I’ve never read this play before today and I’ve still never seen the film – I’m going to assume that makes me the last person in the world to have now read this play and so will not worry that this review will have lots of spoilers. I’ve heard of this play before, of course – I even thought I knew what happened in it from a million or so references I’ve heard about it over the years. I can’t say I really enjoyed it. Parts of it were so heavy-handed that they made me cringe – the blind Mexican woman, for example, calling out ‘flowers for the dead’ was perhaps only forgivable because it was in Spanish, but really... and I found the all-too-convenient music piping up from the local bar increasingly annoying – the problem with reading this play is that I’ve no idea what ‘blue piano’ means, I’ll google it later, I guess. And I found the stage directions nearly laughably detailed. Like this one when Blanche is first introduced, “Her delicate beauty must avoid a strong light. There is something about her uncertain manner, as well as her white clothes, that suggests a moth.” I’m not sure how you might act that – although, I do see that moths need to avoid strong lights.
There is not a single likeable character in this play. There is Blanche DuBois, the white woods, a kind of tragic, fading beauty who hasn’t quite forgiven herself for having killed her angelic husband by telling him how disgusted she was in him over his homosexual affair, conveniently while the other piece of music that plays throughout was playing. This tragic end to her first husband has proven to have driven her into the arms of an endless string of increasingly younger men (ending with a 17 year old student of hers) in an attempt to – what? Retaste her youth? The explanation given in the play is that she is seeking a kind of security. You might think that her life experience to date might speak against this path as the most obvious means of achieving security. The problem is that Blanche suffers from anxiety – relieved only by endlessly long baths, booze and flirting – she is suffering from some kind of mental illness and so is portrayed as self-medicating neurotic. When she first meets her sister’s (Stella, the star) husband (Stanley) she even flirts with him. Except, of course, she finds him beneath her in almost every way, being particularly put off by his crudity and his beating up her sister. He is portrayed as an animal – a kind of sexual and muscular beast – which women, or at least some women, are supposed to find irresistible. This is almost a play contrasting the animal with the civilised – except that the civilised is presented as an illusion, as really only a thin layer of varnish that is all too easily scratched off – as with Blanche, the Southern Belle, whose own life has been brought to the point of near total destruction by her own animal lusts itself shows all too clearly. This is a play full of kettles and pots that are all too ready to call each other black.
Stella has come down in the world by marrying the meat-man, Stanley – but is prepared to put up with a bit of rough treatment as long as the sex afterwards makes it all worthwhile. She comes across as a bit of an air-head, to be honest. She refuses to believe the worst about either Blanche or Stanley – despite the worst being the truth on both occasions. There is also a certain inevitability to Stanley raping Blanche. He has decided she is of low sexual virtue and that she has been insulting him throughout the play has made him ‘need’ to get back at her. Interestingly enough, Stanley is the first to mention his inferior status, in their first meeting he tells Blanche, “I’m afraid I’ll strike you as being the unrefined type.” The second time they talk he makes it clear that he is sexually interested in her. Blanche says, “To interest you a woman would have to – “ and he responds, “Lay … her cards on the table.” So, it is hardly surprising that when Blanche starts to show some interest in Stanley’s friend Steve this leads to Stanley’s extremes of sexual jealousy. As he says himself just before raping her, “We’ve had this date with each other from the beginning!”
This is the second of Williams plays I’ve read, this and The Glass Menagerie – having an intellectually disabled older sister made that play much harder to cope with for me than this one. I still haven’t reviewed that the Menagerie and probably never will now.
So, what with the music (both floating in from the local bar and bouncing around in Blanche’s head) and nearly everyone in the play being a pain and some of the scenes being simply unbelievable (the last scene with the poker game going on as Blanche is being taken to the loony-bin is a case in point), I really can’t say I enjoyed this. I was thinking while I was reading it that perhaps the problem is that the play has become dated and we are now so used to American plays with lots of shouting that this has become a bit ho-hum. Hard to say.