Exclusive: Clarence Gilyard Jr. on King Rickman: ''He was a rock star''
As a film major at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas-a super senior to be exact-I am currently enrolled in a Fall 2016 FIS 432 - Industry vs. Artistry in Film & Television course, instructed by Kynan Dias, a part-time instructor. Though the class, unlike the other film classes available through the university’s film programme, is not of excellent teaching quality by any means as it is largely based around arses glued to seats for three tedious hours every Monday morning, weaving through panel discussions by invited industry guests, a number of them that have thus far been, in all biting honesty, uninteresting privileged men-yet, for the first time in the semester, this Monday, an academic tenured professor of actual worth was invited to speak about his career experiences on our behalf.
You guessed it, the one and only Prof. Clarence Gilyard Jr. He has been a professor at UNLV since 2003 and though retired from professional acting, he is still highly regarded as both an actor of his craft and a man willing to pass on his knowledge to budding youth, widely respected amongst staff and students alike. He is, after all, an Associate Professor in the College of Fine Arts - Department of Theatre and not only that, he holds exclusive guilds, not excluding a Director’s Guild of America and an Actor’s Equity Association-the only staff member so far to do so.
Unfortunately, since he mostly teaches classes chiefly beneficial for theatre majors, I have not, in my four years and a semester-in-progress have had the pleasure (yet; there’s still one more semester to go) of being instructed by him, though I have heard nothing but wonderful things about his approach. Although he does, whenever there’s a slot open, teach Advanced Directing, except lamentably the course is also divided amongst another not-so-great professor I will not name. The odds of getting either are 50/50. That being said, it was a delight to finally receive a taste of what this brilliant man’s lessons are like.
Amongst the many words of wisdom he discussed (which, by oath, I am bound by some confidentiality to not indulge in exact, personal details) were his humble beginnings as an insecure twenty-something terrified of the prospects and vast possibilities in the industry; his foray into children’s theatre of the Chicago theatre scene, notably 1977’s Bleacher Bums; and his creative yet nerve-wracking audition process for 1986’s Top Gun which, in the end, secured him a casting spot in John McTiernan’s Die Hard, uniquely the only character of colour amongst Hans Gruber’s Boy’s Club. Weirdly, he was only notified through stacked-up phone messages and brought onto the set at midnight four days after shooting had already commenced in a part of the 20th Century Fox Plaza, used as the setting of the Nakatomi building, still undergoing construction. Both McTiernan and one of the PAs lobbied for his casting, which casting director Jackie Burch, for reasons not discussed, was against. Perhaps, because he is a man of colour; certainly, there could have been no other idiotic reason for her refusal. Props to McTiernan-despite him being far from a saint with his rather messy, still-fresh-in-the-mind history of federal charges-for not listening to her. Loosely paraphrased in Prof. Gilyard’s words, both projects changed his life overnight. Quite literally, they did.
Naturally, on the subject of Die Hard and in reference to an earlier comment made about him viewing a PBS special on the late and wonderful Robin Williams the night before where he lamented that it’s a tragedy when ‘’such talented people [in the industry] pass’’ due to a variety of circumstances, I had the opportunity to ask him, in the Q&A portion, that since Alan Rickman’s untimely passing in January, what were his experiences working with him. ‘’No good. No good,’’ he said in response to his passing, shaking his head.
After a long beat, he defiantly stated, ‘’Brilliant. Brilliant. Generous. He had the [theatre] training of a prolific... He was a rock star. He was not just an actor, but a rock star.’’
He went on to elaborate how much he cherished his working relationships, the esteem for and of others and how, in each and every person he encounters, not excluding his prized students, he searches for authenticity verses humility, internally asking himself, ‘’Are you authentic? Are you humble?’’ In doing so, he hopes that he can teach others as much as he can learn from them, counting himself ‘’very lucky to have worked with the guy. I got to be his right-hand man!’’
We can learn from the esteem of others, he explained, saying that he learned from Rickman’s esteem for and by others as much as anyone. ‘’This is a generous business. […] There is no more a generous business than the film business.’’ By that, he means the competitiveness of the brutal industry as it is can be just as benevolent through the connections one can make and nurture for a lifetime.
‘’It was a surprise to me that he had cancer and died,’’ he went on. ‘’He was the kind of guy I could go to London and have dinner with. Alan Rickman was a rock star!’’
© 2016 J.D. Night Ghobhadi
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