CAPSULE: Fences (2016, Dir. Denzel Washington)

Adapted by playwright August Wilson from his own play, Fences sits strangely comfortably in the nether region between theatre and cinema. It is comfortable in that it is surprisingly satisfied in its stagey pomposity, proudly pronouncing its refusal to let go of its proscenium beginnings. Strange in that its actorly trappings never allow it to be the film it needs to be.

Then, apparently, this was always the aim. Denzel Washington, who directs himself and the bulk of the original cast of the 2010 Broadway run, wanted a record of the work. I can only say a filmed version of the play (with the immediacy of live performance and a little more air between the cast and the camera) would probably be more impressive that the film version that has eventuated. But be that as it may, let's treat any misgivings re the film's cinematic merits as moot.

Let me take issue with the play instead. Fences is a another misguided attempt to lionise an abuser as some kind of flawed paragon of manhood. Washington's salt of the earth rubbish collector tightly controls and emotionally oppresses his wife (Viola Davis) and son (Jovan Adepo), seemingly because he is unable to accept that the world (1950s Pittsburgh) has begun to open up for hopeful African Americans.

Now, flawed characters are all well and good, and Washington's performance of this beast is laudable (even through the stagey mouthfuls of Wilsons' "screen"play) but the film should work against him in some manner. Washington (under his director's cap) does not, leaving this giant, violent, egotistical, philandering, pompous, familial despot to enter the toxic masculinity hall of fame.

Allowing him to do so perpetuates the misbegotten concept that men will be men and that their worth is inherent. It sets up cycles that see plays like this get written and films like this get made from them. It lays the foundation for performances as stunning as Davis' here to be undercut because they ultimately work as mouthpieces for the compromised author, bestowing greatness on men despite their long suffering revolts. And they template what it is to be a man, teaching young boys they way they should raise their own sons once they've pushed though their patriarchal adversity.

Films like this aren't helping anyone.

★★

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