Image credit: Tyler Fayose
Written by August Wilson
Directed by Daniel Bailey
HOME MCR
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“Some people build fences to keep people out and other people build fences to keep people in.” In August Wilson’s Fences, this deceptively simple observation becomes the beating heart of a devastating exploration of family, fractured dreams and the emotional barriers that can imprison us. In this compelling production at HOME Manchester, the fence is both a physical presence and a potent metaphor for the resentment, regret and unspoken wounds that divide those closest to us. Director Daniel Bailey brings an assured naturalism to Wilson’s richly textured storytelling, allowing the muscular poetry, blues-infused rhythms and glorious musicality of the dialogue to breathe and sing. Anchored in the everyday struggles of 1950s Pittsburgh, this is a fiercely human drama about love, legacy and the crushing weight of unrealised ambition.
The seventh instalment of Wilson’s Pittsburgh Cycle centres on the Maxson family, ruled over by Troy, a former baseball player whose shattered sporting dreams and bitter experiences of racism have calcified into an uncompromising worldview. A provider and patriarch, he is nevertheless a deeply flawed man, confusing authority with affection and emotional armour with strength. The tragic outcome is a searing look at a man who is entrenched in the humdrum slog of the present rooted only in the disappointments of his past, and unable to see his family could have better times ahead.
Ray Fearon gives a superbly nuanced performance, capturing every contradiction of a man capable of both great tenderness and breathtaking cruelty. His Troy commands the backyard like a personal kingdom, dispensing hard-won wisdom alongside home truths that often reveal his own folly. Swaggering, funny, vulnerable and menacing, he shifts effortlessly between charm and intimidation. Crucially, Fearon never excuses Troy’s failings, but allows us to glimpse the wounds beneath them, exposing the uncomfortable truth that those damaged by life can, in turn, inflict profound damage on others.
The supporting performances are every bit as accomplished, with an ensemble whose instinctive chemistry gives the family dynamics real texture and spontaneity. Conversations overlap, tempers fray, humour bubbles up and long-buried grievances find their way to the surface, creating an intoxicating sense of a family history unfolding beyond the confines of the stage. Madeline Appiah is particularly affecting as Rose, bringing warmth, dignity and quiet resilience to a woman whose patience has its limits. Everal A Walsh makes a warmly understated Bono, while Simon-Anthony Rhoden is deeply moving as Gabe, Troy’s traumatised brother, balancing vulnerability with an affecting, fragile humanity.
The unfinished fence that cuts across the backyard becomes an increasingly powerful metaphor for Troy’s need to shut out danger while keeping those closest to him firmly within his grasp. Lily Arnold’s evocative set design wisely dispenses with any white-picket-fence gloss of the American Dream, instead finding poetry in the stripped-back simplicity of the Maxson home. It is a living, breathing space that shifts with the emotional temperature of the drama, drawing us into its intimate world before exposing the passions, tensions and heartbreak simmering beneath its everyday rhythms.
Wilson’s dialogue crackles with humour, rhythm and vernacular poetry, and Bailey wisely allows the writing to speak for itself. There is plenty of laughter, but it comes with a sting in its tail. Beneath the banter simmer weightier questions of race, masculinity, fatherhood, thwarted ambition and the inheritance of disappointment across generations. At nearly three hours, the episodic structure occasionally saps the momentum, with the drama losing some of its grip toward the end. Yet its emotional accumulation is powerful and ultimately compelling. The closing scenes deliver a poignant sense of resolution, with an additional ray of hope in the delightful performance of Kezia Alanna-Ama as the young Reynell.
Ultimately, this is an immensely affecting production that places its faith in the power of Wilson’s writing and the strength of its performances. Captivating, compassionate and beautifully naturalistic, Bailey’s Fences resists easy judgements, allowing its characters to emerge in all their messy, contradictory humanity. The result is a deeply moving portrait of a family struggling to love one another amid the bruising realities of life, and the emotional barriers they build along the way. This production by Headlong is a wonderful reminder of what good theatre can be and may be my favourite production of 2026.
