When you think about it, it's downright unprecedented. Prime-time television's biggest
black stars-Will Smith of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Martin Lawrence of Martin-are starring in
Bad Boys, a big-budget Hollywood action comedy full of stunts and explosions and big,
crowd-pleasing laughs. Two for the price of one. Call it Beverly Hills Cop2 meets Miami Twice.

It's easy to think that these entertainers, who hold sway over their own hit network sitcoms, would
have been at each other's throats, throwing prima donna shade over the slightest of perceived slights.
But according to both actors, things were smooth. "We basically ad-libbed every scene," Will says.
"It was two and a half months of two of the silliest guys in comedy doing exactly what they wanted
to."

In Bad Boys, they play two Miami detectives in the special narcotics division whose temperaments
are 180 degrees apart: Will is Mike Lowrey, a flashy playboy; Martin is Marcus Burnett, a
homebody family man with a mortgage to pay. After making the biggest arrest in the department's
history, the duo have to find the thief who stole $100 million worth of heroin from the station house,
or they'll lose their jobs.
 

Smith and Lawrence weren't necessarily playing their roles from experience-offscreen
they're different, but not in the way the Bad Boys are. At the time of filming, Will was the
married-with-child brother who wanted to focus on family values, and Martin was the recently
dis-engaged rascal, doing his thing on the singles scene. Now, on the eve of the film's release, it
seems they've done another role reversal. Will Smith is grappling with an impending divorce from
Sheree, his wife for more than two years, and with how it will affect their two-year-old son, Willard
C. "Trey" Smith III. He says he's not yet ready to talk about the situation, though he does note that
the sudden death of his infant half brother, Sterling, took him back to Philly, where he now intends to
spend more time. On the flip side, Martin Lawrence got married in January to ex-beauty queen
Patricia Southall. He and his wife are planning for children, and Lawrence, after a year of
professional ups and downs, looks at the future with great expectations.

Everything's happening so fast for these two transplanted twentysomething East Coast guys who
found fame and fortune out West by doing their versions of black-boy cool for the masses. So fast
and furious, in fact, that crammed schedules never allowed all three of us to meet at the same time. I
had to wait endlessly for Martin. First he was just back from his Caymans honeymoon, then he said
he had injured his back, then he was busy finishing his show's "Player's Ball" episode, featuring an
array of blaxploitation stars. All that waiting, however, left plenty of time to chill with the very
accommodating Will Smith.

We spent one day cruising around L.A., pumping Teddy Riley's BLACKstreet tape in Will's white
Ford Bronco. I had been there last June when the media began its all-out assault on O.J., so driving
along the freeway in this particular ride with a black male superstar at my side took on an almost
surreal quality. "I had mine before all that started," Will noted. But the irony didn't escape him. When
the ringing car phone signaled Will's booming system to automatically pause, one thing raced through
my mind: The rich really are different. But the price of livin' large is steep out in this bright-lights,
big-titty world, where dream seekers flock and where black boys, in particular, come to Blow Up, if
not to Grow Up. Will Smith and Martin Lawrence are trying their best to do both.

Cavorting around the low-key set of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air wearing oatmeal colored linen and
boots, Will Smith seems thinner in person, wiry almost, even though he had to follow an extensive
workout regimen for his movie role. His face does its trademark dance between seriousness and
just-buggin', the balancing act between sophistication and boyishness that has kept this 26-year-old
in the public eye for the past eight years.

Smith's office conveys the same sense of his multilayered self. A big-screen TV is in one corner, the
tangled joystick cords of a Sega video game in front of it. A mini-stereo rests on a low table,
surrounded by cassettes. A plethora of gold and platinum D.J. Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince
records line the far wall, a reminder of the up-and-down road that led to Will Smith's current state of
Blowing Up affairs. And adjacent to that wall hangs a huge painting-by a fan from Miami-of Will
uncharacteristically in repose. It doesn't seem vain for Will Smith to have a massive painting of
himself in his dressing room. One gets the impression he needs his more serious side to look down
upon him, to bestow the necessary intensity to reach his goal: to be the reigning funnyman in the
prime-time wars-which is as serious a job as any, as Martin Lawrence also well knows.