Paul Mescal roars onto London stage in gripping new Streetcar Named Desire
★★★★☆
The Almeida’s production of Tennessee Williams’ steamy southern gothic A Streetcar Named Desire was one of the most hotly anticipated plays of 2022, with Normal People star Paul Mescal lending some zeitgeist-capturing sex appeal to this sad tale of fantasy, identity and mental illness.
But on the eve of opening, lead actor Lydia Wilson picked up an injury and was forced to pull out, resulting in a string of cancelled shows and the hasty casting of a new Blanche DuBois. In came Patsy Ferran, one of the most talented stage actors around and one who I wouldn’t in a million years have thought to cast as the jaded southern belle.
The result is a singular version of Streetcar with an interpretation of the tragic central character that’s unlike any I’ve seen before. Staged in the round, director Rebecca Frecknall’s retelling is stylised and slick. The action plays out on a virtually empty stage and is accompanied by a live drummer, interpretive dance and a genuinely spectacular Louisiana rainstorm.
Ferran specialises in playing broken little birds and her Blanche is true to form. From the moment she arrives at her sister’s squalid New Orleans apartment she’s barely afloat in an ocean of anxiety. Even her flirting feels dulled, far less weaponised than in most portrayals of Blanche. It’s reactive rather than active, a spark from a fire long since reduced to embers.
Paul Mescal plays Stanley as a thug, a menace, the kind of man you pray you don’t end up having “banter” with at a bar
Paul Mescal, playing Blanche’s abusive brother in Law Stanley, is the fiery yin to this bleak yang. He’s a force of nature, a thug, a menace, the kind of man you pray you don’t end up having “banter” with at a bar. While Ferran’s Blanche feels like she’s physically retreating into herself, Stanley is a beast of a man, muscles straining from beneath his workman’s slacks and sleeveless t-shirt. His unpredictability is terrifying, with a Begbie-esque quality to Mescal’s performance. He doesn’t speak so much as roar, every inch the “ape” described by Blanche.
This is a Streetcar in which the themes of mental illness and toxic masculinity are shoved to the fore from the get go, taking place in a world where oration comes a distant second to brute force. There are some stylistic flourishes I could have done without, not least the little segments of interpretive dance in which the ghost of Blanche’s childhood sweetheart wheels across the stage before folding into a funny little crouch like he’s cradling a watermelon.
But this doesn’t overshadow an inspired take on this most wonderful of plays, not quite a version for the ages but certainly a welcome reminder that a smart director and talented cast can make even a text as well trodden as this feel brand new.
A Streetcar Named Desire plays at the Almeida Theatre until 4 February
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