Nothing defines August Wilson's 10-play canon more than Fences. Certainly in the public's view: Fences was--is--the late playwright's most successful play to date, raking in the most at the box office (lots) and at the awards shows. (Four Tonys and a Pulitzer Prize.) Set in segregated 1957, it perfectly encapsulated the roots of black rage, particularly black male rage, and the impotency of such fury, answering Langston Hughes' question about the destiny of dreams deferred: They both fester and explode, leaving behind fetid, toxic waste.

Not that Wilson's worldview was a bleak one. In his plays, there was hope and humor, and love, beaten down, often tortured love, but love, nonetheless. It's just that when it came to depicting the souls of black folks, Wilson liked to keep it real. You could feel the funk, smell the sweat, taste the ham hocks simmering on the stove. And in keeping it real, with Fences, Wilson created one of the great characters of American dramaturgy: Troy Maxson, a big, bitter, beautiful, black man, a supremely flawed mortal who, if it weren't for the difference in skin color, would find much in common with Willie Loman.

So now, 23 years after James Earl Jones first brought Troy Maxson to vigorous life, Denzel Washington has been charged with inhabiting all the ferocity and stalled dreams of Wilson's Pittsburgh garbage man. This is the first Broadway revival of the play, and the combination of these big names--Fences, Wilson, Denzel--has created big buzz, so much so that there's been a run at the box office. Fences, premieres today for a limited, 13-week run, but already, with a week's worth of previews, it pulled in over $700,000. Hopes are high.

And yes, for the most part, this newly reconstituted Fences is worth the price of its very steep admission. (Nearly $300 for premium seats; average paid admission is $111.)

One very good reason to see this production of Fences is to watch Viola Davis in action. Yes, Fences is a man's play, but it takes a strong woman to offset Troy's forceful tyranny--and a strong actress to offset Washington's star wattage. As Rose, Troy's long, long, long-suffering wife, Davis brings it. This is the kind of performance that wins awards: Davis, who won a Tony for her role in Wilson's King Hedley II, has an easy way with his oft-times poetic language. She's warm and loving, earthy and pragmatic, portraying a woman of her time, a time when wives squashed their desires so that their husbands could realize theirs. As Rose says, she "planted" herself in her husband. And when he betrays her, Rose's deferred dreams explode as well. Watching this explosion is, simply put, stunning. She rages; she weeps; she just is. In lesser hands, this would be prime opportunity for scenery chewing. But with Davis, we're just watching a woman destroyed. Temporarily destroyed.

Those who've seen Fences before will remember that, like all of Wilson's plays, it's set in the inner city of his hometown. Troy is a garbage man, yes, but there was a time when he was a baseball player hitting them out of the park with the Negro League. And before that, he was a thief who did time after he killed a man during a botched robbery. Troy's convinced that he shoulda been a contender. "You just came around too early," his friend Bono (played by the wonderful Stephen McKinley Henderson) tells him. But Troy doesn't want to hear that times have changed and that someone named Jackie Robinson is doing just fine playing baseball with the white folks. He's mad at the world, mad at what wasn't, and his rage poisons his relationship with his son, Corey. Corey has a chance to go to college with a football scholarship, but Troy wants him to learn a trade. Keep it safe because there's no way the white man's going to give you a break. (He's got a Booker T. Washington point of view.)

"How come you ain't never liked me?" Corey asks him.