Hinging upon the post-World War II transition from conventional elitist values to a more modern, working-class future, Blanche’s sister Stella (Amara Okereke) marks the necessity of this movement. The exchanges between Blanche and her brother-in-law Stanley signal the brutality inherent in this change. As conceptions of dominance switch amongst them, audiences become aware of the dangers of suppressing the animalistic, yet natural, human condition: sexual, primitive, and everything Blanche is attempting to resist.
The antagonism of these cultural and personal clashes are exhibited in the distinct exchanges between white, green, yellow, and blue lighting with the ultimate darkness of the set. From the cold flush of the blue to the single, naked light centre stage, Lighting Designer Howard Harrison perfectly captures Williams’s fascination with light as the traitor to fantasy. Despite Blanche’s insistence that she should stay hidden from the exposed light, Vanderham’s face remains starkly illuminated throughout the performance. Revelling in this ‘deception’, the irony of her situation is familiar only to the audience.
Designer Frankie Bradshaw exacerbates these feelings of vulnerability in the utilisation of the arena stage. While the set can seem monotonous at times, fluctuating feelings of sympathy arise in the audience as you are caught between Stanley and Stella’s domain of desire, and the bathroom in which Blanche attempts to cleanse both body and soul. The motif of separation is all but fragile however; the prop curtain between the two rooms is continually pushed aside as the barriers between Stanley and Blanche disintegrate. As Dunn’s striking portrayal of wrath emerges, Stanley’s contorted face is discernible through the veil. A graphic image, the set design depicts the true brutality inherent in A Streetcar Named Desire.
Most interesting of all, however, is the physical presence of Blanche’s lost lover Alan on the stage throughout. Silent but beautiful, Jack Ofrecio offers a seeming comfort to Blanche as he embraces and worships her trembling body. A mere memory within the original text, Seymour’s interpretive decision offers an astounding and haunting quality to the production. Without it, a more modern sympathy for Blanche may have been lost to scathing, contemporary ideas of mental illness and ‘hysteria’. This retreat to illusion and the past continues until the very end of the performance. While the rest of the cast begin to don more modern day clothing, Blanche remains wearing her traditional 1940s attire, signalling her resistance to a post-war modernity; however unconscious this may be.
Overall, this performance of Tennessee Williams’s Pulitzer Prize- winning play offers new sympathies to the notable Blanche DuBois. From set design to Vanderham and Dunn’s stunning depictions of vulnerability and anger, the audience is engrossed by the play’s seeming exchange between absurdity and brutality. Faithful to both Williams’s vision and more modern sensibilities, this is a must-see performance.
Rating: ★★★★★
A Streetcar Named Desire is playing at the Crucible until March 29th
