Terrence Howard

When Terrence Howard heard he'd been compared to a young Brando for his ambitious Memphis pimp-turned-rapper in "Hustle & Flow," he was understandably excited. But he also cherishes a more intimate plaudit he got 10 years ago for playing the flashy, violent Cowboy in one of his first movies, "Dead Presidents." "Laurence Fishburne came up to me," Howard recalled over lunch recently at the Regent Beverly Wilshire, setting his fork down to relish the retelling. "He didn't say hello, goodbye.

At the recent "Iron Man 2" premiere at Hollywood's El Capitan Theatre, the film's stars seemed to be channeling their characters for the over-the-top event, which featured cheerleaders in provocative red and gold uniforms, fireworks and throngs of fans. Robert Downey Jr., who plays billionaire hero Tony Stark, was all ironic charm and sparkling hubris, for instance, while Mickey Rourke, who portrays the sullen villain Ivan Vanko, slowly made his way up the red carpet in sunglasses and a leather-lapel suit that gave him an air of reptilian menace.

Agrin creeps across Terrence Howard's face as he intently cuts through the bandages on his right hand -- a souvenir of Brick, the sodden ex-jock he's playing in the Broadway revival of Tennessee Williams' "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof." "I figured the media would be looking to hang me; people are always looking for somebody to fail," he says in his dressing room at the Broadhurst Theatre.

Hell hath no fury like an actor scorned. Anyone who's talked to Terrence Howard recently knows that the actor is still fighting mad six months after being replaced in the upcoming "Iron Man 2." "It was a very, very bad choice," fumed Howard, who played Iron Man's Army buddy Lt. Col. James "Rhodey" Rhodes in the first film, to Parade magazine about Marvel Studios' decision to reboot the part with Don Cheadle in the role. "You don't make $800 million and then try and shake everyone down.

In the spring of 2000, journalist Scott Anderson and four fellow reporters embarked on a brandy-inspired search for one of the most wanted war criminals in Bosnia, a surreal expedition in which they were mistaken for a CIA hit team, garnered the attention of the actual CIA and prompted the launch of a real black-ops mission.

TERRENCE HOWARD "Hustle & Flow" * TERRENCE HOWARD sees his performance as DJay, the pimp and wannabe hip-hop star in "Hustle & Flow," as a collaborative effort -- something that would have been impossible without the continuous support of his colleagues. "At the beginning of the table reading," he says, "we made a pact that we could do whatever it is we could do." The cast had been in rehearsals, he says, but "it was still disjointed because we were still frightened.

The role of Jim Ellis, the steely-eyed swim coach who turns five scraggly teens from inner-city Philadelphia into a championship swim team, is the kind most actors would tear into like a well-cooked steak. But Terrence Howard comes at the part like he's stalking live prey. Handed a mess of rousing speeches and believe-in-yourself bromides, Howard plays to the front row instead of the cheap seats, rarely raising his voice, as if he expects his young charges to lean in and listen to every word.

At the recent "Iron Man 2" premiere at Hollywood's El Capitan Theatre, the film's stars seemed to be channeling their characters for the over-the-top event, which featured cheerleaders in provocative red and gold uniforms, fireworks and throngs of fans. Robert Downey Jr., who plays billionaire hero Tony Stark, was all ironic charm and sparkling hubris, for instance, while Mickey Rourke, who portrays the sullen villain Ivan Vanko, slowly made his way up the red carpet in sunglasses and a leather-lapel suit that gave him an air of reptilian menace.

It was hustle and flow, all right. Terrence Howard, the Oscar-nominated actor best known for his role as Djay, the rapping pimp protagonist of Craig Brewer's acclaimed 2005 film, was doing everything but serving smoked Gouda to the 40 or so people gathered Thursday night for the listening party for "Shine Through It," his Sony/BMG Records debut.

"Hustle & Flow" abounds with all the ingredients of a terrific popular entertainment. Writer-director Craig Brewer first of all cares deeply for his characters, with the result that each one emerges as a distinctive, involving individual, and this care extends from the film's casting down to such details as the gold teeth sported by one of its stars.

It's called "Fighting," and its unpolished, messy fracases are among the film's highlights. But there's much more to it than that: more than the easily sold idea of Channing Tatum as Shawn, a down-on-his-luck drifter, drawn by two-bit hustler Harvey (Terrence Howard) into New York's underground fighting scene; more than Shawn's romance with struggling single mother Zulay (Zulay Henao). The word that best expresses the film is "vivid."

It was hustle and flow, all right. Terrence Howard, the Oscar-nominated actor best known for his role as Djay, the rapping pimp protagonist of Craig Brewer's acclaimed 2005 film, was doing everything but serving smoked Gouda to the 40 or so people gathered Thursday night for the listening party for "Shine Through It," his Sony/BMG Records debut.

Agrin creeps across Terrence Howard's face as he intently cuts through the bandages on his right hand -- a souvenir of Brick, the sodden ex-jock he's playing in the Broadway revival of Tennessee Williams' "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof." "I figured the media would be looking to hang me; people are always looking for somebody to fail," he says in his dressing room at the Broadhurst Theatre.

In the spring of 2000, journalist Scott Anderson and four fellow reporters embarked on a brandy-inspired search for one of the most wanted war criminals in Bosnia, a surreal expedition in which they were mistaken for a CIA hit team, garnered the attention of the actual CIA and prompted the launch of a real black-ops mission.

The role of Jim Ellis, the steely-eyed swim coach who turns five scraggly teens from inner-city Philadelphia into a championship swim team, is the kind most actors would tear into like a well-cooked steak. But Terrence Howard comes at the part like he's stalking live prey. Handed a mess of rousing speeches and believe-in-yourself bromides, Howard plays to the front row instead of the cheap seats, rarely raising his voice, as if he expects his young charges to lean in and listen to every word.

TERRENCE HOWARD "Hustle & Flow" * TERRENCE HOWARD sees his performance as DJay, the pimp and wannabe hip-hop star in "Hustle & Flow," as a collaborative effort -- something that would have been impossible without the continuous support of his colleagues. "At the beginning of the table reading," he says, "we made a pact that we could do whatever it is we could do." The cast had been in rehearsals, he says, but "it was still disjointed because we were still frightened.

It's called "Fighting," and its unpolished, messy fracases are among the film's highlights. But there's much more to it than that: more than the easily sold idea of Channing Tatum as Shawn, a down-on-his-luck drifter, drawn by two-bit hustler Harvey (Terrence Howard) into New York's underground fighting scene; more than Shawn's romance with struggling single mother Zulay (Zulay Henao). The word that best expresses the film is "vivid."

Hell hath no fury like an actor scorned. Anyone who's talked to Terrence Howard recently knows that the actor is still fighting mad six months after being replaced in the upcoming "Iron Man 2." "It was a very, very bad choice," fumed Howard, who played Iron Man's Army buddy Lt. Col. James "Rhodey" Rhodes in the first film, to Parade magazine about Marvel Studios' decision to reboot the part with Don Cheadle in the role. "You don't make $800 million and then try and shake everyone down.

"Hustle & Flow" abounds with all the ingredients of a terrific popular entertainment. Writer-director Craig Brewer first of all cares deeply for his characters, with the result that each one emerges as a distinctive, involving individual, and this care extends from the film's casting down to such details as the gold teeth sported by one of its stars.

When Terrence Howard heard he'd been compared to a young Brando for his ambitious Memphis pimp-turned-rapper in "Hustle & Flow," he was understandably excited. But he also cherishes a more intimate plaudit he got 10 years ago for playing the flashy, violent Cowboy in one of his first movies, "Dead Presidents." "Laurence Fishburne came up to me," Howard recalled over lunch recently at the Regent Beverly Wilshire, setting his fork down to relish the retelling. "He didn't say hello, goodbye.