As he told the story, it began in childhood, after moving across America, from Mississippi to Michigan.
The irony, of course, is striking.
James Earl Jones, he who would become renowned as one of his generation’s greatest actors. He, the voice behind perhaps the most iconic villain in all of movies, struggled so strongly with a stutter and then, mutism, that they defined virtually his entire childhood.
It wasn’t that I stopped talking, it’s that I resolved that talking was too difficult. You see, in the move from Mississippi to Michigan, you would think it would be a jubilant journey for a young boy of — I was then five years old — going to the promised land, you know.
But it was the journey itself that I really feel, the being ripped from the soil is what set me into a state of trauma. So by the time I got to Michigan I was a stutterer. I couldn’t talk. So my first year of school was my first mute year and then those mute years continued until I got to high school.
Having found solace in poetry, it wasn’t until, pushed by a supportive teacher that Jones, speaking in front of his class, rediscovered his voice.
Good thing too.
Majoring in drama, he graduated from the University of Michigan in 1955 and began his career in theatre not long afterwards, debuting on Broadway in 1958.
It kickstarted a celebrated run on the stage that would last nearly 60 years, from Shakespeare to Steinbeck. But following his film debut, in Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 film, Dr. Strangelove, Jones would steadily branch out.
After winning his first Tony in 1969, as the lead in The Great White Hope, he would reprise the role as boxer Jack Jefferson in the film adaption of the play the following year… and would be nominated for an Academy Award.
It was an immediately prevalent versatility, a certain mastery, that was shaping his reputation, even then. Moving from medium-to-medium, discipline-to-discipline with a remarkable ease, as he became one of the most respected performers of his time.
Jones died on Monday. He was 93.
He was an actor, one of the rare few, who reached across not just genres and mediums but generations too.
Jones, with his authoritative voice and equally strong screen presence, able to take any role, any project and elevate it with a memorability that was nigh impossible to match.
Whether it was Conan the Barbarian or Coming to America (and its 2021 sequel), to much-loved baseball films (The Sandlot to Field of Dreams) to being a reputable television performer, working steadily on the small screen over his entire career.
From instantly-iconic guest spots on The Simpsons to, in later years, more fully embracing his comedic side as he played himself on popular sitcoms, from The Big Bang Theory to Two and a Half Men.
But as vast, respected and successful as his career’s body of work was? For so many, Jones was known for his voice.1
Perhaps it was in the quiet wisdom he brought to life as The Lion King’s Mufasa (in both the 1994 film and its 2019 remake) or, for decades, within the cold, commanding tones of Star Wars villain Darth Vader.
While English bodybuilder David Prowse physically portrayed Vader in the original Star Wars trilogy (1977-1983) as Jones once shared, George Lucas was looking for someone who could bring a more imposing vocal presence to the character - and that someone was Jones.
Per CNN, paid just a lump sum of $7,000, Jones recored his dialogue for A New Hope in just a few hours and was always willing to defer to Prowse’s on-set work before anything else, even as Star Wars became an instant phenomenon (he actively declined credit in the original releases for both A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back).
It isn’t to take anything away from Prowse whose physicality was essential in fully-realizing Vader but it is through Jones, in his matter-of-fact, menacing delivery that the character truly came alive: long before the rise-and-fall of Anakin Skywalker entered the lexicon.
He would reprise the role in various projects over the following decades, bringing his signature gravitas to each and every line and for the final time, in 2022’s Obi-Wan Kenobi (and although he was credited, in that instance, Jones gave permission for his voice to be recreated through AI).
In a 2014 interview with The New York Times, Jones, ever-modest, ever-humble, spoke to his professional longevity, of which he had no true behind-the-scenes reveal.
Just an appreciation for every project that came his way:
The secret is never forgetting that you’re a journeyman actor and that nothing is your final thing, nothing is your greatest thing, nothing is your worst thing. I still consider myself a novice.
I still run into kids who will ask me, “How do you become a star?” Well, that’s a great question — I don’t have a clue.
James Earl Jones, in 2014
Jones is survived by his son, Flynn Earl Jones.