In 1959, Lorraine Hansberry's "A Raisin in the Sun" opened on Broadway,
the first play ever by an African American woman to do so. (The title
comes from Langston Hughes' poem "Harlem": "What happens to a dream
deferred? / Does it dry up / like a raisin in the sun?") Its revival in
2004 represented another historical landmark, of a sort -- the stage
debut of Sean Combs, the hip-hop tycoon alternately known as Puffy,
Diddy and Puff Daddy. That production, or a version of it, has been filmed for television,
with Combs as executive producer and the principal cast intact.
(Director Kenny Leon is back as well.) John Stamos is a new,
TV-friendly addition, but the film comes with ample television cred.
Phylicia Rashad was on "The Cosby Show," and Audra McDonald is on
"Private Practice," although Rashad, who won a Tony for this role --
the first African American to win best lead actress in a play -- has
lately transferred her affections to the stage. And McDonald is herself
a four-time Tony winner. When it opened, "A Raisin in the Sun" was a contemporary story meant to
dramatize a turning point in black consciousness, a picture of "old
Negroes" versus "new Negroes," and attitudes about social mobility and
racial pride, different aspects of which are exemplified and argued
over by the Younger family of Chicago's South Side. Hansberry addressed
her text to the past, present and future, but in 2008, it's a period
piece, a play about the way black people lived 50 years ago. It still
has value, nevertheless, as a picture of human relations, the
embodiment of a moment in history, and for its craft and its energy.Paris Qualles' teleplay is not a strict translation of Hansberry's
original -- "based on" is how the credits read. The play itself has
been both streamlined and expanded -- "opened up," as plays usually are
when moved to the screen, to take the players out of the one or two
rooms that onstage might stand for a whole world. And yet that physical
constriction is part of what makes theater exciting, and the best parts
of this film are the most "theatrical" and contained, where the
quasi-athletic interplay of actors bouncing off one another in a small
space is most palpable. You can see why Rashad and McDonald got their
Tonys. The catalytic event here is the imminent arrival of a $10,000 life
insurance check, coming to Lena Younger (Rashad) after the death of her
husband. Her son, Walter Lee (Combs) -- who lives with her, along with
his sister, Beneatha (Tony-nominated Saana Lathan), wife Ruth
(McDonald) and their son -- is counting on getting a piece of that
money to invest in a liquor store. He is a man of big dreams but
limited imagination. There would be no reason to assume Combs couldn't act simply
because of his day job. It does, however, take a certain bravado, or a
lack of sense, for an amateur to step into what is not only a difficult
part to pull off, but also one that was originated by Sidney Poitier
(onstage and in the 1961 film, for which Hansberry wrote the
screenplay). That is running before you can walk. Combs does a fair enough job hitting his marks, and he has successfully
made himself into a working-class man of the middle 20th century; there
is no trace of his own fabulous life in his portrayal of Walter Lee,
but there are no overtones in his performance, no intermediate shades
-- it's all primary colors. It's impossible not to notice that he works
at a lower skill level than his costars, who support but also eclipse
him. He seems merely petulant in a role that requires us to feel him
half-mad and twisted up inside -- "You're damn right I'm bitter," he
says, "I'm a volcano, I'm a giant, a giant surrounded by ants" -- and
the weight of the play shifts to the women who put up with him, each of
whom he resents for one thing or another -- not supporting him
sufficiently well or, in the case of his sister, who wants to be a
doctor, getting the support he feels he deserves. SOURCE OF THIS STORY
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