A Raisin in the Sun is based on the Broadway play of the same name, first staged two years before the film itself. Unusually, almost all the actors who played on Broadway are involved here. The play and the film tell about the problems of the not-very-wealthy Chicago African-American family. From the very first minutes, we watch the character of Sidney Poitier, living with his mother, sister, wife, and child in a cramped apartment, which once upon a time earned the blood and sweat of the “big father” of the family, who has already died but remembered so often and so warmly. Everyone is eager to escape from their limited means of living on top of each other.
Hansberry brilliantly adapts his source text for the screen, capturing the simmering tension between family members. Except for a few extraneous but brief scenes, it contains drama within the four walls of the Junior family’s apartment. The heat of the Chicago summer is palpable in the pressure cooker of the condo, sweat drips from Poitier’s increasingly frowning forehead, and the internal location does not give a respite from the hot cruelty of the outside world. However, while the environment exerts its maddening influence, it is in the family itself that Petrie’s film discovers its humanity.
The film touches on a vast number of different problems (the central one of which is still the formation of masculinity and the change in the value system of the protagonist), perhaps the A Raisin in the Sun is even oversaturated with themes, but hardly any of them is inappropriate. The racial prejudices of Chicagoans of the late fifties are shown with ease and satire. John Fiedler wonderfully played the awkward and slippery head of the “Welcome Committee of Neighbors,” who is ready to pay any money so that a black family refuses to move to an area with “hospitable” whites. Stereotypes of African Americans also do not go unnoticed: “Mom, I met a man from Nigeria, today he will come to us… please do not ask him if they wear clothes there in Africa” (A Raisin in the Sun).
Director Daniel Petrie, who received one of the alternative Cannes prizes for this film, managed to create a surprisingly lively portrait of an African-American family in the middle of the century. Comical ones replace the frightening moments here, and the lyrical ones are solemn with fantastic ease. The main actors’ performances â from the matriarch Lina, performed by Claudia McNeil to little Stephen Perry â are imbued with sincerity and nobility. Poitier here, of course, is the main highlight (the name does not lie): he is terrible in anger, exalted in despair, and during his monologue-confession, to his son, it is impossible to hold back tears.
Theatricality often plays to the advantage: the sensations that a colorful musical performance conveys at the end of the first hour are possible only in this kind of theatrical cinema. Nevertheless, the most dramatic, climactic moment is played too picturesquely, stagely, and dramatically rather than realistically. The music used in the film reflects and represents the era in which young people live, the 1950s. Music is also connected to the place where they live – Chicago. Some of the music performed is popular in this region. There are certain scenes in the film would not be so dramatic or emotional if not for the music/sounds involved. The musical sound enhances the emotions of each character, making each scene more dramatic in its way. Sounds and music make the audience’s heart beat faster whenever the situation becomes tense or make them feel depressed when something sad happens. This is what happens when the pace or gait accelerates and slows down. It keeps the audience on edge. Daniel Petrie uses this in many scenes throughout the film. There are moments in the film when the music describes something about a particular character. For example, the music becomes more intense whenever Walter is angry, or whenever he is happy, the music becomes lighter. It helps to portray who the characters are and how they feel. The music only complements the film and helps in the scenes trying to be dramatic.
Actors usually act out scenes well, although, as mentioned earlier, several times, they almost come off as mannerly and not severe and dramatic. Of course, this does not negate the beauty of the actors’ acting for the other two hours of the film. I would especially like to mention Claudia Manil, a theater actress with no significant roles in movies anymore. There is nothing to say about Poitiers – he is beautiful. For most of the film, he rushes from wall to wall, from ceiling to floor, gets drunk, dances on the table, and explodes, unexpectedly reminding Brando and Dean of plastic. Ultimately, what binds each of the characters is their pursuit of dignity, and what separates them is their blindness toward each other in favor of their own. The bittersweet, uncompromising ending of the film may not magically give them everything they want, but it gives them a chance to liberate their dignity.
Works Cited
Petrie, Daniel. A Raisin in the Sun. Columbia Pictures, 1961.