Like his weathered, old, wooden big-city house, Troy Maxson is stressed out. Death always seems to him ready for a confrontation. Years back, he'd become a near-pro baseball player in prison. As an ex-con African-American, his time to hit the big leagues hadn't come. It later passed him by. Damned if he's going to let his boy Cory play football in high school, even if that might lead him to college. He wouldn't have a chance at sports unless twice as good as white players. For "niggers" like Troy in the 1950s, a clean job like one at the A&P -- not like his hauling garbage -- is the only way up.
To get his way about Cory, Troy's ready to fight him and go against Rose, the wife he otherwise loves. Doesn't he bring her his weekly pay and talk her up to his workmate and pal Bono in their Friday night rituals of talk and drink? After all, he admits she's the "best thing that ever happened" to him. Much better than the previous liaison that produced son Lyons, who lives off his girlfriend. Lyons won't take any job but playing a gig, yet dresses to the nines and comes regularly in his striped suit jacket and spectator shoes to borrow money from Troy. Troy sees everyone and everything as a responsibility. Is it any wonder he's soon slinking off to escape it with (unseen) Alberta? Why doesn't he realize that, like the fence he's been building around the house "for Rose," he's been putting up barriers between himself and family? It's not long before his best friend too avoids him, pretending Troy's promotion to a driver has separated the men. He drives Cory away too. Violently.
Though Troy continues to try to fence out Death, he has to confront Rose with a baby, Reynel, after Alberta dies birthing her. She accepts "the innocent" one but rejects Troy. Fences will fall only after his death.
As bitter Troy, Derek Jefferson often seems larger than life, fitting for a tragic hero whose flaw is self-absorption. Charming as he is at the start in his dealings with friend and wife, however, Jefferson soon sticks pretty much to a single note of controlling anger. Jeff Cange's Cory, on the other hand, is nuanced in his reactions -- by turns normal, brash, ambitious, defiant, deceptive, disgusted, rejecting. He's worth saving from his father. Different but of interest is Charles Lattimore's slick Lyons, who mellows to the point that he's likeable despite having delved into petty crime.
In Dionndra Kinsey's Rose can clearly be seen the young woman who was smitten, the faithful wife who works to make Troy's house a home, the disappointed lady who mothers all of his children. Nate Jacobs' Gabe effectively trumpets -- figuratively and in reality -- dreams of being in heaven like his namesake angel. Shell-shocked in World War II, Gabe's received benefits that helped Troy get the house but now prefers to rent a room elsewhere. Affable Bono is so wonderfully portrayed by Michael Kinsey that he seems not to be acting.
In her brief appearance as young Reynel, Mi'Kayla Fedd also assumes her role without stage-child mannerisms.
Rightly stressing the play's realism, director Jim Weaver elicits uniformly serious performances. Except for Jefferson's bordering-on-overwhelming Troy, Weaver has the cast acting as if in ensemble. Musical bridges between scenes underscore the action to follow, often with an emphasis on lyrics as well as mood. The production fittingly celebrates WTBB's fifth anniversary.
