Fresh Air - Remembering MC5 Guitarist Wayne Kramer / Carl Weathers

Episode Date: February 9, 2024

We remember Wayne Kramer, the guitarist of the late '60s proto-punk band MC5. The revolutionary band's idols were the Black Panther party, Malcolm X and John Coltrane. Kramer died last week at 75. He spoke with Terry Gross in 2002.Also we listen back to our 1988 interview with actor Carl Weathers, who played Apollo Creed in the Rocky movies. He died at 76. Justin Chang reviews the French film The Taste of Things.Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

This is Fresh Air. I'm David Bianculli. That's the Detroit-based band the MC5, one of the most radical of all the rock bands from the late 60s. The band's founder, singer, and one of its guitarists, Wayne Kramer, died last week at the age of 75. The group MC5, which stood for Motor City 5, was loud and often dissonant. Some lyrics had expletives you couldn't play on the radio, and the band's politics were far to the left. In their early days, they were managed by John Sinclair, head of the White Panther Party,

who used to preach revolution at the MC5 concerts. They played at many demonstrations and were the only band to play at the protest outside the infamous Chicago Democratic Convention in 1968. The MC5 broke up in 1972 and now is considered a forerunner of punk rock. Wayne Kramer struggled with drinking and drugs and was arrested on drug charges and sent to prison for two years. We're going to listen to Terry's 2002 interview with Wayne Kramer at the time he had released a solo album called Adult World. Let's go back to the beginning, more or less, of your story. You grew up in Detroit. Did your father work in the auto industry? Yeah, well, in a satellite sense. He was an electrician and later was in the building trades. And then I had a stepfather later on who also worked in the—he actually worked in an oil refinery there in Detroit. Did you figure that when you grew up, your job would somehow be connected to the auto industry?

Well, that was my fear. You know, that's the birthright if you're born in the industrial Midwest, you know, that you're going to end up a shop rat. How was the MC5 first created? And let's place it, it was what, 1968, 67? Well, that's when we kind of broke out of a regional popularity onto the national consciousness. But we really started about 64, 65, in a neighborhood kind of way. You know, I looked around for guys in the neighborhood that wanted to be in a band and collected a bunch of ne'er-do-wells just like me. I mean, this is the boom time after World War II. Everybody has good jobs, and you can buy an electric guitar on credit from Sears.

And they were everywhere. I mean, everybody had an electric guitar. Everybody was in a band. I mean, it was really a popular activity. But, you know, we kind of coagulated as the MC5 at a point, me, Rob Tyner, Fred Smith, Michael Davis, and Dennis Thompson.

And really, you know, we really worked hard on what we were trying to do. We really worked hard on trying to be the best band we could possibly be, you know, be better than everybody else. Because for us, it was, we looked at it as a way out of the factory, as a way, as an alternative to the lifestyle that we were guaranteed to have to fulfill. It just didn't, it just wasn't all that appealing, you know. Well, the MC5 became, you know, a self-styled revolutionary group. What politicized you?

What got you thinking more about revolution than Chuck Berry? Well, Chuck Berry was revolutionary. But, you know, it was the day we were very much a part of the time we lived in. And this was a time in the 60s. And I know it's hard for people to have a feel for it today. But the country was fractured down the middle. And the war in Vietnam had created such a division in the generations between the older World War II generation and our generation that we really thought the whole thing could just blow up at any time.

And we just were frustrated with the slow pace of change. We were anxious about the future, and we felt like we had to take action. And the action we took was in endorsing our idols, which were the Black Panther Party and Malcolm X, and our spiritual leaders, which we viewed as John Coltrane and Gandhi and Martin Luther King and Archie Shep. And we tried to bring all these ideas together in a message that our band could represent the idea that you didn't have to go along with the program, that there was a better way that we could do things. The band hooked up with John Sinclair, who was the head of the White Panther Party. What was the philosophy of the party? Well, Bobby Seale and Huey Newton put out the call for there to be a group in the white community, in the hippie community, to take up parallel work with the Black Panther Party.

And we were ready. I mean, we just said, yeah, that's us. You know, and it was romantic and it was dangerous. But I don't want you to think that, you know, that we were sitting in a warehouse on the west side of Detroit desperately cleaning our shotguns waiting for the revolution. I mean, we sat around a table and smoked tons of marijuana and laughed our asses off at what was going on. And this all just seemed to make perfect sense to

us, you know. Let me read part of the 10-point program of the White Panther Party. We want justice. We want a free world economy. We want a clean planet. We want a free educational system. We want to free all structures from corporate rule. We want free access to all information, media, and technology. We want the freedom of all people who are being held against their will in the conscripted armies of the oppressor throughout the world. We want the freedom of all political prisoners of war. We want a free planet. We want free land, free food, free shelter, free clothing, free music, free culture, free media, free technology, free education, free healthcare, free bodies, free people, free time and space, everything free. Bring back memories?

Love it. Boy, that sounds great. Did you charge for concerts or were they always free? We charged as much as we could. Unfortunately, many times they were free. We charged as much as we could. Unfortunately, many times they were free. So you got a record company contract. We did indeed. And then you went around recording things like

Kick Out the Jams' Mother Expletive Deleted, which couldn't very well be played on the radio and I'm sure the record company wasn't really thrilled that the lyrics to your song had an expletive, like the king of expletives on it. So what were you thinking?

Or the queen of expletives. What were you thinking when you got this good album contract, this good record deal, and then recorded a song on it that couldn't possibly be played and that you had to know would be considered a real liability to the record company. Well, you know, the song had this introduction, you know, where we came out and we screamed at the top of our lungs, kick out the jams, MF. But, you know, we weren't complete idiots about it. You know, we knew that that would

never be played on the radio. So we recorded an alternative intro, which was Kick Out the Jam's Brothers and Sisters. And, you know, it might be an interesting footnote to look at it, because what happened was we had agreed, we knew that, I mean, Kick Out the Jams, MF, was not going to be a hit single. So we did this other version and what we told Elektra Records was that we knew when the album version, the real version, hit the stands that the stuff was going to hit the fan. But let the single get as firmly established in the charts as it can. Wait till it starts coming back down the charts before you put the album out, because then they won't be able to stop us, you know, because then we'll be a bona fide

hit band. And then the controversy will work in our favor because we're telling the truth here. And the record company, in all their short-sighted lack of wisdom, when the singles started going up the charts, they rushed the album out. And when they rushed the album out, of course, the stuff did hit the fan and people started to be arrested for selling the album.

Kids in record stores or clerks were being arrested for selling the subscene record. And this is hard to understand in today's climate of hip-hop and hardcore rap, where MF is every third expression. But in those days, this was a major crisis, and of course the music industry wanted nothing to do with it and in fact banned the MC5 from then on, really. That was really the straw that broke the camel's back because nobody wanted anything to do with the MC5. We were way too much trouble, way too much bother.

Well, why don't we hear Kick Out the Jams? We'll hear the original version with the expletive in it. We will conveniently bleep the expletive, but still you'll get the point of the recording. So here it is, the MC5. Kick out the jams, mother******! I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it.

I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it.

I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it.

I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it.

I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it.

I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it. I know how you want it.

I know how you want it. how you want it. how you want it. how you want it. how you want it. Kick out the jams, expletive deleted. My guest is one of the founders of the MC5, Wayne Kramer. On one of the MC5 recordings, Ramblin' Rose, there's a live introduction by Jesse Crawford,

who is the White Panther Minister of Information. Was this a kind of standard thing in concerts, that one of the White Panthers would come up and give their rap before a performance? Well, you know, we were all ministers of something or another. You know, ministers of culture in the streets, ministers of defense, ministers of, you know, I mean, I hope it comes across that this stuff was done with a lot of humor.

You know, we really weren't, you know, it didn't get heavy till much later. It was really done with a lot of fun in the early days. But that was J.C. Crawford's role. He was our emcee, you know, our master of ceremonies. And see, we tried to build this show based on our heroes, and one of them was James Brown. And James Brown has an MC that would come out and say, you know, and now the hardest working man in show business here to sing such hits as Try Me. Ta-da! I'll go crazy. Ta-da! So we just, we took that spirit of what he was doing. And JC came up with his own

text on it. Because we want to make this a show we want to make, we want to entertain people and take them someplace they hadn't been before. Because the world, as far as we could see, I mean, there were some awful bands back in those days, you know, the California bands were terrible, you know, they could barely play. And they would come into Detroit, you know, with these huge reputations. And we'd say, God, you guys, man, kick out the jams or get off the stage, you know, because we were really, we were focused on this idea of high energy. We wanted to have energy in our performance, because that was the thing that felt the best. And when I listened to music, if I listened to black gospel music, there's a visceral commitment. There's a visceral energy to it. There's a spirit to it

that reaches, that touches me. The music of James Brown, the music of Chuck Berry and the free jazz music. I even heard it in the music of The Who or some early Rolling Stones tracks. It had that energy. So that was the thing we focused on. So having the emcee was part of that to create this entire spectacular event. So instead of having the James Brown emcee talking about his hits, you had J.C. Crawford saying, if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. Exactly.

Let's hear the introduction to Ramblin' Rose and hear some of Ramblin' Rose as well. You're a singing lead on this. That's me, yeah. Brothers and sisters, the time has come for each and every one of you to decide whether you are going to be the problem or whether you are going to be the solution. That's right. You must choose, brothers. You must choose.

It takes five seconds. Five seconds of decision. Five seconds to realize your purpose here on the planet. It takes five seconds to realize that it's time to move. It's time to get down with it. Brothers, it's time to testify. And I want to know, are you ready to testify? Are you ready?

I give you a testimonial. The MC5! Love is like a rambler roll The more you feel it, the more it grows Ramblin' rose, ramblin' rose It's the MC5's recording, Ramblin' Rose, the lead vocal in that sung by my guest, Wayne Kramer. What kind of crowd reactions would you get?

What were the best reactions? What were the best reactions? What were the most extreme reactions? Well, probably the best reactions we got were in the Detroit area, you know, because we played there regularly for years and we had a regular job at the Grandy Ballroom. And we created that audience in Detroit and groomed them to be the best rock and roll audience in the world. And, you know, we were able to transmit that to Chicago, to Cleveland, to New York, and ultimately we carried our message across the sea to England. But it never really translated on the West Coast.

The hippies just didn't connect with the MC5. We just had too much macho energy. Our clothes were too shiny. Our amps were too big. And we did too much leaping, spinning, screaming, hollering feedback. And, you know, California was all about, you know, put the, wear some flowers in your hair. And we just, we were just out of sync with the West Coast. Because of the like revolutionary language that you used with the band and your association with John Sinclair,

I think you were watched pretty closely. And I'm wondering if you ever got your Freedom of Information Act files and if you could see for sure what the FBI was doing regarding your band. Today, I know a great deal about what the federal government's attitude about the MC5 was, and it's very scary. The White House viewed the MC5 as a threat. We have, through the Freedom of Information, documents that go all the way to the top that the Contel Pro program targeted the MC5 and the White Panther Party. Our phones were tapped. We were followed. We were systematically harassed, arrested, jailed in an effort by the federal government, the state government, and the city of Detroit, the Detroit Police Department in particular, to squash the MC5. Because the attitude was, you know, when is somebody going to do something about this band? You know, that we can't allow this rock band to

say the things they're saying, to do the things they're doing and influence our children this way. And it wasn't a joke, you know, and it got more serious as time went on in various court actions against us. You know, I read an interview with G. Gordon Liddy in Playboy magazine, and he said he read our propaganda and where we said we were willing to use any means necessary to destroy the system and start over. And he said, I took them seriously. And so we used everything we had against them. And so what did you think of what he said? How seriously should he have taken you?

How should he have interpreted what you were saying? I think he took it correctly. If we could have changed the world, we would have, you know. How did it affect the band when John Sinclair, who worked as your manager and mentor in a way, when he was arrested for carrying two marijuana joints and sentenced to 10 years, what did that do to your band? Kind of broke our back, really.

Because John was the interface between the band and the outside world. And even though, you know, he was as crazy as we were, he at least had the wherewithal to be able to talk, you know, and explain what we were trying to do in a manner that people could understand. People in the music business mostly, you know. And we never really found, you know, a champion after that. You know, we tried to work with a couple other managers, but it just never worked. You know, it was square pegs in a round hole. The MC5 really were unmanageable. MC5 founder, singer, and guitarist Wayne Kramer, speaking to Terry Gross in 2002.

He died last week at age 75. We'll hear more of their conversation after a break. We'll also remember actor Carl Weathers, who played Apollo Creed in the early Rocky movies, and who died last week at age 76. And film critic Justin Chang reviews The Taste of Things, a French film that just won the directing prize at the Cannes Film Festival. I'm David Bianculli, and this is Fresh Air. I told you in school about freedom.

When you're trying to be free, they never let you They said it's easy, nothing to it And now the army's out to get you 69 American terminal stasis The air's so thick it's like I'm drowning in molasses I'm sick and tired of paying these dues And I'm finally getting hip to the American blues I'm gonna say the pledge of allegiance Before they beat me bloody down at the station They haven't got a word out of me since

I got a billion years probation 69 American terminal stasis The air's so thick it's like drowning in molasses I'm sick and tired of paying these dues. And I'm sick to my guts of the American ruse. Only stars. Oh no. Today, we're remembering Wayne Kramer, who died last week at age 75.

He was the founder of Detroit's infamous 60s rock group, the MC5, and also one of its singers and guitarists. The band was loud, aggressive, and politically active and liberal. Their early manager was White Panther leader John Sinclair, and the MC5 was the only band to play outside at demonstrations in Chicago at the Democratic National Convention in 1968. Terry Gross spoke with Wayne Kramer in 2002 when he had just released a solo album titled Adult World. You know, we've been talking about like the revolutionary slant of the music of the MC5, but some of it was just really fun. And I thought I'd play one of the tracks, and this is High School.

And it sounds almost like a rough draft for the Ramones, for their rock and roll high school. I mean, do you think they listened to your high school before doing their own rock and roll high school? I know they did. Oh, yeah? I mean, yeah, they're friends of mine. Oh, okay.

I was friends with Joey and Dee Dee, and I know Johnny a bit. But yeah, listen, their manager was our publicist. So the connections are there. John Landau, who produced back in the USA, went on to manage and produce Bruce Springsteen. I can see how this is idea diffusion. Right. And Back in the USA is the album that this track is from. Let's hear it. This is the MC5 High School. Oh. Action! The kids want a little fun. The kids all have to get their kicks.

Before the evening's done. Cause they're going to high school. Run, run, run. High school. Just move on. High school. Hey, hey, hey. You better let them have their way They only want to shake it up, baby

Dance to the rock and dance They only want a little excitement They like to get a little out of hand Cause they're going to high school High school High school It's the MC5, and by the way, the MC5 recordings are featured on a recent anthology on Rhino Records called The Best of the MC5. My guest Wayne Kramer is one of the founders of the group. It was very difficult for you when the MC5 broke up, and you went through a kind of long period of addiction to heroin, alcohol.

You spent some time in prison in, I think it was the mid-70s? Mm-hmm. That's when I first started listening to All Things Considered. you spent some time in prison in, I think it was the mid-70s? Mm-hmm. That's when I first started listening to All Things Considered. Oh, that's what they all say in prison. A lot of people in prison listen to All Things Considered. Did they really? Absolutely.

That's really funny. Good. So you were in prison for, what, selling drugs to an undercover agent. What was their cover? That they were New York mafioso drug couriers. And they looked the part and they talked the part and they walked the part. See, when the band broke up, I really lost my connection to any spiritual principles, any principles at all. And I was really kind of adrift there in a real negative time and a place. And doing wrong is a way of getting attention too, you know. And there's a whole hierarchy in the criminal underworld of, you know, being a ghetto star,

you know, being a hustler, being an earner, being, you know, somebody that gets paid, someone that gets over. This is the kind of terminology that, you know, that was in my speech a lot. This is the way I thought a lot. And that all culminated with this huge narcotics conspiracy that I was involved in. When you were in prison, in a federal prison in Lexington, Kentucky, you met Red Rodney, the trumpeter who early in his career played with Charlie Parker's band. And you used to play together in prison. What kind of music would you play? Yeah, probably the high point of being locked up for two and musicians and, you know, drug addict jazz musicians and alcoholic writers. And I wanted to be like those people, you know.

And finally, you know, being in prison with Red Rodney, you know, he really became like my musical father and actually taught me a course in a Berklee music correspondence course in music theory. And we played bebop. It was, you know, I went in a pretty adventurous rock guitar player and came out, I'd like to think, a competent musician, you know. He was a wonderful man and I love him dearly. You talked about how you really admired artists who were alcoholics or drug addicts. What did you find interesting or admirable about that? Well, it just seems so illicit and so romantic. But none of those things made me an alcoholic or a drug addict. It doesn't work that way. What makes me a drug addict and an

alcoholic is I like the effect that those substances have on me when I put them in my body. How hard is it for you now to stay straight? Well, hard. You know, it's not that it's hard because I know today that I don't have a drug and an alcohol problem. I have a living problem. What do you mean? What do you mean? Well, see, drugs and alcohol make it possible for me to live in a world that I can't live in, you know, because I've got so many resentments, you know, because I'm angry

about the MC5, because I'm angry that, you know, my peers are all wealthy and I'm not, you know, I'm angry because I didn't get the girl I wanted. So I have all this baggage that I carry with me, and it makes the world a world I can't live in. So fortunately, I've been able to find a way to live where drinking isn't necessary and getting high isn't necessary and that I can have a good life, a full life, and be grateful for every day that I have in this life. MC5 founder, singer, and guitarist Wayne Kramer speaking to Terry Gross in 2002. He died last week at age 75. Here's the song he wrote for trumpeter Red Rodney, whom he met in prison.

What the notes came out his horn, the street corners and fried food. Folks laughing in the nightclub, swinging in a mellow mood Out the horn came city nights on 52nd Street Dope beans on the neon lights, moving to the beat The red arrow couldn't play anything The man could read fly shit From Brahms to Beethoven The latest Broadway hits

He carried himself with style And a band of hits to grace And a song inside his heart And a smile on his face The red hero Wrote it hard And waved it in Coming up, we remember actor Carl Weathers, who died last week at age 76.

He played Apollo Creed in the early Rocky movies and, more recently, had a prominent role in the Star Wars TV series The Mandalorian. This is Fresh Air. This is Fresh Air. I'm David B. Incouley. We don't even have a choice. See, we're born with a killer instinct that you can't just turn off and on like some radio. We have to be right in the middle of the action because we're the warriors. And without some challenge, without some damn war to fight, then the warrior may as well be dead, Stallion. That's actor Carl Weathers in the role of prize fighter turned trainer Apollo Creed in the film Rocky IV. He played in all of those early Rocky

films. Weathers died last week at the age of 76. Carl Weathers was a linebacker for the Oakland Raiders before he turned his attention to acting. His other roles include Combat Carl in the animated Toy Story 4. When Combat Carl gets stuck in a jam, he says to himself, Combat Carl never gives up. Combat Carl finds a way. He also parodied himself in the sitcom Arrested Development, playing a money-pinching acting coach. In this scene, with Tobias, played by David Cross, they're at a party where food has been served. Tobias is chewing on a rib and is about to toss it.

Do you see me more as the respected dramatic actor or more of the beloved comic actor? Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. There's still plenty of meat on that bone. You take this home, throw it in a pot, add some broth, a potato. Baby, you got a stew going. Yes, that's fine, but I would like to focus on my acting, Mr. Weathers. I did give you my last $1,100.

Let me tell you a little story about acting. I was doing the Showtime movie Hot Ice with Ann Archer. Never once touched my pateen. I go to craft service, get some raw veggies, bacon, cup of soup. Maybe I had a stew going. I think I'd like my money back. Weathers also co-starred in the Adam Sandler comedy Happy Gilmore

and in the action movie Predator with Arnold Schwarzenegger. More recently, he played Grief Karga in the Disney plus Star Wars TV series The Mandalorian. Terry Gross spoke with Carl Weathers in 1988. At the time, he was playing the title role in the film Action Jackson, about a cop sidelined to a desk job for unorthodox behavior, a part that was written for Carl Weathers. In fact, Weathers came up with the character's name. Actually, I was talking to an Australian one day, and he was telling me about this incredible love affair that he was in.

And then he made mention of a phrase, Action Jackson. And I said, hey, sounds like a good movie to me. Sounds like a guy I'd like to know. And then I had this name, this last name, Jackson, and I was looking for a first name. And I thought, well, you know, he's a strong guy and he's very physical and you think of something happening. And I think of Jericho, the walls came tumbling down. And so that's pretty much how it came about. Now, you're a very muscular guy, but you're more of an athlete than say, well, I don't know if you bodybuild or not, but your background is an athlete as opposed to martial arts, for instance.

Yes, yes. So in writing the stunts, were the stunts written for someone from your kind of athletic background? Yes. When I do movies and develop movies now, I certainly look when I'm the star of the movie or I'm involved in the movie and a lot of the stunts to build stunts that I can do very well. And then, you know, the kind of stuff that's more like track and field and that comes out of football, which is the world I came out of, as opposed to bodybuilding and, and, uh, martial arts and that kind of thing, you know? Well, really the very first stunt that you do is running. There's a scene where, where you're kind of attacked by a taxi cab. I like that. I love the way you put that.

And you say, I've got to go and catch a cab. And you start chasing the cab. And in the movie, you're running at the same speed that the cab is going. I ultimately chase it and catch it and then surpass it and jump on top of it. It's a Carl Weathers kind of day. You know what I mean? Kind of stuff I do on a normal day in Los Angeles. Well, just the running, just seeing you run, I thought, well, that's the first stunt. Yes, that was 12 hours that day of just running.

It was the toughest day I've ever had in filmmaking. Was that part of the goal, to get to see you run? I mean, were you a very good runner when you were a football player? It wasn't so much that. I think since I did some of the Rockies, though, and particularly the scene that we're running on the beach, a lot of the kind of male and particularly women, women love to see this body and this flesh moving around. Isn't it terrible? I mean, this group of humanity who wants to see this man's body running down the beach or

running on a sidewalk or running down the street. So I said, come on. I make movies for people. I make movies for people who like movies and who want to go see movies. Give them what they want. Run, Carl, run. See Carl run. Carl can run fast. Okay, so we got this scene where you're running at the same speed that the taxi cab is being driven. Special effects there? No, it was real. That was all very real. Another real athletic moment for you. There's a huge, big guy guarding. He's huge and big. Yes, he is, all in one.

He's guarding the door. He's unbudgeable. You punch him in the face. You punch him in the chest. All it does is hurt your knuckles. Yes. And then you basically ram him as if you were doing a tackle in a football move. And you ram him right through the doorway.

And that struck me as a real football kind of maneuver. What do you want from me? That's where I come from, you know? It's kind of move, and you ram him right through the doorway. And that struck me as a real football kind of maneuver. What do you want from me? That's where I come from, you know? It's kind of like a moral. So was that written for you? Yes, it was. Like, let's give him a real football kind of thing to do? Well, it wasn't.

I don't think it was specified as football. But, you know, men are strange animals. It's kind of like an elephant. You know, you run at it, you knock it down, you mow it down, and then you get up and say, hey, I did it. And that's pretty much the way that whole thing was designed. We had to show you different aspects of Jackson and also do it with tongue-in-cheek and a sense of humor. May I help you? Yeah, I'd like to speak to Miss Ash.

I don't recommend that course of action. I do. You're one big fella. How much do you weigh? 270 pounds. That's pretty big. I bet you make a good living at this, don't you? Good enough. It helps pay my way through medical school. If I was to hit you again,

you'd probably slam my little body right through that wall back there now, wouldn't you? I was thinking about it, but it goes against all my Muslim beliefs. Good. Let me do one of your lines. Your police captain calls you in and says, Jackson, you tore that kid's arm off, and you say, So he had a spare. I love that.

I love that line. A lot of people have liked that line. That's one of the, for me, that's one of the best lines in the whole movie. And Bill Duke, the guy who plays my captain, he was in Predator also so we've worked together before. He's a good friend and he's a wonderful director besides.

Now you got started as an athlete, football player. Were you interested in acting when you were playing football? Well in actuality, really I got started as an actor when I was in fifth or sixth grade. It's the first play that I ever did. And I went through years of junior high school and high school. And finally, in the college, when I got a scholarship as a football player at San Diego State U, I majored in theater, you know, drama, and got a degree in dramatic arts. And I was just very fortunate that I got a chance to do both things. one particular point in my life. I was a football player and essentially earning my

living that way and having a lot of fun doing that. And at another point, you know, I get to do what I've always wanted to do since I was a kid, which would be a professional actor. I think people first really noticed you in your role as Apollo Creed in Rocky. And how were you cast in that? Did you know much about boxing? I knew nothing about boxing. I had never boxed. I'd never had gloves on. I'd never been in the ring.

I'd never been to a boxing match. And I knew about the script. I mean, there was this wonderful script circulating, and the producers and the director, John Appleson, apparently had seen just about everybody in the country. So at this particular point, you know, they were, I guess, at a loss for someone, lost for someone to play this role. And I, at the same time, wanted to desperately to get into interview for this role. Finally, they got me in to read and I went in, it was very late one afternoon, about 6, 630. And I went in and they introduced me to the director and I met Bob and

Erwin, the producers. And finally, they introduced me to call the man and he was the in and they introduced me to the director and I met Bob and Erwin, the producers. And finally they introduced me to call the man in and he was the writer and they introduced me to him and I said, how you doing and all that sort of stuff. And he sat down at a desk and I read with the writer and the writer was reading and I was reading and the writer was reading and I was reading and he didn't get very excited about the reading.

So finally, at the end of it all, when everyone was very quiet in the room and they were sort of looking at each other and maybe mumbling to each other. I'm very nervous that maybe I've blown the interview, you know, because it's very important. You want to get it. You're just anxious.

And I turned to them and just blurted out, you know, if you get me a real actor, I could do a much better job. Well, I didn't know that the writer and the star of the movie were one and the same. They didn't say, this is Sylvester Stallone. He's going to star in the movie. Right, you laughed. That's the say, this is Sylvester Stallone. He's going to star in the movie. Right, you laugh.

That's the way I felt. I felt like an idiot. I felt like a moron after I realized this guy was starring in the movie also. But needless to say, apparently ignorance truly is bliss. I got the role ultimately. You get a knockout punch in Rocky IV that kills the character. Yes, kills him off. He's dead in the ring.

Did you want to be written out of the series? No. Are you kidding? No. I mean, not in a million years would I have wanted to be written out. But once it was done, you know, as much as I resisted in the beginning, I realized that there was a great opportunity because, first of all, the character is immortalized in the ring,

you know, in the movie. And then by that character dying, finally, you know, Carl Weathers has a chance to go on and live in other roles because once the character is dead, then it's very obvious that Carl Weathers is an actor. And, you know, if you've got to die, what a wonderful afterlife. Carl Weathers, thanks a lot for talking with us.

Thank you. Pleasure. Carl Weathers speaking to Terry Gross in 1988. The actor featured in the early Rocky movies and more recently in the Star Wars TV series The Mandalorian, died last week at age 76. Coming up, film critic Justin Chang reviews The Taste of Things, the award-winning new French film starring Juliette Binoche. This is Fresh Air.

The new movie The Taste of Things stars Juliette Binoche and Benoit Majumel as a pair of 19th-century French cooks. It was France's official Oscar submission for Best International Feature, and it received the Cannes Film Festival's directing prize for its filmmaker, Tran Anh Hung. Our film critic, Justin Chang, found the film satisfying in a variety of ways. I first saw The Taste of Things at 8.30 in the morning at a Cannes Film Festival press screening last year. Like a lot of other journalists, I walked in jet-lagged, bleary-eyed, and hopeful that what I was about to see would, at the very least, keep me awake. It did, and then some. In the opening moments, as I watched Juliette Binoche putter about a rustic 19th century French kitchen,

whipping eggs for an omelette, my stomach began to rumble, and I wished I'd had more for breakfast than an espresso. In time, I was not only fully alert, but held rapt as Binoche prepared one elaborate, mouth-watering dish after another. A roasted veal loin, a milk-poached turbo, a shimmering baked Alaska. For about 40 minutes, she cooks and cooks and cooks, in a gorgeously directed sequence that plays out with very few words and no music. Just the sounds of sizzling butter, bubbling broth, and utensils scraping against crockery. The taste of things is, in every sense, a feast of a movie. A foodie tour de force to set beside such culinary classics as Babette's Feast,

Like Water for Chocolate, and Tampopo. It's also one of the most deeply felt romances to hit the screen in ages. It's 1889, and Binoche plays Eugénie, who's lived and worked for years as the cook in the home of a famous gourmet, Dordain Buffon, who's known throughout France as the Napoleon of the culinary arts. He's played by Benoit Magimel. Both Eugénie and Dodin have spent their lives in the pursuit and perfection of culinary pleasure, something we see from the ease and assurance with which they move around the kitchen. We can also see that they're deeply in love. Indeed, it's hard to tell where their love for food ends and their love for each other begins. For years, Daudin has

asked Eugenie to marry him, but she doesn't see why their years-long commitment to each other requires the official blessing of marriage. On most nights, he steals up to her bedroom, at which point the camera discreetly turns away. After you've seen Daudin prepare Eugenie a dish of oysters, watching them make love would be practically redundant. The movie was exquisitely written and directed by Tran Anh Hung, a Vietnamese-French filmmaker who, from his early films like The Scent of Green Papaya, has always delighted in ravishing the senses. His script, very loosely drawn from Marcel Houffe's classic 1924 novel The Passionate Epicure, doesn't have a ton of plot.

Instead, it glides from one leisurely, multi-course meal to another, observing as dishes are prepared and eaten, and eavesdropping on snatches of dinnertime conversation. It isn't the story that makes the taste of things so enveloping. It's the luscious atmosphere of unhurried indulgence and vicarious privilege. As the film continues, it becomes more elegiac in tone. This is a story about the passage of time and the sacrifices that artists make in devoting themselves to their craft. Eugénie and Daudin consider taking on a young apprentice named Pauline,

who already shows promising signs of becoming a great cook. But as they note, it will take years of intense practice and study for her to realize her potential. Meanwhile, Eugenie isn't in the best of health. She keeps having fainting spells, which she tries to downplay. It's a reminder that nothing lasts forever, not yesterday's meals or even tomorrow's discoveries. The Taste of Things isn't the only great foodie movie of the season. You may have also heard about Menu Plaisir Les Trois Gros, Frederick Wiseman's magnificent four-hour documentary about the operations of a family-owned three-Michelin-star restaurant in France's Loire Valley. Ridiculously, Menu Plaisir, easily one of the

best non-fiction films of last year, wasn't even shortlisted for the Oscar for Best Documentary Feature. Meanwhile, France submitted The Taste of Things for the International Feature category, but it wasn't ultimately nominated. But the lack of official recognition from the Motion Picture Academy doesn't diminish the beauty and satisfaction of either of these two movies. See them both, one after another if you can, and don't forget to eat in between. Justin Chang is a film critic for The New Yorker. He reviewed The Taste of Things. On Monday's Fresh Air, actress Molly Ringwald. She stars in the new FX series Feud, Capote vs. the Swans, as Joanne Carson, ex-wife of talk show host Johnny Carson, and one of Capote's most loyal friends.

Ringwald rose to fame representing Gen X angst in 80s films like Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, and Pretty in Pink. I hope you can join us. Fresh Air's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our senior producer today is Roberta Schurock. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham, with additional engineering support by Joyce Lieberman, Julian Hertzfeld, and Al Banks. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Amy Sallet,

Phyllis Myers, Sam Brigger, Lauren Krenzel, Heidi Saman, Teresa Madden, Anne-Marie Baldonado, Thea Chaloner, Seth Kelly, and Susan Yakundi. Our digital media producer is Molly Seavey Nesper. For Terry Gross and Tanya Mosley, I'm David Bianculli.