John David Washington was ‘seriously considering’ quitting acting if he wasn’t good in ‘The Piano Lesson’ stage play

John David Washington knows a thing or two about the works of August Wilson thanks to his dad, Oscar-winning actor Denzel Washington, who has taken it upon himself to preserve the legacy of the famed Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright’s works that explore the Black experience in America.

Among those is The Piano Lesson, part of a 10-play collection (which also includes Fences and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom) known as the Century Cycle. First performed in November 1987, the play was staged in 2022 on Broadway, where John David Washington played Boy Willie alongside a cast that also included Samuel L. Jackson, Ray Fisher, and Michael Potts.

All four reprise their roles for the new movie adaptation (streaming now on Netflix), directed by Washington’s brother, Malcolm, produced by Denzel, and executive-produced by his sister, Katia. Boy Willie, along with his friend Lymon (Fisher), makes the long drive from Mississippi to Pittsburgh to try to convince his sister, Berniece (Danielle Deadwyler), to sell the family’s piano so he can use the money to buy land back home to farm. But the piano holds significant sentimental and spiritual value to Berniece because of the sacrifices her family made to obtain it from the Suttons, the white family that owned their enslaved ancestors. But as the siblings continue to argue over the fate of the piano, adorned with carvings of their family members, they are haunted by the ghost of Sutter, whom Berniece thinks Boy Willie killed to buy his land.

Below, Washington recalls the pressure he felt starring in the Broadway production, his reaction to learning his brother wanted to direct the movie adaptation, how his approach to each production was different, and more.

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ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: What do you remember about when Malcolm approached you saying he wanted to make this movie?

JOHN DAVID WASHINGTON: I knew he had been working on the script, but I don’t know if he was ready to tell me he was going to direct it yet, and that’s what the meeting was about. He had a lookbook to show me, and when he said he was going to direct it, I went crazy. In my head, I’m like, you don’t have to show me a no damn lookbook, man. Let’s just go! [Laughs] I’ve been waiting on you to do your first feature for a long time now. But I was ready to be like, “I don’t want to meet, let’s just go.” But then I was like, no, he has a process, so I wanted to respect that. When I read the script, I was like, “Oh, so we’re really going to break a couple of rules here, aren’t we?” In a great way. Which was the point, which is what I wanted. We had an opportunity through genre to float across these whales of truth of the African American experience in this country, which was there through August Wilson’s writing, but also through genre, we can say it in an entertaining way, in a very universal way, because of the family dynamics. So he’s taken a lot of the words out that we say but transcribed them into a visual language that opens up the film in a way that was extraordinary.

Were you always going to be reprising your role or was there a question of maybe this would be a whole new cast?

It was about the play for me. That was the mandate: I wanted to do the play. I wasn’t thinking about no movie because to me, the play was survival: If I can do this, if I survive this, if I can have some success, I can live, and I can do this for a living, this acting thing. If it didn’t go right, I’m not even joking — it’s funny now — but I was seriously considering maybe trying something else. This meant so much to me.

You’d already had some success, though, at that point, but doing the play, you felt a lot of pressure?

This was different. I’ve heard wise people say, OGs say, that theater is the actor’s medium. You can’t get edited into a good performance; you can’t get edited into a bad performance; it’s all you up there for those two-plus hours. And I knew I was standing on the shoulders of giants — Stephen [McKinley] Henderson, Michael Potts, Samuel Jackson — who originated the roles. Viola [Davis] has been up there. James Earl Jones has been up there. Courtney Vance has been up there. We got all these Wilsonians who’ve done this before. So it’s like, I’m up now, and they’re going to know right away, they’re going to call me out. And if I’m not getting the cosign or the love from them, then why am I doing it? And it was this piece specifically.

Unless you’re on a TV show, actors don’t usually get to spend this kind of time with a character, especially as you have across mediums. How has your relationship with Boy Willie evolved?

It’s evolved into a happy sort of ending or happy story for Boy Willie. But I was first preparing for this in 2020, in COVID, and then I found myself picking it up again towards the end of filming on The Creator. I was in Indonesia and walking these volcanoes and starting to learn my lines, and the character I was dealing with then was very depressed; he was like welcoming death in a way. I was preparing it that way, and I realized the parallels with Boy Willie as I was looking at some of these speeches like, this dude is dark, man. But the juxtaposition of that is this peaceful place in Thailand and these peaceful places in Asia where I was learning these lines. It was such an interesting thing. I recorded it, me on top of this active volcano walking around it, running August Wilson’s lines. So it’s like I took the Hill District in Pittsburgh to Indonesia — it was insane. So it stayed the same but evolved within the context of identity, through what I’d been dealing with that I saw in him and myself that were parallel.

How did your performance change or benefit from it being something more cinematic versus stage?

Well, the responsibilities were different. For the movie, I really leaned heavily on behavior. It wasn’t how I was saying the lines as much — that wasn’t as important. On the stage, it was how I was saying these lines and making sure I’m clear; the action needs to be there, too, but every person has to be able to hear me — they pay a lot of money for these tickets. I got to make sure I hit my marks; that’s how it was staged. The film was Cassavetes-style — Faces, Opening Night. It was messy. It was more naturalistic. I got to focus on listening, and listening would dictate my behavior. My intentions were similar from the stage to the film. However, my behavior would change because of the medium, for one, the actors, for two, and the environment that Malcolm created for us.

Considering what you just said, is there a scene or a moment in particular here that you think actually is maybe even better because of the cinematic experience?

I don’t know about better, but for moviegoers, it’s undeniable the connection you have at the end sequence of the exorcising the ghost, Danielle on that piano, and Corey Hawkins calling up the spirits. I’ll never forget that day. Corey started speaking in tongues; that wasn’t in the script, that wasn’t discussed — the spirit just jumped in him and out of him, and he really set the tone to me for that scene. I don’t think the scene would’ve gone that way. I don’t think some of those performances could have been accessed that way if it weren’t for him setting that tone. It was insane what happened. And then, obviously, Danielle just went to a whole other world. The both of them together, they went somewhere else.

In the film, you’re connecting to the behavior — it’s not necessarily what they’re saying. You’re listening to Boy Willie talk at Danielle, all these men talking at Danielle, but the camera’s on her; we’re seeing her perspective, we’re seeing how she’s taking this information. So, in turn, we, the audience, are also listening to what she’s listening to, but we’re looking at her. So, the onus is on the actor, and the film brilliantly depicts and captures Berniece’s perspective.

As I understand it, you were also ad-libbing some. Malcolm said, “Can you feel that? That’s your family, that’s your blood,” which became the tagline, was all you. He was giving you some credit as well for really putting yourself in that space and opening yourself up to what you were feeling. Is that also, I suppose, the benefit of film?

[Laughs] I would’ve never in my lifetime done anything like that on stage. Are you kidding me? My career would’ve been over, even with a good review. You don’t ad-lib Shakespeare, you don’t ad-lib August Wilson. On stage, we talk about selling watermelons to white folks; you get to see it in the movie. And that day was incredible — I was ad-libbing all kinds of stuff. That was one of my favorite days, to be honest. We didn’t use it, but that made me feel [how this] is different from the stage play. We have so much more freedom — let’s go for it.

When I spoke with Malcolm, he said that things “definitely got emotional working with you.” Did you feel that too?

I saw a man. He’s not my little brother. This is a man who was born to do this. I saw a man step into his powers. I was there when everybody witnessed, felt, and discovered his first film; I can say I was there when it’s all said and done; when he has this great career, I can say I was there for the first one. I was seeing this dude just transform into this artist that he always was, but he’s handling it in such a way that … pride isn’t the word. The simplest way to put it is when Morpheus sees Neo watching the codes [in The Matrix], and he’s like, “He’s beginning to believe.” That’s what it was for me. [Laughs]

This film is now going to be part of the Washington family legacy. Why is it such an important and personal piece for all of you?

Well, our producers, Mr. Washington, Todd Black, [my sister, executive producer] Katia Washington, they’ve taken on the task to bring the entire Century Cycle to cinema. There’s an interview on YouTube for the TV movie of The Piano Lesson — Charles Dutton, Alfre Woodard, I believe Courtney Vance — August Wilson says in this interview that more people are going to get to see this now. That’s what he was excited about. So it means everything to me that we’re bringing these things to the theater and to people’s homes all over the world. We got to play it in the U.K., and what people connected to was incredible, people in Colorado that looked like you — race wasn’t even a thing, where you’re from wasn’t a thing. It was more about what you could relate to, the family dynamics, whose side are you on. It wasn’t necessarily about the African American experience; you weren’t excluded. You can definitely relate to these issues as far as the heirloom. I take great pride in being able to be a part of that and share it with everybody.

Speaking of heirlooms, is there a piano in your life, a thing that has significant meaning to you?

I’m wearing it now, my uncle Woodson’s chain. I dedicated this performance to him. He was a man that could cut your grass, fix anything in your house. He was a man’s man, but he also knew how to communicate and tell you he loved you, gave you a hug, cried whenever anything happened, watched soap operas. He was an all-you-can-do, all-you-can-be man. He was incredible. I got this [chain when he passed].

And [I got] the ability of storytelling, the artistry that I’m in. My parents are artists. My mom — before she was a mother, before she was a wife — she has her master’s in music, Julliard, she’s been on Broadway, off-Broadway. My father, obviously you know what he does. So they’re artists first, and they’ve given me the love for it. I took it from them, and I love it and it’s my identity.