A Eulogy for August Wilson

A Eulogy for August Wilson
by Dileep Rao

Playwright AUGUST WILSON, dead at 60.

August Wilson has died at the somewhat early age of 60. Far too early in the scope of the American Theatre that needed and still needs him. Mr. Wilson emerged, seemingly whole cloth, from the blue with his first play Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. His writing gave voice to a minority long ignored in plain sight in the dramatic arts of this country.

African Americans playwrights have come and gone, many with lasting achievements, from Lorraine Hansbury to James Baldwin and Amriri Baraka. And though it is useless in many ways to compare artists of this scope and excellence, one can't help but be floored by the titanic achievements of Mr. Wilson. His ten-play cycle to African American life in the twentieth century, a play per decade, stands as powerfully a testament to the richness of this often hidden culture as it is the power of drama.

Mr. Wilson's plays were variously received over the years, almost all making it to Broadway (with his untimely death, I'm sure they will all soon have been performed there). But if at times his plays sold slowly, or his plays were seen as 'another August Wilson play', his death will startle us into remembering what a treasure he was, sometimes neglected because we were used to him. His plays Fences and The Piano Lesson both won the Pulitzer Prize, but Joe Turner's Come and Gone probably stands as his finest work. Choosing amongst Mr. Wilson's works for the finest is rather like choosing between Rembrandts—there is an embarrassment of riches

His ear was tuned to 'The Hill', a poor section of Pittsburgh he grew up in and loved but could no longer live in as he grew older. His use of language captured with authenticity his character's plights, hopes, dreams and their place in the flow of American life. It is this last item that puts Wilson apart. He was unafraid to tackle the central issue of the American experience, one that is often for our convenience either ignored or with embarrassment worshipped without dialogue—race. He investigated and deconstructed African American life as a central avenue of American life. His central premise was that African Americans live a different life because of the relationship between past and continuing white racism, fueling a culture that has grown in that shadow.

Mr. Wilson's themes were always easily consigned by many as 'black issues' but they were centrally American ideas: places of belonging, the quest for betterment, the shame of failure, the power and rancor of prejudice and the possibility always offered by love. His plays have always been shockingly well-written (if at times, for his lordly stature, in need of cuts for length), with language unparalleled on the American stage since the days of Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams. There were times when his cantankerous personal nature and his views on race caused controversy (he famously called for a separate black theatre movement and debated Robert Brustein on the subject in 1997 in New York) and he was at times politically blunt. He would often point out that he was singled out because of his subject matter for particular scrutiny. Such debate is utterly beside the point; Mr. Wilson's work was that of a titan of the stage, shining a light with profound vision and skill into the deepest waters of the American experience.

August Wilson's death is a loss for all Americans. His life's work, I suspect, will suddenly become profusely produced. If that is macabre, and in some ways commercial, so be it. An author never had so much to say that was so true and said it so well over so many plays. His ten plays will stand as one of the finest achievements in the American theater and literature. He is already missed.

Dileep can be reached at dileep@babblog.com.