is a character named Walter-Lee-Beau-Willie, because this part of the play is a sendup to ‘A Raisin in the Sun’ and the character is based on Walter Lee Younger. So I’m playing this Black man who has the world on his shoulders and there’s a monologue where he’s like, ‘The world isn’t built for me.’
“Before we open, we do a performance for the students. They also decided to invite the in-school suspension students. And for people who don’t know, in-school suspension is when they say, instead of sending you home for a week, we’re going to do you one better and make you come to school — but you’re going to stay in a classroom all day, like detention.
“So I’m on stage. The spotlight’s on me. And in this particular moment in the monologue, I’m on my knees and I’m really going in. My 17-year-old self is trying to give the screams and the war cry of the Black man in this monologue. Tears and everything.
“So I’m on my knees and it’s completely quiet. And from the very back of the auditorium I heard someone scream, ‘(N-word), you suck!’
“Like, with the fervor of a thousand kings, this person screams this at the end of my monologue.
“And everyone in the audience broke into laughter. And I wanted to laugh too! There was faculty there, so I had to wait because they were escorting this kid out. I’m just on my knees, holding this moment, sweat coming from my forehead, but the show must go on. I mean, there was a whole second act we still had to do.
“And then I finished, got up (laughs) and went backstage, and everyone was mortified. But I just remember looking at my drama teacher like, ‘I could do this for the rest of my life.’ Because that was the truest, most visceral response I had gotten. And I was like, well, it ain’t a tomato! I didn’t get booed!
“For someone to really truly yell at you ‘You suck!’ (laughs) while I’m in the middle of a monologue and I didn’t break? Well, I guess I can really do this.”
The performance provoked a response!
“Yeah, I got something, right? At the end of the day, this kid felt something. He was moved emotionally — and physically, because they escorted him out — but either way, something was felt. And that always sticks with me.
“I remember my co-stars standing on stage mortified, just the looks on their teenage faces, whereas I was like: I’m locked in, you’re not going to break me! And that’s kind of what the monologue was about — not being broken. I literally had my head in my hands and I wanted to laugh so bad, but I didn’t.
“But that moment helped me keep an openness and airiness about what I do. Nothing is too precious. I don’t want anything to be too precious, because at the end of the day it’s a play — that’s why it’s called a play, because you’re playing. You get to live in the shoes of somebody for a few hours and hopefully you reach someone in the back of the audience who truly thinks you suck (laughs). And then you move on to the next performance.
“I don’t really get bothered by audience responses because it lets me know you felt something. Any response is better than no response at all. You sitting down to watch me is already one response, and that lets me know that you’ve signed up for this transaction — to watch me stand up here and pretend for an hour-and-a-half.
“But those in-school suspension kids did not sign up for that.
“I never found out who said it, but you know that suspension was extended after that.”
A lot of teenagers might have taken the comment personally.
“I never took it personally. Never. Because I think about how many times I’ve sat down and watched certain plays and wanted to scream ‘you suck’ so bad. I used to watch ‘Showtime at the Apollo,’ and I was like, if that hook ever came for me, I would be so delighted! If you can stand up at the back of the room and tell me I suck, then bless you. You’re doing God’s work, honestly.
“I’ve been on Broadway. And Broadway is expensive. So there’s a decorum on Broadway that’s different from what you’ll get being in a high school play. There’s nothing that more real than coming to see a play that’s put together with whatever little budget you’ve got and you’re a teenager portraying things you probably haven’t experienced yet — like, I didn’t know what I was saying, giving this monologue of a middle-aged Black man. But there is nothing more fulfilling. The stakes aren’t as high, and neither is the production value (laughs).
“Being an actor, you have no idea what a viewer’s life is when they’re watching you at any given moment. You don’t know where you’re meeting people in their lives.
“However, what I would like to think is that on that day, I gave them something to have a response to (laughs). I also think it was such a youthful thing to do, to shout that. So I was like, aw man, this is never going to happen again. Here we are, doing a play written by a prominent Black playwright, talking about issues and things that are going on that are relevant to Black people in this country, and at the same time, yeah, sometimes you want to scream ‘you suck’ at that (laughs).
“And that’s when I knew I wanted to be an actor. I never felt more alive.
“I just remember going backstage, smiling so hard and laughing so hard, while changing my costume. Like: Welp, on to Act 2!”
The takeaway …
“To perform for that guy.
“When you think about these looks Alfred gives people on ‘Atlanta’? I’m doing it for that guy, who’s had enough and wants to stand up and say you suck!
“I don’t know who he is, I may never know who he is. I may never see him, I don’t know where he is now — watch, I’ll find out he’s one of the producers of ‘Atlanta’ (laughs). I guarantee you, he runs something in Hollywood.
“But at the end of the day, if my performance can get somebody feeling like they just can’t take it anymore and they have to stand up — and look, it doesn’t always have to be ‘you suck,’ if you want to say ‘you’re great!’ (laughs) — you know what I mean? We can have a variation of how you feel about me (laughs).
“I’m glad that I can look back on it fondly because lord knows, I still laugh about it to this day because nothing afterward has been that bad. No review, no critic.
“But if I make you viscerally feel something, then I’m doing my job.”
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(Nina Metz is a Tribune critic.)
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