It’s a play known for one of the most iconic moments in acting history, but what’s probably most remarkable about Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire is its impressive and often intense timeliness.
The Santa Maria Civic Theatre is currently staging a revival of the 1947 classic, featuring the story of doomed heorine Blanche DuBois (Kelly Nichols). Blanche is a fragile woman trying to navigate a vicious and often violent world of men who both simultaneously demand her sexual congress and sadistically reject her when she obliges or asserts any agency over her own body or sexuality. The constant cycle of lust and cruelty has left Blanche, already weary from a long line of familial deaths and the loss of her family home, primed to take the worst of abuse from her malicious and barbaric brother-in-law Stanley Kowalski (Josh Cornell). Stanley is married to Blanche’s sister, Stella (Stephanie Gray), a woman so blinded by her intense sexual attraction to Stanley that she can no longer see him for what he is.
The play also features Mitch (Jarrod Zinn), one of Stanley’s friends, a wolf in sheep’s clothing who appears to be a kind and good gentleman but who is just another in a long string of men who see Blanche only for what she can give them. Eunice (Krystal Kirk) and Steve (Thomas Brown) live upstairs from the Kowalskis and mimic the same abusive patterns peppered with heated sexual encounters.
Williams’ play is a classic because it’s a masterwork at disassembling the social strata affixed to sexual desire and masculine brutality. Stella is content to live out her days repeating the same cycle of abuse and lust as their neighbors above. She sees Stanley as something special, something important, when really he’s just another thug who beats up on women and who happens to look great in a muscle shirt.
Blanche’s arrival throws an immediate wrench into their sedated and sadistic cycle, by forcing Stella to confront that, as she puts it, “What you are talking about is brutal desire—just—desire! The name of that rattle-trap street-car that bangs through the quarter, up one old narrow street and down another.” Blanche, who has secrets of her own that are ready to explode, knows this distinction and is herself both liberated and imprisoned by it. The violent and painfully inevitable ending of the play allows the audience to see just what Stella is willing to trade off in order to save the lies she tells herself about Stanley.
The material is, unquestionably, perfect, and with every iteration it’s up to the actors to find the meaty soul of Williams’ characters. Stanley is a brute of a man, and Williams wastes no time in making his savagery crystal clear (the first time he’s introduced in the script, he is described as literally carrying a blood-soaked package of meat, which he throws at his wife). He is remembered for his daunting physicality. The choice to cast Cornell is interesting, because he isn’t as massive or physically intimidating as his other male co-stars. Cornell’s direction with the character is smart—his Stanley is more weasley and snide; something more sinister and deliberate in his actions becomes apparent.
I wondered what it would have been like to switch some of the casting around (perhaps Zinn, who cuts an imposing figure on stage, could have matched some of the more physical expectations of Stanley), but Cornell’s take holds up well. Also, Zinn is magnetic with Blanche in some of the more demanding scenes, as he unleashes his inner Stanley.
It’s the women who drive the movement of this play, as they make their own choices in how to navigate Stanley’s violence. Nichols is especially genius, tackling one of the most difficult roles in theater history. It’s very easy to turn Blanche into a cartoon of “oh-fiddle-dee-dee” Southern anachronisms, but Nichols knows that the heart of Blanche isn’t a fine white lace glove, it’s a tormented mind and a body aching for the primal lust she’s also deeply terrified of. Nichols smartly uses her costuming and body to balance demureness with the aching sexuality of Blanche and, best of all, she understands Williams’ words. I found myself several times closing my eyes and just listening to the pure poetic beauty of her delivery.
Gray is a staunch contender next to her. There is also a sadism in Stella, although one that never quite gets to the surface. In the end, Stella opts to not believe her sister (even though we, the audience, know it’s a deliberate choice, and Stella really does know what Stanley did). Gray delivers a certain look here and there both to Stanley and to Blanche that conveys much more than her calm exterior.
This is a tough play to put on, and SMCT packs a lot in a tight, intimate setting. Every little detail is perfect—the costumes, the props, the lighting, the blocking and movement of the actors, the sets, and the music. Make no mistake, this is a very intense play, and you should be ready to watch tough violent scenes that are physically jarring. SMCT doesn’t hold back or temper any of the potency in Williams’ masterwork; in fact, the production forces the audience to witness the true meaning of brutality, like Mitch forcing Blanche into the light. For that and many reasons, the play is a must-see.
Arts and Lifestyle Writer Rebecca Rose is a delicate Southern belle. Contact her at rrose@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Jan 31 – Feb 7, 2019.