20 years later: Spike Lee: still gotta have it: after 20 years in the movie business, award-winning filmmaker is making new statement with a film on Hurricane Katrina

It's the quaint lobby of a New York City hotel. But when Spike Lee walks in, it might as well be the main terminal of Grand Central Station.

"Hey, Spike, do the right thing," one dude yells. "Hey, Spike, what happened to the Knicks?" the bell-hop chimes in. Between the shout-outs, handshakes, hugs and snapshots from the local hotel workers and the not-so-local tourists--like the one Asian woman who spoke little English but knew a lot about Lee--interviewing "Mr. New York" on his home turf proves to be as tough as playing an uninterrupted game of one-on-one with Michael Jordan on a neighborhood blacktop on Chicago's South Side.

And if squeezing in questions weren't hard enough--getting juicy answers--well, that was akin to squeezing blood from a turnip. In a New York minute, the best-laid interview plans dried up like the Knicks late in the fourth quarter. The query went something like this:

Question: Who's the best young filmmaker right now? "They're all good. I can't judge," he says.

Question: Which one of your films is your favorite? "They all are."

Question: What would you be doing if you weren't a filmmaker? "I never thought about it."

What happened to the outspoken filmmaker who became one of the most recognized faces in America when he sported a flipped-up Brooklyn cap and funky square glasses as he upstaged MJ in those old Nike commercials? What happened to that man--Mars Blackmon--the fast-talking alter ego who made "Yo! Money" a household phrase, and Shelton Jackson Lee--the fast-talking ego himself--who seemed to have an opinion about everybody and everything?

Turns out, after two decades of moviemaking, in which Lee has directed 20 films grossing more than a quarter of a billion dollars collectively, a peculiar thing happened. Lee turned 30, then 40, and now is just months shy of turning 50. He's married and is the father of two children. His rough edges have smoothed, and his tongue has traded in a little quickness for a lot of wisdom.

Make no mistake (from his entrepreneurial spirit to his dogmatic personality, not to mention the Brother is still funnier than all get out), Lee continues to remain true to his core. New Yorkers would accept nothing less, and often look for nothing more.

But only after embracing multi-faceted conversation over simple inquisition did the complex layers of a man who now picks and chooses his battles emerge. During the next hour, passion mixed with pride and purpose as he talked about everything from his dislike of gangsta rappers whose "lyrics have had a detrimental effect on youth" to his dislike of gangsta politicians whose "policies wreak havoc on the world" to his love of a day at the baseball park with his family.

During the past 20 years, Spike says he has learned not only about his inner self, but about the outside world. He has learned, sometimes the hard way, not to have preconceived notions about anything or anyone, especially his audience. ("Not anymore. I did before, but I learned that you can't dictate what people are going to think or feel.") He's learned not to force situations. ("I would like to really do something in television ... but ... I'm not going to do a sitcom. And that seems to be the only thing Blacks are given an opportunity to do. So I may end up not doing anything.") And not to take his good fortune for granted. ("I'm very fortunate. I say my prayers every night because I'm blessed. The majority of people on this earth die after working at a job they hated all their life. I'm blessed.") He has learned the importance of giving back, serving as artistic director at the New York University graduate film school, and as a mentor to many of the young filmmakers trying to make their mark in Hollywood.

Described by some as "the most important African-American filmmaker ever," Lee has made an indelible mark on the film industry ever since his first studio film, She's Gotta Have It, debuted at the Cannes Film Festival in 1986. And while he says, "That's the film that started it all. That was the launching pad. I'm very proud of it ...," he admits that "I didn't know what I was doing" and was "just stumbling, bumbling along. I made many mistakes and just learned from them. There were no mistakes that were really catastrophic, so it was good that I got some bumps and bruises."

In fact, Lee says She's Gotta Have It is so bad (in light of his expertise level now), that he "can't watch it," he says of the hugely successful film that took only 15 days to film, only cost $175,000 to make, but grossed more than $8 million at the box office. "I'm saying that understanding that for a lot of people, that's their favorite film. But for me, I can't watch it. It's been years and years since I watched it. I'll watch it again, I guess, but not anytime soon."

That's in sharp contrast to his latest movie, When the Levees Broke, a film about Hurricane Katrina, which he calls an "epic documentary." In the documentary, which premiered on HBO August 21, Lee says that he hopes "to document the voices of the witnesses who were a part of this American tragedy" he says. "It's my hope that it will redirect the focus of the nation, not only back to New Orleans but the whole Gulf Coast region. It's been a year, but nothing has changed."