Fences
(2016)
(SPOILERS) Well, that was
a play. I’m not suggesting for a moment that all movies need to be sweepingly cinematic
to resonate, but I do think some
semblance of screen parlance tends to be appropriate, to recognize that the
mediums are two different beasts, if you’re to translate one to the other
effectively. Fences may well be a
great play, but it’s a far from superlative movie.
What may be most interesting about it is how this echoes
into the Best Actor Oscar win, and to a lesser extent the Best Supporting Actor
one. Most odds put the race between Denzel and Casey, and both films are admittedly
very much character pieces. But, while Manchester
by the Sea isn’t a film you’d exactly label as virtuoso in terms of cinematic
language, it is very definitely cinema, and the performances are very much the
product of actors rooted in cinema. Everything about Denzel’s adaptation of Fences is rooted in treading the boards,
and the extent of the bone it throws to leaving the theatre is pretty much shooting
in an actual Pennsylvania backyard.
Is this a bad thing? Well, if you love theatre, probably
not. On the other hand, if you love theatre, you’d probably watch the stage
production rather than the movie, given half a chance. James Foley did a fantastic
job transforming Glengarry Glen Ross
into a film, but even there, there are times you feel the tug of its original
form robbing it of the quality of a complete film. Part of that is the Mamet
method, but part of it is broader still; it’s simply the way theatre is often
written, and Fences is written in a
hugely theatrical way. Amadeus is
also, and there’s theatre in the performances, but it’s a hugely cinematic
film, so there’s no mutual exclusivity at play here.
And so, back to the performances. Was Affleck better than
Washington? He gave a more filmic performance, which is to say that an interior
performance is likely to be more persuasive on the big screen than one designed
for a theatre audience. By the same token, I Michelle Williams impact – a
moment or scene often being the way movies exert their strongest influence – in
that scene in Manchester by the Sea is
more powerful than Davis’ more sustained work here. That said, Davis allows for
the cinematic influence in her performance much more than her lead/director.
The themes of Fences,
of regret translating to self-denial and hurting those closest, are old ones,
and August Wilson, in his slow-burn approach (I don’t know how long the play
is, but it doesn’t feel like much was cut), enables an effective revolving of
Washington’s Troy Maxson’s nearest and sometimes dearest as he interacts
through his wife, sons, brother and best friend (Stephen Henderson – also in Manchester by the Sea). But – and I say
this as a philistine who doesn’t take in a lot of theatre – I was very rarely
not in mind of how this reminded me of other works, not least Death of a Salesman, and how it even
ended on a note of the kind of half-baked “This is how plays end” borderline
parody we saw the Coen brothers so acutely satirise in Barton Fink.
Troy’s day-to-day existence revolves around how he perceives
the race barrier held back his baseball career (Rose suggests he was too old to
ever seriously have a chance of making it), and any aspiration anyone else has
that threatens to put his trudge of a life in the shade – as a garbage man –
reveals his overbearing, diminishing demeanour. That much isn’t such scintillating,
but sporadically Fences proves engrossing,
particular when it comes to Troy’s relationship with younger son Cory (Jovan
Adepo, great in The Leftovers and surely
bound for a bright future; he has star written all over him) as he sabotages
his son’s dreams, makes excuses for his cynical treatment of his brain-damaged
brother Gabriel (Mykelti Williamson) – it’s not such a clangingly unsubtle coincidence
that Troy’s tall tales are about dealing with the devil while Gabe’s
confabulations are about calling all to the pearly gates with St Peter – and refuses
to see his musician elder son, Russell Hornsby’s Lyons, play (lest it remind
him of his own failures).
Davis’ might be the best written part here, except when – as
the (screen)play is frequently prone to do – it delivers exposition in the
place of exploring character through interaction (the number of times we stop
and hear a story or backstory). Rose’s dutiful repression by one harping on
about their own repression creates a double bind, and so the revelation of his
infidelity, and her taking the only course available – turning to the church
(the same church responsible for the language Troy uses to justify his
behaviours, in terms of duty and the place of the wife) – is entirely
believable.
It might be that Washington was too close to the material,
too respectful to Wilson (who died in 2005) to turn the picture into something more
suitable to its medium. But hey, a sizeable enough audience has responded to Fences to justify his decision, and it’s
always good to see the actor get his teeth into something meaty, as he too
often rests easy on the laurels of playing iconically-bankable types.
Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.
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