by Bennet Omalu
Over those three days, I shared things I had never told anyone before. Peter Landesman took copious notes and recorded every session. Ridley and Giannina were abroad producing the films The Martian and Exodus: Gods and Kings, but they joined us by phone several times. My medical training kicked in through the process, and I began to detach myself from the entire experience. I did not want to be consumed by the intoxicating allure of it all. I chose not to make this about me. Yes, this was my story, but this movie needed to be about the journey and the people I encountered along the way, celebrating our common humanity.
On the last day, I was given the names of the three actors who were under consideration to play me: Denzel Washington, Idris Alba, and Will Smith. To say I was flattered by the options is an understatement. Denzel Washington’s and Will Smith’s bodies of work speak for themselves, while Idris Alba had already played the part of one of my heroes, Nelson Mandela. I kept quiet as those in the room discussed who would make the best choice. After much discussion, the consensus was that Will Smith was a better fit for my upbeat yet intense and complicated personality. Ridley Scott reached out to him once the script was finished. Though Will was involved in another movie at the time, he asked for the script. This too was the hand of God. Peter sent it to him.
Several days later, I was driving home from work after a very long day of testifying in court. The defense attorney attacked me, trying to cast doubt on the testimony I had given on behalf of the prosecution. By the end of it, all I wanted to do was get home to my family and put work behind me. During the drive, my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Peter Landesman. My heart jumped. I picked up the phone and yelled, “Peter! What’s up? How are you doing, my friend?” I don’t know why I was yelling, except that I could not control my emotions. I knew he was calling about the movie.
Peter replied in a very calm voice, “Bennet, calm down. I was just at Will Smith’s house, and everything looks good.”
“Are you kidding me? Wow!” I said. “You mean he might actually take the part?”
“He’s thinking about it,” Peter replied. “There’s just one thing. He wants to meet you first.”
“Oooohhhhhh. Really? Why? When?”
Peter ignored the why and went straight to the when. “Are you available tomorrow or Friday?”
“Yes. Either one. Anything for you, Peter,” I said.
“Okay. Stand by. I’ll let you know which is going to work for Will.”
When I got home, I could hardly get the words out to Prema—I was so excited. Two days later, on Friday morning, the call came. A limo was going to pick me up at four o’clock and drive me to Sacramento for a flight to Los Angeles. I went to work but didn’t accomplish much. Around two o’clock that afternoon, I went home and took a shower. I put on a blue suit and a starched white shirt. Prema walked into the bedroom, took a look at me, and said, “I don’t think so. Bennet, that doesn’t look right.” She went over to my closet and picked out a light brown suit and a beige shirt with brown oxford shoes. After I changed, Prema stood back and looked me over. “That’s much better.” Out on the street I heard the limo pull up. Prema hugged me tight and whispered in my ear, “Good luck.” Our daughter and son, Ashly and Mark, gazed in utter amazement and delight, not really knowing what was going on. I only told them that Daddy was going to work like I always did when I traveled to testify in court cases across the country.
I was nervous when I got into the limo. My heart was racing. Deep inside, I kept hearing the Spirit remind me, “Bennet, remember in medical school where you just wanted to be yourself? Now is the time. Be yourself. Just be yourself.” I took a deep breath and settled into the seat. “Be yourself.” I ended up nodding off to sleep. An hour later, the driver woke me up and told me we were at the airport.
The flight from Sacramento to Los Angeles International Airport does not take long. Sony Pictures had booked me a first-class seat. I was not used to such luxury. After we landed at LAX, the same airport where I had landed when I first arrived in America so many years before, another limo driver greeted me. This was quite a change from 1994, when I wandered around the airport lost, looking for a toilet. Now I felt like the guest of honor. I climbed in the back of the limo, and we took off to where I did not know. After crawling along the freeways and streets of LA, the limo pulled up to the Bel Air Hotel. Bel Air was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. The cars coming and going at the hotel made my jaw drop. Movie stars mingled about.
Once inside the hotel, I did not know what to do. Thankfully, I heard someone call out, “Bennet.” I turned to see Peter Landesman walking toward me. When we got close enough to talk, he looked me in the eye and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I am fine,” I lied. Inside I was a nervous wreck. Where am I? Why am I here? I do not belong here!
Peter sensed what I was thinking. “Relax, Bennet. Right now you belong in this place as much as anyone else. Just mind your business, and do not let this place get to you. If you see a famous person, simply pretend you do not know them. They do not want you to go over and acknowledge them. That’s not what they are here for, and neither are you. Okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“Do you need a drink to calm you down?” Peter asked.
“Yes, very much,” I said.
“So do I,” he replied. He held my shoulders while leading me into the bar. Just as he had told me, famous people were everywhere. I did my best to ignore them. When we got to the bar, we heard a voice calling out, “Peter!” It was Giannina Scott, who had just arrived at the hotel and was walking to the bar to meet us. What a gorgeous, elegant woman, yet she too seemed a bit anxious. The three of us sat down at a table and ordered something to drink.
Peter, Giannina, and I sat and talked. Peter’s assistant had told him that Will Smith was on his way. My heart began to race when he said this. From the moment Peter told me I was going to meet Will Smith, I had rehearsed in my mind what I was going to say to him. I did not want to come across as an overeager fan. No, I needed to be confident and comfortable. I planned on standing erect, face held high, and extending my hand and saying “Hi, Will. I’m Bennet.” I rehearsed the line in my mind over and over.
About ten minutes after we arrived, a restaurant employee came over to inform us that Mr. Smith was waiting for us in a private dining room. I have to say that it is a very unusual experience to meet someone face-to-face whom you have only previously seen on a television or movie screen. Will stood as we walked over to the table. He walked over to Peter first and hugged him, and then he hugged Giannina. Because I am a short man, he could not see me behind them. “Where’s Dr. Omalu?” Will asked.
Peter and Giannina stepped aside and stretched out their arms to introduce me. “Hi, I’m Will Smith,” Will said, extending his hand.
As I shook his hand, I said, “I am Bennet Omalu. Please call me Bennet.”
“And call me Will,” he said.
“I am so honored to meet you,” I said. My heart raced inside me. In my heart, I recited the prayer I had prayed so often since I came to America: Jesus, I love You. All I have is Thine. Yours I am, and Yours I want to be. Do with me what Thou wilt.
“It’s an honor for me too,” Will said. “Here, Bennet, sit next to me.” He pulled his chair close to me, rested his forearm across the back of my chair, and engaged me in conversation. We hit it off right from the start. Our dinner began at about 7:30 p.m. At midnight, we were still talking.
One of the first questions Will asked me was, “Bennet, why do you do what you do? I’ve read about how much you’ve gone through. Why don’t you stop? What can possibly be in this for you?”
“Growing up in Nigeria,” I said, “the system was corrupt, and the people suffered from it. I dreamed of coming to America. When I was a boy, I believed America was heaven on earth, that this country was the closest to what God wants us to be as His sons and daughters. This was a country where you can be whatever you wa
nt to be, a country that gives you the platform to be yourself. I had this idealistic view of America, where I believed it was a place where there was no corruption, and the individual was the centerpiece that held the society together.
“When I discovered CTE in Mike Webster, I believed my discovery would be celebrated and embraced as a way of protecting those who were being harmed by football. But that did not happen. I experienced firsthand the way the NFL and the larger society degrade the individual and use them for their own purposes. The truth was being smeared, blurred, and covered up. So I rose up in anger to stand by the truth, not as a moralist, but as a child of God, as a man striving to find himself and live a life invested in the truth and the light of God in America, a land where there was, in my mind, no corruption.”
Throughout the night, I poured out my heart to Will. A little after midnight, his phone rang. He then said, “I have to go.” We said our good-byes and took a photo together. I rode in a limo to my hotel in Beverly Hills. I could hardly sleep after a night like that. Finally I managed to drift off.
At about 6:00 a.m. the next morning, my phone rang. “Bennet, you did it, man!” Peter shouted into the phone.
“What?” I said, trying to wake up.
“Will just called me. He’s in. You know, he didn’t want to do this picture. He’s a big football fan, and he got what this movie is all about. His son played football. But after spending time with you last night, man, he’s in. Now get your butt outta bed, and let’s go celebrate!”
After I hung up the phone, all I could think was that God is good. I knew my story was in the best of hands. More than that, I knew the truth had prevailed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Concussion
Dr. Omalu, do you have a medical degree?” a voice asked.
“Yes, from the University of Nigeria at Enugu, Nigeria” came the answer—but not from me. An uncomfortable chill ran up my spine as I heard these words echo through the darkened theatre for the first time. The final edits to the movie had not yet been made, but for all intents and purposes, it was finished and playing on a big screen for me right then. The producers were anxious to get my reaction to the film. It was very important to them that I liked it. That was the reason behind this screening. Gugu Mbatha-Raw, the beautiful actress who so eloquently portrayed Prema, sat behind me. Other members of the cast and crew were scattered about the theatre.
When the lights went down and the movie began to play, the experience felt like watching any other movie. The film opens with Mike Webster’s Hall of Fame speech. I had never heard it, and I found it fascinating. Then Will Smith appeared on the screen. He sat in the witness stand in a courtroom. The defense attorney addressed him as Dr. Omalu. Suddenly my moviegoing experience turned upside down. This was not at all like watching a movie. My brain could not process what this was. I had never experienced anything like it before. As a physician, I knew what was happening to me. I was in shock. How is it possible that my life is on this movie screen? my mind screamed at me.
I know that last sentence is difficult to believe. In my head, I knew a movie was being made about my life. I had spent a great deal of time with the writers and with Will Smith and had served as a technical consultant for the crew as they tried to get all the details just right. Some days my email in-box filled up with nearly a hundred questions regarding the movie. My phone rang constantly as I answered question after question. I even spent time on the set and flew back to Pittsburgh, as parts of the movie were filmed there. Cyril Wecht and I reconnected through the making of this movie. So if you had asked me, “Bennet, do you know they are making a movie about your life starring Will Smith as you?” I would have said to you, “Of course I know. What a stupid question!”
However, when I sat down in the theatre and watched the film for the very first time, I found I was totally unprepared for the mental conflict in my mind. As Will Smith answered the defense attorney’s questions in a strong and accurate Nigerian accent, my head began to spin. I fell into a somewhat trancelike state. My brain could not process the information that my eyes and ears sent it. People on the screen were talking to me, and I was answering, but it was not me. Slowly I began to realize that I was watching a movie about myself. I know that sounds like a very silly statement, since I had aided in the making of the very movie I was now watching. Yet there is a big difference between knowing and experiencing. My mind struggled to accept the experience.
I remained in this state until the midpoint of the movie—trying to watch and trying not to watch at the same time. Shock gave way to a wave of positive emotions in the scene where Will Smith (as me) asked Prema to marry him. When I heard Gugu (as Prema) say, “If you want to marry me, I will marry you,” a flood of memories rushed over me. Tears welled up in my eyes. More wonderful memories came. The tears began running down my face in rivulets. Thankfully, I was prepared, for I had a handkerchief with me. I was also thankful the theatre was dark; I don’t think anyone noticed me crying.
The tears kept coming until the movie came to an end. When the final scene was over, I sat and stared at the screen. I did not even know the theatre lights had been turned up. Gugu left the theatre. I did not notice. Finally I gathered myself and stood up. I turned and faced the producers and crew and everyone else connected with the film who sat behind me. No one said a word. Then I smiled and gave a thumbs-up. The theatre broke out in applause and cheering. The editorial team seemed the most exhilarated. Peter Landesman came over to me. “How was it?” he asked. He wanted more than a thumbs-up response.
“Most beautiful. I love it. Thank you so much, Peter, and may God bless you,” I replied.
Peter hugged me. “I’m glad you like it,” he said.
I left the theatre, but my legs had trouble carrying me. The experience of seeing all I had gone through over the previous thirteen years play out on screen overwhelmed me. I felt numb. It was more than the impact of the movie itself. Watching the film released all of the emotions I had experienced since the day I met Mike Webster and began searching for answers for him. Through the movie, those answers would soon be on display for all the world to see. The truth was going to prevail. No doubt some could still deny the truth, but their voices would ring hollow.
When I arrived at my hotel, I went up to my room and went straight to bed. I did not stir for twelve hours.
The next time I watched the movie, I had a different experience. Unlike the first screening, the second time I watched the film I was able to sit back and take it all in. I must say, watching Will Smith on the screen was like watching a taller—and my wife would say better-looking—version of myself. I forgot I was watching Will Smith. He became me.
The transformation became most apparent to me in the first scene, where Will performs an autopsy. The moment made me smile. In preparation for the role, Will and Peter came to Lodi to watch me work. The two of them stood beside me during an autopsy. I made sure there were chairs in the room where they could sit down when the sights, sounds, and smells became too much. Will was a good student, for when he performed an autopsy on the screen, I saw my own mannerisms and heard myself saying the very things I say to my patients as I work on them. During the many hours Will and I spent together as he prepared for the role, he once said to me, “Bennet, do not worry. I will do you justice.” He was true to his word.
The second time through, I was also able to appreciate some of the smaller touches Peter Landesman and Ridley Scott made sure to include. In an early scene where Will is driving along in his Mercedes, the image of a jetliner is reflected in the car windshield. For most people, this meant nothing. To me, I knew this was an acknowledgment of how I had never wanted to be a doctor; I had wanted to be an airline pilot.
Another image made me choke up with emotion, and it does every time I watch the movie. Several times in the film, the camera shows a photograph on the wall. In one scene, Gugu asks Will, “Is this your father?” The photograph was indeed a photograph of my father. Will first saw t
he picture on a visit to our home in Lodi. He asked me that same question. I told him my father’s story, which touched him. Unfortunately, my father did not get to see the movie. He died in May 2014 at the age of ninety-one during the early phases of the film’s production. I still cannot believe he is gone. When I shared this story with Will, he said to me, “We must include your father in this film to honor him.” The appearance of his photograph in the movie was all because of Will.
The movie went through a few more revisions and final edits after the initial screenings I watched at the Sony studios. When everything wrapped up, I went back home to Lodi and tried to resume my normal work routines. However, Sony kept me busy on projects related to the film. I was gone more than I was home, which I did not like. I hated being gone from my family, but I knew this was only temporary. Besides, I knew Sony had something special in store for all of us.
• • • •
It was a not-so-cold early November night in Los Angeles. I found myself in the backseat of a black Cadillac Escalade. Prema sat opposite me. Behind us our daughter, Ashly, and son, Mark, chattered away in somewhat reserved excitement about what was to come. The chauffeur picked us up at the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills, one of the nicest hotels I have ever stayed in. The only hotel to which I can compare it is the Burj Al Arab Hotel in Dubai where my family stayed in the summer of 2012 during the first vacation I had ever taken since coming to the United States. We took that trip to celebrate Prema’s obtaining her U.S. citizenship. This ride in the back of the black Escalade through the streets of Los Angeles was another celebratory trip.
