Tennessee Williams‘s great A Streetcar Named Desire (at the Guthrie through August 29, guthrietheater.org) smolders with the heat of a sultry New Orleans summer. The heavy scent of flowers (“Flores para los muertos”) mixed with the smell of
Stacia Rice as Stella; Ricardo Antonio Chavira as Stanley; Gretchen Egolf as Blanche. Photo by T. Michael Erickson.
cooking meat, spicy Mexican street food, cheap beer, diesel fumes and, of course, the sweet funk of sweaty love-making. Blanche DuBois swoops down on her sister Stella’s flat which she shares, famously, with her rough and sexy husband, Stanley Kowalski. Blanche sends long tendrils of eroticism, fantasy, heart-breaking anger, scary southern charm around each character. Her ultimate collapse (“I’ll be buried at sea, in an ocean as blue as my first lover’s eyes.”) will take your breath away. This is exquisite playwriting – not a false note anywhere.
The Guthrie offers up a competent if somewhat antiseptic production. Todd Rosenthal‘s set creates an effective slummy atmosphere though it’s clumsily laid out (darn that awkward bed). But the actors are too perfectly coiffed and their costumes (by Mathew J. LeFebvre) too brand new, too pressed, too nice-looking. The jazzy transitional dumbshows are overused and detract from the individual scenes. All in all the play doesn’t develop the ferocious erotic power that it might.
This complaint aside, I’m happy to report that the acting, especially that of the men, is first rate. Williams has written Mitch brilliantly and Brian Keane‘s performance is spot-on, with Mitch’s sweetness balanced perfectly by his anger and by his anguish at the imminent death of his mother. His raw emotion at the end is very moving. The best performance in the play.
As Stanley, Ricardo Antonio Chavira is grinningly unassuming (a strength), raw, charming, his sudden explosions of violence chillingly effective. Stacia Rice surprises as Stella, giving a sensual and forceful performance. The famous “Stella!” scene, in which Stanley grovels while Stella regally descends the twisting staircase, thrills.  Gretchen Egolf‘s Blanche takes over the apartment with soft and eerie authority. Director John Miller-Stephany creates some nifty flashback effects and it gives Egolf’s work genuine substance.
The last scene – beautifully written, intelligently staged, gorgeously acted (with some potent work from Raye Birk and Beth Gilleland in the small but vital roles of the Doctor and Nurse) – is worth the price of admission.
A Streetcar Named Desire is a true American masterpiece –and the perfect summertime play. If you’ve never seen it, well, the Guthrie herewith provides you a lovely air-conditioned opportunity. Take it.
Recommended.
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