In December 1947, the New Yorker‘s theatre reviewer, Wolcott Gibbs, reviewed the opening night of a new play called A Streetcar named Desire.

“A fine and deeply disturbing play, almost faultless in the physical details of its production and the quality of its acting … a brilliant, implacable play,” Gibbs, a man not known for indulging in superlatives, wrote.  

His review came to mind during the opening night of the Court Theatre’s new production of A Streetcar named Desire, simply for the reason that he could have been commenting on director Melanie Luckman’s approach to the play, helped by an outstanding cast all of whom performed this challenging and daunting play with sensitivity and intelligence. [More]

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From its debut performance in 1947, Tennessee Williams’ startling and insightful drama has provoked debate about the often painful co-existence of whatever we define as reality on one hand and, on the other, the desire for something finer and more beautiful. Each reinterpretation of the original will meet the perceptions of its audience half way and each has the superb material of Williams’ poetic vision and vivid characters to draw on. The current Court Theatre production sets its own stamp on the play, without generating for me that best of thrills, the electric hair on the back of the neck sensation.  

The immediate creation of a faded and run down New Orleans apartment, all within the comfortable world of an audience, is the challenge for set designer and properties manager, Julian Southgate. With authentic detail everywhere and classic Southern blues softly in the background, we are safely transported. On the ironwork stairs to the upper dwelling, local women perch and natter. It is a seedy but solid world, going about its business.

Into this world steps Blanche DuBois, sweetly bewildered at the address and primly out of place in her fresh costume and pretty shoes. She has come to stay with Stella, her sister, while she takes leave from her teaching position in another town. Only Stella’s husband, mechanic Stanley Kowalski, has not been filled in. Inevitably there will be tensions as the triangle thus formed is wrenched by events and revelations, leading to a desperate and tragic climax for the pale figure of those first moments.

Blanche turns out to have complex motives and needs, not to mention a history which has led her far from the genteel plantation upbringing she shared with Stella. Stanley, in contrast, has a brutal simplicity about his approach to life, where ultimately the power of the fist can settle any dispute. Between them, Stella, a slave to love for both, tries to keep some sort of peace as she waits for the birth of her child.

As Stanley learns more about Blanche and her history, his own ways of dealing with the situation become more and more desperate and cruel, including revealing the past Blanche is trying so hard to escape, thus setting up her final retreat from reality.

Motif and symbol underscore the text at every turn. Blanche responds to ugliness in any form by covering it up or shielding it from the searching light of fact. The production elements (Giles Tanner for lighting and Tony De Goldi for costume) work to this purpose though, for me, the ravaged fragility of Blanche is not well served, for example, by her often worn silky scarlet robe. She does at some stage refer to herself as a tarantula and it may be that this is the intended link, highlighting her duplicity.

Sound design from Matt Short includes music to cover transitions between scenes which, to our eyes, used to the fluidity of film, may seem to interrupt the rhythm and onward drive of the piece. I am not able to justify the drums which sometimes replace blues or jazz for this purpose but again, such is the richness of Williams’ integrating text and action that I may be missing a clue.

As the sensation of the production reaches almost melodramatic intensity towards the end, I ask myself if the text is allowed its space.

Melanie Luckman’s cast serves her well, however, with strong performances from Tom Eason as Mitch (would-be suitor for Blanche), Hillary Moulder as neighbour Eunice, Chris Tempest as the violent and conflicted Stanley and Amy Straker as a resolute and loyal Stella. The whole is lifted into significant theatre by Claire Dougan as the refugee Blanche. She brings consistency and clarity to a demanding role, itself based on shadowy evasion.

As a fresh exploration of what the text has to offer in 2020, when a lack of general tolerance and when violence – especially towards women – seem indeed to be going the way of the brutes, the production gives pause for thought: always a good thing.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer