The measure of a successful theatrical adaptation is often how far it can distance itself from the conventions of the stage. The underlying expectation is that untethered from the limitations of sets, the suspension of disbelief, the necessity of projection, the primacy of dialogue, and so on, only then will the play will become a film. But that logic does not explain Mike Nichols’ “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?,” nor does it explain Denzel Washington’s “Fences.”
August Wilson’s play takes place in the family home and yard of Troy Maxson (Denzel Washington), a ’50s-era Pittsburgh patriarch. The concentrated location makes sense logistically for the stage to minimize scenic design costs, but it also fits thematically for a story so immediately concerned with matters of domestic concern. As Troy works through his past shortcomings, his present stagnation and his future worries for his wife Rose (Viola Davis) and children, his blustering and ruminating does not really work anywhere but his house. Opening it up to other locations or breaking up his long, aimless rambling would distill and distort the very essence of “Fences.”
August Wilson is not alive to see how Denzel Washington tended to the script he left behind (though his estate likely saw to his wishes being met), but he would almost certainly be proud to see how the essence of the theatrical experience remained in tact. “Fences” keeps the power in the word and the performance, leaving many important events shaping their current woes and strife unvisualized. We don’t need flashbacks to show us what an expert line reading can tell us, both about the event and the way its ramifications still affect even the smallest of decisions in their lives.
Babak Anvari’s “
“Vicky Cristina Barcelona” was one of the first movies to teach me that it’s entirely possible for characters to go on a journey and end up exactly where they started from, learning nothing. It’s an ending that has really stuck with me over the years, and I always admire filmmakers with the guts to acknowledge a fundamental truth about humans. We don’t always learn, adapt or change. We often times remain stubbornly ourselves.
It’s hard to imagine a time when mass shootings were not a regular part of our national diet as Americans. Though I was shielded from the horrors of Columbine, ever since Virginia Tech, the country feels like it’s been on a treadmill of horrors. We even have a routine that’s so predictable that it can be satirized by 
If you are looking for a droll remake of “A Single Man” featuring a geriatric Swede … then you have very specific tastes, first off. You would also be in luck because that’s essentially what Hannes Holm’s “
My apologies to whichever friend or professor enlightened me with the following observation; I have to give credit because it is not my own. There’s a reason why so many heated, important conversations take place in cars. The automotive space is an inescapable one for its passengers, but the tableau where all seats face forward also allows confrontations to occur with an excuse to avoid eye contact.
Houston Cinema Arts Festival
“We have to understand before we can move on,” states an interview subject early in Ava DuVernay’s documentary “
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