Rebecca Frecknall Makes a Little Temporary Magic: Reviewing A Streetcar Named Desire's Outstanding West End Transfer

★★★★ | In the depleted landscape of post-depression New Orleans, Rebecca Frecknall’s A Streetcar Named Desire feels ritualistic, almost bestial. Blanche Dubois, the last woman standing from a lost era of chivalry and gentlemen, has fled from a shady past into a harsh new way of life under the roof of her sister, Stella, and her brutish husband Stanley. Patsy Ferran (Blanche), Anjana Vasan (Stella), and Paul Mescal (Stanley) – accompanied by a formidable ensemble that juggles the minor roles – all stalk the stage, circling, crouching, prowling. This take on Tennessee Williams’ classic play (Almeida Theatre, Noel Coward Theatre) of simmering tensions is stripped back, impressionistic, and visceral.

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While previous productions of Streetcar have been highly mechanised – the Young Vic built the Elysian Fields house (within which the events of this play are set) on a turning stage, and doors, walls, and curtains separated the action – under Frecknall’s guidance, these boundaries are imagined. The back wall is exposed brick, and a square of wooden panels represents the two-room apartment. Outside of this panelled square, the actors are off-stage, and we watch them on the sidelines changing their clothes and preparing props for the next scene. Frecknall highlights that these are actors playing roles, for all except Blanche, who never leaves the spotlight nor lets her performance slip. 

The company of A Streetcar Named Desire. Photo Crdit: Marc Brenner

Metatheatrically, our attention is drawn to the performativity of our characters’ lives: how the men in the play – spearheaded by Stanley – must constantly perform to adhere to the modern standard of masculinity; how Stella must perform to reconcile two warring halves, the past she shares with Blanche and her future with Stanley. Most importantly, Blanche performs to survive, as her true identity is too much at odds with the matter-of-fact modern world to withstand scrutiny. It is an illuminating and inspired staging choice by Frecknall.

Aside from the sparse set, we are also exposed to the elements, with rain pouring down on the characters from above during some of the action sequences. These staging decisions tether us to Blanche’s psyche in an acute way. It is as though the other characters can see the world – this new, promising, modern America, with its concrete foundations and protective boundaries – while Blanche cannot. Patsy Ferran expertly depicts Blanche free-falling through this strange and barren landscape, where no one puts their arms out to catch her.

Paul Mescal (as Stanley) and Patsy Ferran (as Blanche) in A Streetcar Named Desire. Photo Credit: Marc Brenner

The sound design is ingenious, trading the sombre piano of Williams’ script for a stirring, tribal drumbeat. It accompanies the play’s tenser moments, reminding us of the primal urges that haunt Blanche but invigorate the others. Often, the music is just a figment of Blanche’s psyche, audible only to her; it is an exquisite reflection of her mental state.

Dialogue is mixed with scenes of interpretive dance and fluid movements, constantly reminding us of the play’s carnal drive. Williams’ Mexican Flower Woman is realised as an interpretive dancer, pursuing Blanche across the stage, proffering her “flowers for the dead". Gabriela Garcia’s performance in this role is striking, twirling, crawling, and singing hypnotically as the physical manifestation of the death that stalks Blanche.

Merle Hense’s innovative use of costume portrays Blanche as the bourgeoisie ghost, with a wardrobe comprising a number of gauzy dresses that compound her insubstantial presence. While Williams wrote Blanche in whites and pastels, perhaps these metaphors were a little too on the nose for Hensel. She makes the inspired choice of some gaudy florals to emphasise how Blanche clings to femininity and vitality, though the sheerness of the tulle betrays the façade.

Paul Mescal (as Stanley) and Patsy Ferran (as Blanche) in A Streetcar Named Desire. Photo Credit: Marc Brenner

Ferran does not miss a beat. Her Blanche starts to crack from the beginning, and she has perfected the trembling voice and fretful movements of a fragile woman trying to construct an identity over crumbling foundations. Her speeches are vaulting, extraordinary outbursts – perhaps a little too quick for naturality or for all their sentiment to truly land – but the psychological strain behind them is undeniably convincing. Mescal is formidable as Stanley, his outbursts like whipcracks that startle the entire audience. Even when silent, his seething, imposing figure darkens the stage. His movements have an animalistic quality that inspires discomfort. Vasan’s Stella is measured perfectly in her passion and her passivity, and her final, ineffectual tears as the play wanes are gut-wrenching.

This re-adaptation through dance, movement, and spectacle works perfectly for a refreshed version of A Streetcar Named Desire. The play’s dealings with the psychological and the performative are powerfully enhanced through its symbolic designs, and its animalism comes to light through impeccable dance and movement sequences. Rebecca Frecknall’s vision is upheld by outstanding performances in both lead and ensemble roles, leaving an unsettling impact.

★★★★

A Streetcar Named Desire premiered at the Almeida Theatre on 17 December, 2022, and transferred into the West End's Noel Cowards Theatre from 3 February, 2025, to 23 February, 2025. It will now play at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, New York City, from February 28 to April 6.