John David Washington and Danielle Deadwyler: ‘When are Black people not in dire straits?’

John David Washington wants me to know: he comes in peace. “I don’t have smoke with nobody,” he says. “Sometimes fire, but only when it’s stoked.” Sitting next to him, his colleague Danielle Deadwyler is on the defensive, interrupting: “And the only smoke I have is sage!” For a split second, it seems things could get awkward. Then, immediate laughter. The American actors have become accustomed to ribbing each other like this, getting in plenty of practice while making their new film, The Piano Lesson, based on the play by August Wilson.

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Though not a household name in the UK, Wilson (1945-2005) is one of the great American playwrights. He’s best known for The Pittsburgh Cycle, 10 plays that chronicle the Black American experience through the 20th century. The Piano Lesson – which won Wilson the Pulitzer Prize for drama in 1990 – is the third of the plays to be adapted into film, following Fences (another Pulitzer winner in 1987, it also took best play at the Tonys) and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom.

The Piano Lesson is a particularly soul-stirring, tender adaptation, less stagey than its predecessors, with Deadwyler’s performance a standout in a universally solid cast. It follows two siblings who are fighting over a family heirloom. Set in 1936, just after the Great Depression, it asks: is legacy inherited or made? And when a family’s history is filled with the trauma of slavery, how can they move on? Though the set up is heavy, the story is fully rounded, with humour, romance, song and optimism.

Berniece (Deadwyler) and Boy Willie (Washington, transferring from the 2022 Broadway revival) lost their father, Charles, when they were young. He was killed by the descendant of their family’s slave owner, after he stole from them a piano carved with the faces of his ancestors. Their mother spent her remaining years polishing the instrument with her tears, never escaping its shadow. The piano represents a connection with those who came before.

It’s “an altar, a spiritual connectivity”, says Deadwyler. For this reason, Berniece keeps it close. Her life is somewhat stilted: widowed, she’s living with an uncle, Doaker (Samuel L Jackson). But now, Boy Willie has hatched a plan to sell the tainted heirloom and to use the funds to buy the slave owners’ land, freeing the family of their past to build a better future. His burning desire for progress and mobility, and Berniece’s fear of losing touch with her past, will strike a chord with many today. 

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The Piano Lesson is a family affair in many ways: directed by Washington’s brother Malcolm, executive produced by their sister Katia, and produced by their father, Denzel, who has dedicated himself to bringing all 10 Pittsburgh plays to screen. “Proud doesn’t even scratch the surface,” Washington says of his brother. “His is a beautiful mind,” adds Deadwyler. “And that kinship [between us] has flourished.” And as the actors explained, getting the opportunity to retell this story, gave them the opportunity to draw from their own lines of history.

Big Issue: The film is based on the play by August Wilson. How has his work impacted you as people and as actors?

Danielle Deadwyler: I was introduced to August’s work in my childhood; I’ve seen it in various productions, from Broadway to the Alliance Theatre in Atlanta. It’s part of my theatrical rearing, my DNA. He was a cultural, spiritual, intellectual man who has a reverence for Black American life and bleeds it into his work. And I identify with every inch of it: the language, the challenges, the familial and social problems that are continuous to this day. His plays are lessons in how to navigate through these ills and woes. And so, to have this experience has been enriching, a balm of sorts.

John David Washington: There’s universality to his storytelling that speaks to the diaspora of the African experience, and our relationship to being brought over to the USA. There’s a cultural familiarity. Every N word is properly placed, his words are snapshots of real experiences. There’s a connectivity that is so available, no matter your station in life. It’s relatable for scholars and people in prison alike. Kendrick Lamar talks about that too; he was making his music for people in prison. And I think August is the same.

DD: Well it’s hip-hop, right?

JDW: It’s poetry.

DD: That’s the same thing. [Both erupt into laughter.]

JDW: I do wanna say though, the exchanges you see on screen between us, as brother and sister, at the core of it is love. And for us to be able to go there, love and respect had to be there. It was easier to go to those places because of that foundation. These characters, they have their trauma over what they’ve experienced with their parents, and they just haven’t talked about it properly. 

We’re so far removed from that time and place, but the characters, and how that trauma has impacted their behaviour, feels so recognisable. Is that something you’ve seen first-hand too?

DD: Of course. I see it in the manifestation of my life, having the opportunities and experiences that I have had, compared to those that my grandmother had. Reckoning with my ability to go to college or grad school when my grandparents only went to third or eighth grade. My grandmother never got on an aeroplane. So it’s all these parallels, blood parallels but also social, cultural and educational parallels. There’s an unparallel to do with privilege, And yet you’re still tied.

JDW: I relate it to a lot of what Boy Willie talks about. He just wants to live free. That freedom represents being able to do what he loves, which is to be on the farm. He wants to take what was passed down, from his father and grandfather, and cultivate it into generational wealth. Personally, what I want to do in life is act, make art. And my parents are artists, I learned about being an artist through them. Seeing my grandparents, in North Carolina, roasting peanuts and telling stories, different accents, stuff like that. That was performance, and that has been passed down to me.

DD: That’s a beautiful image. I have the same thing, really beautiful memories with my grandparents. I remember, everybody had to play grandpa at checkers. He whooped everybody’s ass, and my grandmother was just sitting there proud. It was just joyful. And you might not hear the words “I love you”, but you hear I love you in that togetherness, and that understanding of community and history is there. And you’ve got these images around you, that speak to who was there before you. History is always present, but it is not always spoken.

The film asks what do we do with our history, our trauma. Do we keep it close or use it as a springboard to something else. How did you unpack that, and do you think gender plays a part in the very different responses your characters have?

DD: It’s a tough one. I think about making the choice: to exchange what is familially rooted and has a visceral value for capital. I would never want to do that. But also, if you are in dire straits, that’s kind of what it is for.

JDW: To provide a means of living.

DD: Yeah, literally to provide a means of living, if you are in dire straits. But when are Black people not necessarily in dire straits?

JDW: Even if they’re living good?

DD: Yeah. August grew up with a single mother. That was a rich relationship, and he has a reverence and respect for it. I think he reveals a certain rich quality of agency that Berniece has in being the single woman and pushing against all these masculine voices, this early-20th century hetero-patriarchy. And yet she is a strong voice. And I think the beauty of what Malcolm does is reveal all of the other layers of who she is: the intimacies, the desire, the memory, the softness that she has in her relationships. You get to see all of these qualities of who she is as a woman, and not the singularity of whatever Black womanhood strength is.

JDW: Boy Willie has abandonment issues. He was raised by a lot of women, Berniece helped to raise him. There’s a respect there, even though he’s provoking her. She symbolises strength to him, and that plays into their dynamic. And it speaks to the brilliance of August Wilson, being able to capture these moments that we can relate to. It’s a magic trick.

The Piano Lesson is in cinemas now and will be available on Netflix on 22 November

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