A great work of theater revitalized in a different medium poses challenges. When it's a formidable Tony- and Pulitzer Prize-winning work from playwright August Wilson, who developed his creative voice in Twin Cities theater during the 12 years he lived in St. Paul, expectations run particularly high.
I'm happy to report that the film adaptation of "Fences," directed by and starring Denzel Washington, moves from stage to screen impeccably. Regardless of whether its controlled style and emotionally rich cast introduce this scalding drama of family discord to new audiences or revive it for longtime followers, it's tightrope-taut theater.
Washington brings humanity and coiled ferocity to the role of Troy Maxson, a public sanitation worker in a big, nameless Eastern city in the 1950s. (The film was shot in Pittsburgh's weathered Hill District, Wilson's community growing up, and the setting for most of his work.)
From the opening moments, we get to know the troubled Troy at a level people usually ignore in their near-invisible garbageman. Wilson's stinging dialogue and Washington's commanding performance, as rich at the interior as on the surface, peel the character's hardscrabble life like an onion.
A former baseball player in the Negro leagues, he is easy to identify with but difficult to like. Long after his promising career has ended, he turns his glory days into stories that are entertaining but full of unspoken resentment that his talent never elevated his life.
Troy, who has for years promised to barricade his modest backyard from the alley, is fenced in by his own flaws, his personal disappointments and the color of his skin in a deeply discriminatory era. He has provided a row house for his family, but only thanks to veterans benefits given to his brother, Gabriel (Mykelti Williamson), when he returned from World War II wounded and mentally handicapped.
As the film exposes deeper and deeper layers, Troy is recognized as a complicated man stirred by love, dignity, lost dreams, old grievances and unruly impulses. We appreciate that his African-American neighborhood's sloping streets are like ocean waves, and he is paddling hard to keep from drowning.
His safe harbor is his home, where a calm, largely content atmosphere reigns, at least early on. Troy oversees a three-way chain of tough love and duty with his wife, Rose (Viola Davis in moving, showstopping form), and their sports-minded 17-year-old son Cory (Jovan Adepo).
His exchanges with Rose are generally peacekeeping banter and granting her supervision of his salary, minus a few dollars for a Friday evening flask of liquor. He's more questioning and controlling with Cory, undercutting the ambitious boy's potential to achieve a life surpassing his own. He insists that Cory aim at a safe job and a weekly paycheck, rather than take a risky shot at a higher target. He's also quick to berate his money-borrowing older son Lyons (an urbane yet needy Russell Hornsby), whose visits trigger Troy's scornful side.
Troy is gregarious when talking with his close friend Bono (flawlessly played by Stephen Henderson), sharing jokes and sips from his weekly bottle. Washington's tone in those scenes is affable but guarded.
The film moves deeper as it examines Troy's painful relationship with his violent father, the time he served as a convict and, eventually, his grief and regret over his latest missteps. As family setbacks build to tragic results, the story resembles "Death of a Salesman," tracing the downfall of a man who never received the attention he deserved. When we hear Dinah Washington singing "You Don't Know What Love Is," its feeling is achingly correct.
Washington's direction is clean and straightforward, keeping us mostly to the inside and exterior of the Maxson home in a widescreen form of staged theater. The sets and locations feel exactly like what you would find after riding a time machine back to the Eisenhower era.
The performances are sublime, with Washington, Davis and Henderson returning to roles that earned them Tony nominations in the show's 2010 Broadway revival; Washington and Davis won, as did the show itself. Their return here should bring new national attention to a landmark of profound intellect and heart.
