When I walked into the Corpus Playroom on Tuesday afternoon, I didn't expect to find myself most literally walking into a play, with the actors, already in character, interacting with the audience as if we were part of their late 1940s daily poor New Orleans lives. Although perhaps too lively for the latter solemn emotional dynamics that predominate within A Streetcar Named Desire, this was an innovative idea, one that definitely piqued my interest for what was to come. 

Blanche Dubois moves into her sister and her brother-in-law’s apartment for an indeterminate amount of time ensuing misfortune after misfortune befalling upon her. Whilst her real reasons for moving in are concealed at the start of the theatrical piece, the discovering and understanding of her motives in the progression of the plot will display the poignant emotions and unpleasant realities of human relations.

Bethan Davidson’s performance as Blanche Dubois deserves an important mention, as it is virtually spot-on. The incredible versatility and multiplicity of character of most of Tennessee Williams’s lead female characters (Blanche here, as Amanda or Laura would be in “The Glass Menagerie) renders giving a good performance an incredible feat for any actress. And we certainly got that on Tuesday evening. All of the subtleties of such a complicated persona are at all times masterfully portrayed, most notably, in her monologues, which reveal the inner workings and contradictions of the woman’s turbulent psyche. From embodying the frailty and prudence proper of a faded Southern Belle, to representing a jittery, nervous being around individuals as familiar to her as her own sister, Davidson manages to stay in character for the two hours of the duration of the play. Instead of dropping at certain points, however, the execution of the role is maintained at top level by the attention paid to the details. The representation of Blanche’s mannerisms, rubbing her hands, obsessively adjusting her gloves, nervously touching her neck are what truly make a difference and render the performance all the more believable.

Indeed, body language is key to how well the play was set on stage. We find vast amounts of a good use of body language encapsulated outside of Blanche’s trembling voice and melancholic gaze, mainly, in the figure of Stanley Kowalski. Seth Kruger’s interpretation of Stella Dubois’ husband is responsible for energizing an otherwise quite static production and granting it an air of vivacity. His rash and impulsive behavior, perfectly carried out through the unaffected yet blatantly emotional banging of furniture and walls, surprises the audience and snaps them out of the norm, bringing them back to paying close attention to the plot unfolding before their eyes.

The comedic sequences in the play, though short and sporadic, make the sheer solemnity of the play more amenable, and are also primarily led by the figure of Stanley in his unique exchanges with Blanche at the very beginning. The interaction between both characters is played out well to reinforce their antithesis and very opposed mentalities. Max Noble’s Mitchell, whose awkwardness and general cluelessness shines through throughout the duration of the play, shines through in these light-hearted parts, likewise very well expressed by the actor.

Stella (Kate Marston)’s performance, although overshadowed by the prominent roles of Blanche and Stanley, picks up and peaks at the end in her arguments with her husband. Most notably, the striking emotion displayed when it is known that her sister is to be institutionalised compared to her normal behaviour is to blame for the despair and hopelessness felt by audiences at the end of the play.

Where body language does not do the trick, the carefully selected silences- vital in the playwright’s writing to indicate moments of special tension and strain- have not been overlooked, but rather, emphasized where needed be to make the quite speak for itself. The first long silence we encounter, following Blanche’s arrival to her sister’s home, sees Blanche kicking off her façade by concealing her guzzling of liquor, and proves to be one of the best scenes of the production. This great directorial interpretation of the script by fresher Joe Richards proves all the more important at such key points of tense discomfort, unable to be described by words and leaving room for interpretation for the audience to think what they may and reflect about the situation.

The set, just elaborate enough to convey the depravity underlying the characters’ lives, was based on good directorial decisions. The bare white walls behind reinforced the characters’ impoverished situation, the Budweiser bottles, decanter, old-fashioned radio and telephone, well picked out to emphasise the American setting. The actors’ interaction with these parts of the set extended A Streetcar Named Desire’s realistic aura.

Paired with the vintage, slow, wistful music selections, all of the elements combined to make every line, every interaction, every stare into the horizon heavily charged with a tangible aura of mysteriousness, where reality and magic are inextricably linked. The reality and magic of Williams’ writing are successfully embodied in this version of the play; and this is no easy task.