August Wilson’s poetic command of language and storytelling is nothing short of legendary within the theatre world. Since Wilson’s death in 2005, Denzel Washington spearheaded two adaptations—Fences (2016) and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (2020) — in an effort to preserve Wilson’s legacy and bring his work to new audiences.
When it comes to those adaptations, it felt as if they were trying to honor the pieces’ stage roots. They feel like we are watching a play as these actors inhabit the minimal sets and deliver Wilson’s powerful words.
Enter director and co-writer Malcolm Washington with his adaptation of The Piano Lesson (2024).
The Piano Lesson is the story of siblings Berniece (Danielle Deadwyler) and Boy Willie Charles (John David Washington) as they battle whether to sell their family’s prized heirloom piano adorned with carvings of their family during enslavement. Boy Willie aims to sell the piano to buy the land where his ancestors were previously enslaved. Berniece remains adamant that the piano stays in the Doaker Charles (Samuel L. Jackson) household despite the fact that she no longer plays and her daughter doesn’t touch it.
Both siblings are haunted by their family’s dark history and the generational trauma passed down to them. But both have very different ways of moving forward. Boy Willie wants to let go of the past and use it to start his life. Berniece cannot let it go but doesn’t ever acknowledge or embrace it. Meanwhile, James Sutter (Jay Peterson), the man who owned the land where their family was enslaved, remains top of mind for both—Willie wants to buy his land and Berniece insists she sees his ghost lurking in the home.
The Piano Lesson operates in many ways as a ghost story and Washington opts to lean in and embrace the supernatural. In doing so, he imbues the piece with an ethereal and cinematic vision that we haven’t seen in previous Wilson adaptations. He employs a visual vocabulary for many elements that are not achievable on stage. Whenever the ghost of Sutter lurks, the floors flood (Sutter died by falling down a well), a chilly blue light fills the home, and the framing feels suffocating like a horror movie.
The film feels most assured and confident when embracing the supernatural; however, when we pull back and focus on interpersonal relationships, the film wobbles a bit, specifically in the second act. Most of the dynamic visual swings Washington employed early in the movie are suddenly gone. The camera grows more stagnant, losing the electricity we saw in act one. It feels as if there was uncertainty when it came to blocking and shooting these scenes.
The last thirty minutes, however, pull the movie from its lull with Washington firing on all cylinders. He builds this story toward a literal and metaphorical exorcism dripping with gorgeous and visceral visuals that had audience members at my screening breathless and moved to tears. The culmination is well worth the uneven road to get there as Washington simply, yet powerfully illustrates how some ghosts are there to remind us of our power rather than steal our power. This approach and conclusion amplify the themes of legacy and generational trauma as our characters grapple with how to honor the past without allowing it to define their future. Embracing that which haunts us doesn’t mean succumbing to it.
John David Washington is solidly charming as Boy Willie, but it feels like we are watching a stage performance. John David is delivering Willie’s defiant charm to the back of the house and the performance remains big and brash for the entire two-hour runtime. That’s not to say he’s bad by any means. But the performance does start to feel a bit one-note until we get to that final act and Willie cracks open.
Samuel L. Jackson is given very little to do as Doaker Charles. His presence is powerful as the de facto father figure of the family and, when Jackson is given his moments, he makes them count with a beautifully internal performance. Unfortunately, Doaker is mostly relegated to reacting to the story unfolding in front of him. Ray Fisher and Corey Hawkins, though limited in screen time, mold characters that serve mostly comedic relief into well-rounded humans you miss terribly when they leave.
The real star of the show is Danielle Deadwyler who continues to solidify herself as one of the finest performers of her generation. Her Berniece functions as the beating heart of the piece as she works through the haunting trauma. Deadwyler conveys so much pain in simple glances; you can feel the anguish pulsating from her pupils especially when Berniece is trying to put on a good face for her family. She balances the internal and external needs of the character with surgical precision. Deadwyler is a performer who knows when to embrace the quiet and when to crack the character wide open. If she’s not at least nominated for an Oscar come next spring, it will be a (second) egregious snub.
During the Q&A at the Chicago International Film Festival, Malcolm Washington talked about balancing the reverence for August Wilson’s work and infusing his own style and vision into the piece. He stated that he was talking to his father about when he played Malcolm X, saying, “[Denzel] didn’t want to mimic Malcolm…. That wasn’t the objective…but to open up himself to the spirit and try to channel that spirit.” When adapting the play, Washington’s intention was to embody the spirit of the piece first and foremost.
While it’s not a perfect film, the spirit manages to permeate The Piano Lesson. The intention, love, and care for the story radiates off the screen as we watch a family take their pain and turn it into something to celebrate. The final note is one of promise and potential, which feels fitting for Malcolm Washington. While certainly not a perfect film, The Piano Lesson brims with promise and potential from an exciting new cinematic voice.
Review Courtesy of Adam Patla
Image Credit to Netflix