Reviewed by Vlad Dima
Tennesse Williams' play requires an incredible
amount of energy and emotion from the main two characters, Blanche and Stanley,
who ultimately represent the driving force behind the entire production. So it
is not by chance that I begin with the performances of Ricardo Antonio
Chavira
(Stanley) and Gretchen Egolf (Blanche). Chavira exudes the animalistic "quality"
that is demanded to play Stanley, and really captures the physical essence of
the character. But, while it may appear so, Stanley is not unidimensional-there
are layers and layers of conflict, love, pain, and well, sadism, that
characterize him. Chavira projects his anger very well, but maybe falls short
on capturing the other emotions of the character consistently. The iconic
"Stella" shout (and really, do we ever think of anyone else but
Brando at this particular moment?) is actually one of those moments when
everything comes together for the actor, and the audience picks up on a wider
range of emotions.
Maybe
fittingly, since the two characters are antagonistic, Egolf masters perfectly
the complicated intricacies of Blanche. If this Stanley keeps us at the same
intensity level, this Blanche takes us on a wild, emotional journey of ups and
downs, a journey that extends beyond the one that she undertakes in the play.
As we follow her descent into madness in a place ironically named Elysian
Fields, Egolf's Blanche becomes the catalyst that ignites and makes the play
work. Her scenes with Stanley are intense, and she responds with fine nuance to
his brute force. She easily shifts to different registers when facing other
characters, which really helps the solid supporting cast. This is especially
true for Brian Keane, who plays Mitch and holds his own admirably in one of the best
scenes of the play, alongside Blanche.
Even
though this is a play that usually succeeds through superior acting, the
Guthrie and director John Miller-Stephany get all the details right, and put on a
spectacular show. The set (Todd Rosenthal) is magnificent and practical. Throughout the
production, doors and screens are swung shut with loud thumps, which function
as a constant, aural punctuation meant to remind us of the larger picture
thumps: Stella's heartache, Mitch's conflict, or Blanche's madness. I also
particularly enjoyed the spotlights (Peter Mumford, Lighting Designer): a few of
them are placed lower on the stage, which creates a film noir atmosphere, as a
chiaroscuro (albeit in color) type of effect takes shape. The shadows of the characters
are projected on the walls behind, and Stanley's shadow in the drunk scene
echoes that of Orson Welles' Kane. Another wonderful spotlight tracks Blanche
around in the second part of the play. It is a checkered spotlight that traps
her in a virtual prison of light and darkness, obviously foreshadowing her
eventual loss of freedom. Finally, the train that keeps going by the house,
metaphorically merges at one point with Stanley. As he is about to go inside,
he lights up a cigarette and puffs, which is the exact moment when the
compressor of the locomotive goes off, too. And that is the most adequate
metaphor for Stanley, and maybe the play itself: an entity full of raw power,
unstoppable force, but dehumanized, and always moving in a straight line.