(seen at the afternoon performance on 21st January 2023)
Tennessee Williams wrote about mental health long before we progressed beyond “sane”, “mad”, “Bedlam” and other unhelpful labels. Personal experiences - his own, and that of his sister - produced Blanche DuBois, a woman desperately in need of all the care modern society might offer.
Arguably, the point of William’s play is to keep us guessing until the final reveal. Is DuBois an expert player of people, a harmless fantasist or is there far more going on, beyond our understanding? The greatest productions, perhaps Benedict Andrews’s Young Vic triumph with Gillian Anderson, found that balance precisely.
Any subsequent London production has a difficult task avoiding imitation and finding something new to add. Rebecca Frecknall here tries an entirely different approach with extraordinarily variable results.
A bare wood on bricks diamond of a stage (Madeline Girling) with an over-enthusiastic rain machine and simple grid of lights (Lee Curran) has actors placing and removing the odd chair and cola bottle but not much more. A rather brilliantly done bath, and some trashily attractive outfits (Merle Hensel) are fun, but the spotlight literally at times focuses emphasis on characters speaking - without the distraction of the Young Vic’s renowned 33 and a third speed event.
This is where the problems begin. Blanche is a huge character inhabiting a vast world of her own creation in which as much space as possible is required to bounce around between a pinball collection of real and imaginary family and friends. Confined always to static conversations the distracting personality animation is restrained and her cover is thus blown all too soon.
In these relentless intimate moments, Patsy Ferran as Blanche must find new angles to demonstrate the degree of her disturbances, rather than building on clues scattered throughout the scenes. Fortunately Ferran is more than up to the task, curbing her natural levity in favour of a quite striking sensuality infused with calculating teenage innocence.
Sister Stella (Anjana Vasan) is stable by comparison, knowing her sibling’s faults and tragically sandwiched between them and those of husband Stanley (Paul Mescal). Mescal is greedy as he is brutal yet not top-dog within his community - a touch hinting more broadly than usual at the roots of his behaviour; stage-holding performances from the pair.
Strong work from Janet Etuck as upstairs neighbour Eunice is worthy of comment, a scene of domestic violence almost unwatchable – not because of the action itself, but due to poor stage blocking rendering it invisible for some in central stalls seats.
In short, director Frecknall runs her concept to extremes. Drum solos, symbolic dancers and two prolonged clumsy interludes in the second half rip apart the idea that Blanche is a mind adrift on the sea of reality by taking away the anchor-point of reality itself.
From claustrophobic to unreality is a strange and peculiar journey for an audience, particularly building towards the climax of the piece. Fortunately a cast this strong manage to hold on to the script as written and deliver if not an entirely desirable street car than certainly one with elements to covert.
4 stars.
Photo credit: Marc Brenner. Used by kind permission.