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Jason's Lyric, and check out Jason's Lyric on Wikipedia, Youtube, Google News, Google Books, and Twitter on Digplanet. Jason's Lyric is a 1994 erotic romantic drama film, written by Bobby Smith, Jr, and directed by Doug McHenry, who co-produced the film with George Jackson and Marilla Lane Ross.[1] Both Jackson and McHenry have been notably successful as producers with films that include New Jack City.
Jason's Lyric features an ensemble cast of African American actors that includes Allen Payne, Jada Pinkett Smith, Bokeem Woodbine, Treach, Eddie Griffin, Lahmard Tate, Lisa Nicole Carson, and Forest Whitaker. Jason (Allen Payne) is a responsible young man who has a job in a television repair shop and lives at home with his hard-working mom (Suzzanne Douglas).
When Lyric (Jada Pinkett Smith) walks into the shop to buy a television, Jason meets his perfect match. Things get worse when Joshua hears his mother tell Jason to leave town with Lyric because he doesn't owe her or Joshua anything. 1000+ ideas about rv interior remodeling on pinterest, Discover thousands of images about rv interior remodeling on pinterest, a visual bookmarking tool that helps you discover and save creative ideas. My agent says he’s already messengered the script to the set, then adds, “It’s mesmerizing.” No surprise there. We both know that I’ve always been happy to meet with anybody to get a role, and if it means a chance to work with the great Scorsese, I’d sleep with whomever His Geniusness would like me to.
The sudden nausea I’m feeling stems from the unfortunate timing of their requests for a sit-down. My part in The Usual Suspects demands that I look like a sociopathic thief, killer, and weapons expert—albeit a lovable and quick-witted sociopath, to be fair. The next morning, as I’m getting ready to head over, I decide to bring along an 8x10 headshot to demonstrate that I clean up nice. I arrive at the Bel-Air, where for a mere $27 you too can have your car parked by a handsome young yet-to-be-cast movie star of tomorrow. Ellen leaves us to check on the great Bobby D., which affords Rickles a moment to fawn quietly over my acting in Barry Levinson’s Avalon and Rob Reiner’s A Few Good Men. He thanks me, then describes how excited he is to rip into De Niro, sending me into another laughing fit.
She might as well have said, “Kevin, what would you like as your last meal?” because it felt like I was heading to the chair.
Suddenly it hits me: All I have to do to survive this meeting is to say as little as possible.
I look at the headshot in my hand and wonder if I should abandon this now-certainly-stupid sight-gag prop, but before I can decide whether to use it the door opens, and standing in the threshold I don’t see the Robert De Niro you and I know.
I’m instantly freaked out, and before you can say “What were you thinking, Kevin?” I throw the 8x10 of my stupid face into the bushes in front of De Niro’s $5,000-a-night Bel-Air bungalow.
He looks around the dark room with that squished up, squinted De Niro half smile–half frown face of his. We go through that painful routine three more times, and in between each exchange there’s a full minute of silence, during which time he continues to look around the dark room.
Several interminable minutes of awkward silence later—-interspersed with him asking if I wanted anything—he reiterates, “I just wanted to meet you, and say hello, and, and, and, meet you.
Then it dawns on me that my own lack of sparkling conversation might be contributing to the discomfort, so I try to come up with something clever to say .

Eventually he asks me if I want anything, and I’m this close to saying, “You know what, Bob?—and I understand that you like to be called Bob, but I’ll never call you Bob because I’ll never be comfortable with you—I’d like a salad from room service, but I’m not going to ask you to order me one because it would mean another forty-five minutes of this torturous, hellish meeting.” But wisely I keep my lip zipped.
I give him my most sincere smile and say, “Don, I’ve never had so much fun talking to somebody in my entire life. I’m dizzy, enchanted, and frightened, but mostly I feel like I should keep my mouth shut because if I don’t say the wrong thing then the offer is still good, and I’ll do Casino. One hour and thirty-seven minutes later, an assistant director who needed him on set negotiates my release. Reprinted with permission, from ”How I Slept My Way to the Middle” by Kevin Pollak, published by Lyons Press, an imprint of Globe Pequot Press (2012). Playrific makes childrens apps with exciting, intelligent, educational & fun content from around the world. Set in Houston's Fifth Ward, the film is a story about young African American adults learning how to deal with love and maturity. She has dreams of escape, and inspires Jason to do romantic things like borrow a city bus to take her on a date. Most significantly, he causes bedlam by independently terrorizing and beating the customers of the bank, nor promptly gets in the getaway car when the heist is over. His nightmares occur because Jason took a gun from Joshua and accidentally shot Mad Dog in the chest, which is why he feels obligated to his family. Joshua believes that Jason is leaving not only because of Lyric, but because Alonzo may take revenge.
In “How I Slept My Way to the Middle,” the actor, writer and stand-up comedian recounts his experience amidst the movers, shakers and titans of show business. I’m sitting in my trailer, waiting to continue work on a little heist film called The Usual Suspects. The part that I was being “offered” was of Phillip Green, the mob’s extremely well-tailored, overly manicured, uber–clean-cut front man, who on paper would be in charge of a new $60 million (1970s millions) casino in Vegas called The Tangiers. As George runs down the details of the aforementioned ritual meetings, I stare at the mirror before me and, man, I am not Phillip Green material.
The version of me in the mirror during this magical Scorsese-offer life moment looks disheveled and more than a little nuts. I’ve been cleared from work, and the following day I’m scheduled to meet with Academy Award–winner Robert De Niro in a lavish bungalow at the absurdly luxurious Bel-Air Hotel. My plan is to knock on De Niro’s door, and then when he opens up, I’ll hold the photo over my face so he can see the real me and understand that, despite my current state of shagginess, I can look the part. Ellen Lewis, Scorsese’s wonderfully sweet casting director, takes me inside to the expansive lobby, where I’m seated with another Casino-“offered” actor waiting to meet De Niro. I thank him and insist, sincerely, that when I saw his dramatic turn in Kelly’s Heroes it was the first moment I believed it possible that one day I could get a shot at such a lofty opportunity. Hell, I don’t see Travis Bickle or Jake LaMotta or Al Capone or Max Cady or even a young Vito Corleone. We’re talking the last-six-months-of-his-life Howard Hughes: long gray hair, straggly gray beard, well-worn black bathrobe, mismatched pajamas.
Even though it’s mid-morning, the curtains are drawn—and these are heavy curtains, mind you, hotel-grade blackout curtains.

We meet in his trailer on the set of something he’s shooting, and it’s the exact opposite of the De Niro sit. I’m older but somehow not wiser, my goatee is longer, my mind is blown—and I have the part. Plus, I think, the gag might even make him smile, which won’t be the worst way to begin this all-important, wildly-nerve-wracking-for-one-of-us ritualistic sit. This particular actor proceeds to cut into my unsightly facial hair with the precision of a Jedi knight. I mean, for me to hold up a professional portrait, then point to my shaggy face and say, “I don’t normally look this way” in front of deathbed Howard Hughes is the very definition of absurd.
If it wasn’t for the lone reading lamp illuminating a huge, aged-leather easy chair, I wouldn’t have been able to see a thing.
The height comes when Jason and Lyric take a romantic ride in a rowboat, then make love in the woods.
Scorsese is at the helm because there’s no way any reader will ever be able to see the divine magic he sees.
But this isn’t just any actor—it’s Don Rickles, whose razor-sharp barbs send me into much-needed hysterics. Jason realizes how badly he's been beaten, so he confronts the leader of the gang, Alonzo (Treach), who is Lyric's brother, and the two have a vicious fight in a public restroom. If a screen direction reads, “Exterior: A chicken crosses the road,” you and I see a chicken crossing a road in anticipation of a joke or a fast-moving truck. This won’t jibe with the look for my theoretical Casino character: slick, clean-shaven, and not at all nuts. I remember some advice that my Aunt Shirley Zucker bestowed upon me when I was a preteen: “Sometimes you shouldn’t try so hard to entertain. Not speaking was proving to be a problem, though, as De Niro wasn’t saying a whole hell of a lot either, and when you have a conversation, somebody should talk. Scorsese sees a breathtaking cinematic journey of the Mafia’s bloody takeover of every KFC franchise from Bayonne to Schenectady. I remember at one point actually thinking, Thank God he doesn’t need me to contribute because I can’t possibly keep up with whatever the hell he’s talking about. If he thought me odd because of my respectful silence and this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity evaporated due to my zipped lip, then so be it. The only similarity between the two meetings—one of which lasts seven minutes, and one of which lasts approximately forever—is that in each one I say about twelve words. Every third sentence had a movie reference in it that I didn’t get: “That scene in act one is going to be just like that scene in The Dark Horse. Joshua is fed up with his life and decides to end it all by killing himself (off screen), in earshot of everyone outside.
The film ends with Jason and Lyric riding a bus, leaving town; however, some versions do not show this part.

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