


Long-held moments of tension and shock land with real weight because they are so fully earned by the passion that has preceded them. Frecknall harnesses all that to build tension which she paces to perfection. And with more rapid speech rhythms galvanizing everything, there are huge gains in punch and power. Accents are unusually secure and no-one falls into the phony, languorous “Southern” trap. That’s embedded in the way everyone speaks. And with nothing in the way to obscure that, intent becomes thrillingly paramount. Here the cast focuses, not on display – of character or moment – but on the relationships between one another. Instead of being a directorial conceit, her approach frees everything from displays of anecdotal acting, which can typically bedevil Williams productions - the kind that illustrate everything by, say, over-indicating heat via spray-on sweat or waving handkerchiefs. Yet, enhanced by Lee Curran’s cunning lighting, all the vital, fierce claustrophobia is communicated. Only when strictly essential, chairs and props (Blanche’s trunk, the radio) are handed over by actors prowling round the rim of the suitably cramped stage. Instead, heralding her entire approach, Frecknall opens the play in an expressionist whirlwind of fraught, choreographed action on a bare, raised, in-the-round stage, topped off by a percussionist (Tom Penn), who is perched above and intermittently orchestrates and punctuates the proceedings. Williams’s carefully detailed, literal two-room apartment is never shown. With Patsy Ferran and Paul Mescal in incandescent form, she brings the classic roaring back to electrifying life. But director Rebecca Frecknall’s hypnotic production goes for broke, slinging out almost all of Williams’ stage directions and simultaneously delivering both. I want magic!” Blanche’s famously desperate cry holds the key to most approaches to “ A Streetcar Named Desire.” Productions of Tennessee Williams’ masterpiece tend to chose one or the other: overemphasizing the sweat and grit of life with the Kowalskis or slavishly obeying Williams’s instructions to deliver Blanche’s tragic, hope-filled reverie.
