photo by steed media service

Story by Terry Shropshire
Images by Kahlill Van Zant for Steed Media Service

CHICAGO - Maybe he started smelling himself, some folks deduced. Maybe his head started swelling up like a bag of microwave popcorn. Maybe, after experiencing some success, he had become as fake as silicone breast implants. Maybe he took time off to go to war with the other Chris, Chris Rock, a ridiculous rumor weaving its way recklessly through the 'hood the way Lindsay Lohan weaves behind the wheel of a car (they both are allegedly working separately to produce and star in a comedy about the nation's first black president). Maybe he's been coolin' it ever since he was arrested for peeling back slabs of concrete on the Atlanta highways in his 2005 Bentley, treating the speed limit like it was something optional, and driving faster than his fuel-injected explanation to the policeman (he said he was late for church). Whatever the reason, Christopher Tucker was making movies about as often as George W. Bush delivers an eloquent speech. Which is to say hardly ever. It seemed as soon as the American Dream started glittering on the horizon - in the form of the Ice Cube-led Friday, and then with Rush Hour - Tucker recoiled from the spotlight and cordoned himself off from the Hollywood hype machine.

What's he been up to? Well, he hasn't just lying on top of those bundled bags of Benjamins he brought back from the first two Rush Hour films. After taking six years off between movies - a fatal move for most thespians - some fans believed that Tucker's career was a flatliner. But he's here to show you that his game was never even in critical condition. Turns out that Tucker has been treating the world like an after-church buffet, devouring life and all of its flavorful offerings - but he's been doing it on his own terms. In the interim, Tucker has procured a higher sense of true happiness and success that runs counter to Tinseltown conventionality.

The high-pitched, hyperactive master of Hollywood hijinks has been orchestrating his career just right, it turns out. Tucker secured a cool $25 mill to reprise the role of wisecracking Officer Carter in what's been a box-office blockbuster series. Rush Hour 3 whisks Carter and Inspector Lee (Jackie Chan) through the legendary romantic city of Paris in order to obliterate the most dangerous and ruthless crime syndicate in the world, the Chinese Triad. Tucker resembles an executive chef sampling the food of his underlings when it comes to meticulously musing over movie roles.

"Well, you know, I'm a perfectionist. And I don't want to make movies just to make [them]. I want to make films that inspire me. That's the reason I chose the first Rush Hour," says Tucker, who'll turn 35 in August, in the middle of a national promotional tour that'll end in San Francisco. "I knew that it was fresh, it was new. No one had ever seen that kind of comedy before. You've seen buddy cop movies, but not a black guy and an Asian guy."

His renowned pickiness over roles is why Tucker defied convention and rejected Ice Cube's offer to remake Friday. Then he rejected Any Given Sunday. At first, industry folks looked at him like he was wearing his underwear on the outside of his pants. But it's hard to question his decision after the first two Rush Hour films have reached Beverly Hills Cop levels in terms of box-office receipts, longevity and lovability.

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