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I must confess that this version of A Raisin in the Sun was the very first that I have watched, including stage shows and tv movies. I have known the basics of the plot – generational conflict, white flight, economic unease, striving for a better life for your family – but had never actually read or seen Lorraine Hansberry’s seminal work.
Like many great works of art, A Raisin in the Sun remains timeless even if the specifics of the plot have aged. Her characters are fully rounded and richly developed on the page, and this is before we even get into the actor’s breathing vital life into them, and her themes throb with anxiety and are filled with nuance. The scars of red-lining, white flight, and shrunken opportunities for black Americans remain relevant topics. The lyrics have changed but the melodies remain the same.
Lena Younger (Claudia McNeil) plans on using her late husband’s life insurance money to put the down payment on a house. Lena’s son, Walter (Sidney Poitier), wants to use the money to open a business and make financial gains for the family, including his ever-supportive wife, Ruth (Ruby Dee). Walter’s sister, Beneatha (Diana Sands), dreams of medical school and wants to use the money to help pay for her college tuition. (Lord, $10,000 could pay for medical school back in 1959? Times have changed)
That’s merely the setup for the rest of the dramatics that goes along intelligently developed and thought out means. Hansberry never descends into shrieking melodrama or anything that feels antithetical to her overall tone and aims of the story. It remains grounded in truth and engaging because these people are so recognizably human and universal in their struggles and dreams.
The smartest decision that director Daniel Petrie made was bringing back the principal cast members from the original Broadway run to repeat their roles. Of course, by this point Poitier was on the rise and aimed squarely at becoming Hollywood’s first above the title black star, Dee had appeared in a handful of films, so it wasn’t like these were players that were unknown to Hollywood’s power structures. A Raisin in the Sun succeeds in the transition from the stage to the screen as strongly as A Streetcar Named Desire, widely considered the best Broadway-to-Hollywood adaptation.
Petrie’s camerawork is smartly unadorned as Raisin depends on its power from simply viewing its actors reciting words and watching where they place the emphasis. If this isn’t the performance Poitier’s film career, then it’s somewhere near the very top as he threatens to explode with barely concealed rage, perspires with desperation, and demonstrates a loose, limber sensuality with Dee that highlights how handsome and physically free he could be as an actor.
But he does perform in a vacuum as every emotional volley he throws out is returned to him by McNeil and Dee. On paper, Dee’s role as a long-suffering and supportive wife can be appear canned, but Dee brings hints of explosive emotional intensity just beneath the surface. While McNeil’s Lena is the equal creation of Poitier’s Walter. She is steady and nurturing, tough but fair, and her ability to alternate between criticism and affection is astounding. She is one of cinema’s best strong, tough moms. Actually, they both are.
None of this is to deny Sands her shine, as her proxy for Hansberry is also strong, but the bulk of the narrative is built around those three with Beneatha clearly in fourth place. This is one of the best acting ensembles assembled. Not a false note or self-conscious choice to be found in the bunch. Hansberry’s words function like thunderous music with the actors as seasoned musicians working in tandem to create a colossal emotional experience. A Raisin in the Sun is a classic that still feels alive and powerful where others have aged into polite appreciation.
