Ryan Matthieu Smith has theatrical vision like no other. He’s directed Trainspotting, Cabaret, The Rocky Horror Show and most recently, A Streetcar Named Desire. He takes on rough, intense content, imbuing it with his own original slant. One detects a certain capaciousness, a sybaritic extravagance brought to the stage to engage and confound us at nearly every turn. Sometimes his vision exceeds his reach (or what’s a heaven for?) but no matter, the submersive experience, the freshness of perception, more than compensates. He explores mankind in all its blinding, chaotic woundedness: genocide, addiction, degeneracy, toxicity, hysteria, martyrdom, persecution and aching inadequacy.
As you entered the Arts Mission Oak Cliff, Wendy Rene’e Searcy’s set design overwhelms with its sprawling, ramshackle, weathered wood depiction of the French Quarter of New Orleans in 1943. Street musicians stir up a jaunty mix of zydeco, jazz and voodoo rhythms that all at once dazzle and portend. A wailing song erupts. Neighbors find their way through the streets and down rickety stairs. Is it any wonder that when Blanche DuBois arrives (erstwhile royalty of the Deep South) that she is discouraged and bewildered? Raucous shouting both friendly and angry. Unabashed gawking at this otherworldly orchid who seems out of place.
Used up and destitute from her mother’s prolonged illness, Blanche has come to stay with her sister Stella, and Stella’s husband, Stanley Kowalski. Their apartment is tiny, and almost immediately, Stanley finds Blanche insufferable. Stella and Stanley do their best to accommodate Blanche. It’s not that she’s arrogant, she just grew up around grace and erudition, qualities not in great demand in The Quarter. Stella came from the same background, but left when she got the itch for the Stanley’s butch mien. The two sisters get along just fine, and Blanche does her best to be a polite guest, until one night when the drinking and poker playing get out of hand. Stanley slaps Stella (who’s expecting a baby) nearly knocking her down. Blanche begins dating Mitch, one of Stanley’s bowling buddies, with a much more tender side than Stanley’s.
In Streetcar, Tennessee Williams pits two gender archetypes against one another. Stella, the elegant Southern Belle, tormented by insanity and humiliation, and Stanley, the virile troglodyte who can be charming (kind of) when he needs to be. Despite the animosity that informs their intersection, Stanley and Blanche share a surprising quality. Their extreme behavior aims to compensate for a profound lack of confidence. If not, why is Stanley hurt when Blanche makes her famous “march of the apes” speech? Why is Blanche so determined to cling to an image of refinement? On some level they both have been damaged (as most of us have) but their strategy is to fight any unwelcome detection.
Tennessee Williams may be one of the most difficult playwrights in the American Theatrical Canon. It’s not always easy to find an actor who can bring Stanley’s unapologetic cockiness to bear, and still manage the charisma. Blanche, on the other hand, is nearly regal. She’s very comfortable with poise and insouciance. But her behavior conceals hysteria; a frenetic demeanor like a perpetual motion machine. Apart from other functions, Stella and Mitch provide a sharp contrast to the Male and Female caricatures that Blanche and Stanley wield in Streetcar’s cosmos. The problem with caricatures (naturally) is that they make lousy role models. They’re not practical, however convincing.
Ryan Matthieu Smith’s production of A Streetcar Named Desire was scintillating, ominous, volatile. Suffused with dark grief. His Stanley slams the furniture every time Blanche pisses him off. [Stanley can’t tell the difference between effervescence and pretentiousness.] His Blanche is possessed of a breathless, chattering case of nerves, like a spirit of air. There are lots of splendid, rich, bold choices. The pervasive suggestion of shadow magic (dolls, candles, incense) gender reversals (cross dressed roles) a run down, somewhat dystopian quality, that makes Blanche’s fate feel all but inevitable. From the moment we were ushered to our seats, we were at Smith’s mercy. If only he’d told us the safe word.
Theatre of North Texas presented A Streetcar Named Desire. Arts Mission Oak Cliff. 410 South Windomere Avenue, Dallas, Texas 75208. (469) 729-9309. www.artsmissionoc.com