Television: Like Combs, staging lacks greatness

At a time when classic drama on TV is defined by the elimination round on "Survivor," it's a pleasant surprise to see ABC turn over three hours of prime-time real estate on Monday to "A Raisin in the Sun," Lorraine Hansberry's groundbreaking play about alcoholism, bitterness, class, racism and almost everything else that gets in the way of the American dream.

What's even more shocking is that star Sean (Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Puffy) Combs manages to get through the whole production without once slipping on dark glasses or welcoming Nas to the stage. That's not to say that the rap mogul aces the role.

Walter Lee Younger Jr., an angry young man who could go tantrum to tantrum with Stanley Kowalski, is one of theater's juiciest roles, played by Sidney Poitier in the 1959 original stage production and then the 1961 film, both with recent Oscar nominee Ruby Dee. Danny Glover reprised the role for a 1989 TV movie.

Combs has neither the chops nor the charisma of those two actors. It's his popularity, not his acting talent, that made the 2004 stage revival a major Broadway hit and may persuade youngsters whose idea of theater is R. Kelly's "Trapped in the Closet" to at least take a peek at this project. They'll most likely be just fine with Combs' portrayal as a man frustrated by his less-than-glamorous life.

His son sleeps on a couch in the living room. His family has to share one bathroom with two floors of tenants. His sister constantly belittles him. Worst of all, he makes his living driving a rich white man around, a consistent reminder that he hasn't reached greatness.

When his deceased father's insurance check arrives to the tune of $10,000, Younger wants to turn that bonanza into his best chance at glory: opening a neighborhood liquor store. Matters do not go according to plan.

The series of events that lead to his grave disappointment, and then his ultimate salvation, offer plenty of soliloquies about manhood that should require Shakespearean training. Combs takes a much more natural approach, as if he's afraid to let himself go and ruin his cool-cat image, and the result is that some of the scenes that might offer the biggest emotional payoff merely make you shrug.

David Oyelowo, an English actor who specializes in the Bard, is much more passionate and effective in a small, but pivotal part of a Nigerian student wooing Younger's sister and one salivates at the thought of what he would do in the leading role.

It doesn't help Combs that he's working with two excellent stage performers who can speak volumes with a whisper or a gaze. Phylicia Rashad, best known for putting up with Cliff Huxtable's antics on "The Cosby Show," is the family matron struggling to push, connive, shame and bribe her son into maturity and she does it all with such quiet power that, after watching her for a while, you start to feel guilty that you didn't make your bed this morning.

Audra McDonald, in the role of Younger's much-put-upon wife, is equally memorable. In a recent interview in Entertainment Weekly, director Kenny Leon said the actress has eight different ways she can cry. I only counted four in this film, but they were indeed distinctive and devastating.

For the stage production, Rashad got a Tony for best actress, the first time a black woman has ever won in that category. McDonald took home the award for best featured actress, making her grand total four Tonys, an extraordinary feat for someone who's not even 38.

The two might pick up more awards for this version, although Leon doesn't do them many favors. This is only the second movie on the accomplished stage director's résumé, and he makes the unusual choice of cutting away quickly from some of the most dramatic moments: Willie Lee sending a plate of eggs flying through the air, Willie Lee leaping at his sister's date, Momma slapping her insolent daughter across the face. It's almost as if Leon is preserving the most explosive moments for live audiences.

It's no wonder, then, that after watching the TV version, you'll be wishing that you had seen it all unfurl on stage, and with any luck that opportunity will come again. I'd even be eager to see Combs take another crack at it, but not before taking on some less demanding characters and a few ensemble works such as "Much Ado About Nothing." Like Willie Lee Younger, he has the potential; it's the patience that's the question.

njustin@startribune.com • 612-673-7431