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When a tall, hooded figure steps out in the movie’s opening scene, his face remains hidden. Woods isn’t seen in the entire movie. He’s never heard from, either. “Spirited” is a rendition of “A Christmas Carol,” that old Charles Dickens tale, and Woods plays the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.
He points, he augurs, he even dances. But he never talks. the ghost has a voice, but it’s comedian Tracy Morgan’s. In his Hollywood debut, Woods not only has to play someone else, but he doesn’t even get to sound like himself.
It was the perfect role. The one he wanted as he settled into his new career. He all but asked for it when he talked to his agent a few months before he knew it even existed.
“Is there anything that’s coming up that’s just a funny monster?” Woods said, recounting their conversation. “I could dress up. I could be like a monster. Let me be funny. Let me be goofy. Let me be my natural self. Let me do it.”
For decades, Woods didn’t know this was what he wanted. He was a second-round pick in 2001 after leading Arizona to the Final Four. He scored 22 points and grabbed 11 rebounds in his final collegiate outing, the national title game against Duke. He had stints in the NBA with the Timberwolves, Heat, Raptors and Rockets and also played nearly a decade abroad, from Spain to Bahrain.
But by 2019, he had settled into a quiet life in Phoenix. He coached a high school basketball team. He had a middle school AAU team. He ran a basketball academy before COVID-19 struck. He owned a marketing site representing clients in Europe.
Then a friend from Los Angeles reached out. There was a new TV show about to start production. It needed a tall Black man.
Woods demurred. He didn’t act, he said. That didn’t matter, his friend countered; he looked the part.
Woods trained for more than three months. He had auditioned for this job before. At Arizona, a prominent scouting website once compared him to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. This time, he was trying out to play Kareem in “Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty.” He didn’t get this role, either. Still, the producer liked Woods enough to give him a spot in the pilot.
“Four years ago, that would have been a stretch for me to try to portray that character,” Woods said. “I’m nothing like that character or Kareem as a person. I would had to have really acted at that time, and I didn’t have the chops back then. But it just rekindled an old fire that was already within me.”
Woods set out to make a new life in Hollywood — or at least try. He regularly flew and drove between Phoenix and Los Angeles — a nearly six-hour drive — for the next two years. He started taking acting classes again, rotating between schools every six months.
When Woods was preparing for the NBA Draft, more than two decades ago, he had hardly been stressed. He realized by 19 that he would make the league as long as he didn’t get hurt or do anything stupid. He had the training and the experience. Acting, however, made him self-conscious. He strived for perfection while knowing it was unattainable. He felt rejection after auditions.
Eventually, he stepped into Lesly Kahn’s acting class in Los Angeles. Before meeting her, Woods already had studied method acting — a style that dates back to the early 20th century and asks actors to immerse themselves emotionally into a role — and for a month, he studied Kahn’s version, which teaches students to be able to prepare for a part in hours instead of weeks. For Woods, who had to reheat this career after decades stuck in another one, it felt appropriate.
Kahn found a protégé willing to learn, someone already trained by his decades in professional sports. Athletes, Kahn believes, are unbothered by the vanity that accompanies most actors; they approach life more cogently. If an athlete wants to do something, she said, they’ll do it, believing enough hard work will pay off as it did for them in their sport.
“They don’t seem to have that thing the rest of us normals have: fear and insecurity and vulnerability about it,” Kahn said. “We actors have a sort of a lack of rationality, a lack of logic, and we are just so emotionally focused and emotionally drawn that we don’t have the sense God gave a cockroach.”
Kahn said she rarely refers her students to an agent, but she told Jayson Kinslow, the owner of the MMV Talent Agency, about Woods. Kinslow works with ex-basketball players; he knew of potential roles for them but didn’t always have the clients to fill them.
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He points, he augurs, he even dances. But he never talks. the ghost has a voice, but it’s comedian Tracy Morgan’s. In his Hollywood debut, Woods not only has to play someone else, but he doesn’t even get to sound like himself.
It was the perfect role. The one he wanted as he settled into his new career. He all but asked for it when he talked to his agent a few months before he knew it even existed.
“Is there anything that’s coming up that’s just a funny monster?” Woods said, recounting their conversation. “I could dress up. I could be like a monster. Let me be funny. Let me be goofy. Let me be my natural self. Let me do it.”
For decades, Woods didn’t know this was what he wanted. He was a second-round pick in 2001 after leading Arizona to the Final Four. He scored 22 points and grabbed 11 rebounds in his final collegiate outing, the national title game against Duke. He had stints in the NBA with the Timberwolves, Heat, Raptors and Rockets and also played nearly a decade abroad, from Spain to Bahrain.
But by 2019, he had settled into a quiet life in Phoenix. He coached a high school basketball team. He had a middle school AAU team. He ran a basketball academy before COVID-19 struck. He owned a marketing site representing clients in Europe.
Then a friend from Los Angeles reached out. There was a new TV show about to start production. It needed a tall Black man.
Woods demurred. He didn’t act, he said. That didn’t matter, his friend countered; he looked the part.
Woods trained for more than three months. He had auditioned for this job before. At Arizona, a prominent scouting website once compared him to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. This time, he was trying out to play Kareem in “Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty.” He didn’t get this role, either. Still, the producer liked Woods enough to give him a spot in the pilot.
“Four years ago, that would have been a stretch for me to try to portray that character,” Woods said. “I’m nothing like that character or Kareem as a person. I would had to have really acted at that time, and I didn’t have the chops back then. But it just rekindled an old fire that was already within me.”
Woods set out to make a new life in Hollywood — or at least try. He regularly flew and drove between Phoenix and Los Angeles — a nearly six-hour drive — for the next two years. He started taking acting classes again, rotating between schools every six months.
When Woods was preparing for the NBA Draft, more than two decades ago, he had hardly been stressed. He realized by 19 that he would make the league as long as he didn’t get hurt or do anything stupid. He had the training and the experience. Acting, however, made him self-conscious. He strived for perfection while knowing it was unattainable. He felt rejection after auditions.
Eventually, he stepped into Lesly Kahn’s acting class in Los Angeles. Before meeting her, Woods already had studied method acting — a style that dates back to the early 20th century and asks actors to immerse themselves emotionally into a role — and for a month, he studied Kahn’s version, which teaches students to be able to prepare for a part in hours instead of weeks. For Woods, who had to reheat this career after decades stuck in another one, it felt appropriate.
Kahn found a protégé willing to learn, someone already trained by his decades in professional sports. Athletes, Kahn believes, are unbothered by the vanity that accompanies most actors; they approach life more cogently. If an athlete wants to do something, she said, they’ll do it, believing enough hard work will pay off as it did for them in their sport.
“They don’t seem to have that thing the rest of us normals have: fear and insecurity and vulnerability about it,” Kahn said. “We actors have a sort of a lack of rationality, a lack of logic, and we are just so emotionally focused and emotionally drawn that we don’t have the sense God gave a cockroach.”
Kahn said she rarely refers her students to an agent, but she told Jayson Kinslow, the owner of the MMV Talent Agency, about Woods. Kinslow works with ex-basketball players; he knew of potential roles for them but didn’t always have the clients to fill them.
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