Court’s ‘Streetcar’

Press, 3 April 1989, Page 8

Court’s ‘Streetcar’

“A Streetcar Named Desire,” by Tennessee Williams, directed by Elric Hooper for the Court Theatre. At the Court One from Saturday, April 1. Running time: 8 p.m. to 11 p.m. Reviewed by John Farnsworth. Ironically, on the experience of the first night, this production could easily be retitled “A Streetcar Named Chastity.” For all that, it is an intriguing, watchable but uneven interpretation of Williams’s great battle between the spiritual and the profane. In this, his second major play, Williams conjures up the steamy, languid, deep American South. It is powerfully recaptured by Tony Geddes’s elaborate set, lit in Mike McKenzie’s soft, misty blue tints, and by Pamela Maling’s sweat-stained costuming, and even by the actors’ glistening make-up. It is here, in the Louisiana slums, that Blanche du Bois’s evasive, genteel world finally runs aground. She finds her sister, Stella, newly and deliriously married to a brutally crude Polish American, Stanley Kowalski, and living in a shabby, two-room apartment. Here, the yawning contrasts between Blanche’s mannered, complex, feminine artifice and Kowalski’s blunt, lustful working-class realities collide in a series of tense, sometimes violent confrontations. Yet in fact, she conceals just the same sexual impulse that Stanley so openly flaunts in order to protect her past, her reputation and her developing romance with Mitch.

At least, that is what ought to happen, as the impressively full programme notes suggest. In reality, Hooper’s evocative approach is undermined for several important reasons. One is that the working-class realities of the setting never really come to life. The action looks too contrived, and the actors seem to move in a world of make-

believe. Stanley’s wife-bashing for example, and the poker players’ response are unconvincing.

Second, the play’s eroticism is, simply, absent. Significantly, Stanley and Stella’s one big sexual clinch is literally put on hold as they cling together in a frozen tableau on the bed. Besides that, no-one seems, well, genuinely interested in sex. The impression is strengthened by a sweaty-looking cast playing the first section at a haste that half suggests they are trying to keep their minds on other things.

On top of that, there are casting problems. Kevin Smith’s performance as Stanley, is still overshadowed by the memory of Marlon Brando’s formidable film role and can produce no alternative. He exchanges sheer animal power for insolence and is just too reasonable for the sub-human, ape-like character the script calls for. And Geraldine Brophy’s tough, prosaic Stella makes them look like an ancient married couple rather than panting newly-weds. Under these circumstances, the play refocuses and becomes a study of Blanche’s disintegration. As a result, the best scenes are those portraying the uncertain sensitive relationship between Cathy Downes, as Blanche, and Paul Barrett’s Mitch. •

Throughout, Downes gives a bravura performance at the extremes of her emotional range, but one which turns the languorous misty Blanche into a jumpy, intricate and hypocritical character. This is a production packed with problems and faults, but, which finds, nonetheless three hours of story-telling mostly flying by. The play may be far too contrived and, in the first half, far too hasty, yet it still holds its audience. As such, it is still a Streetcar worth catching; just take note of where it is taking you.