377 days, blog #168 - A Streetcar Named Desire or how I spent my Saturday evening

I have to say, I didn’t really think what was missing from my theater life was another chance to see A Streetcar Named Desire.  I have some vague recollection of reading it in high school.  I’m not even sure that’s true.  I also have a vague recollection (that I have to verify later this afternoon when I go to the theater and can track down a playbill) that I ran lights for a production of it twenty years ago.  I also have a vague memory of Laurence Olivier taking credit for Vivien Leigh’s brilliance as Blanche… the point at which I stopped reading his autobiography and stopped believing in the brilliance of Laurence Olivier.  The fact that these are vague recollections indicates to me that I appreciate its significance in our American theater canon, but it really isn’t significant to my predilections.

That said, last night I went to see a production of Tennessee Williams’ famous play.  I went mostly entirely because of friends involved.  And let’s face it, theater people, that’s why we go to 2/3 if not 9/10 of the shows we see. And that is a good thing.  It was a good thing last night, because I was pleased with what I had an opportunity to see.

One of my favorite parts of supper club now is the question I pose to my guests about their creative accomplishments.  It inspires me, not only to be creative in my own life but to seek out the completion of these projects when I can.  I guess it is like going to a talkback of a play or reading author’s notes in a book.  I’m not sure if it is better to hear these details before or after a production, but it definitely adds another layer of appreciation while sitting in the audience.  Knowing how much a friend put into her performance of Stella.  Her time, her emotion, and her passion.  It gave an inner burst of hurrah the moment the lights first came up on her in costume moving about the set of her tiny house, as if to say yes, you are here.  Well done for getting to the starting line.

From there, she and the rest of the cast unfolded that story of which I had a vague recollection with enough intrigue to make me glad I didn’t quite remember.  (Although I was able to mouth some lines which is why I suddenly thought, oh yeah I ran lights for this show, didn’t I?).  The characters were vivid without being caricatures (which is especially tough for anyone playing crazy, so major kudos to the young woman who played Blanche).  I was invested in their outcome… and I hoped (even though that recollection wasn’t as vague) that the ending had a little less sadness.

I also remembered that it was long.  The production from 20 years ago was in the summer – before Barre Players had air conditioning.  I remember the sound effects of our thunderstorm being really lame with the real thing happening outside our tin ceiling… and that the play just went on for hours.  Maybe that’s why I’ve avoided it.  I have to say, the one I sat through last night didn’t feel long.  And I say that even with a twitchy back this weekend.  That may be trivial… but really, don’t talk yourself out of this play because you think it is long.

I liked the set. This can be a really elaborate set (and I wish I could remember the one I worked on), but with the furniture and pieces of dressing, the world of a small house in NOLA was established pretty well.   I do wish all the theaters that perform at the Singh would band together and get some sort of flooring to cover up that ugly carpet, but I was able to overlook that distraction with the abstract of windows and walls and furniture.  Yes, one of those walls fell over in a tense scene.  (This cast and crew had a strike from a larger theater and load in to this space all within 24 hours.  That needs to be noted because the instability of the wall was the only blatant hiccup of that whirligig of theatrical let’s put it together madness.)  I’m not going to deny the wall falling made me laugh – laugh because I totally know what that is like (I mean seriously, we’ve ALL been there) and because an actor had a great adlib.  But I love those moments.  The ones that could seriously derail the authenticity of a play, but they don’t.  The mistakes break the illusion for a second, but then they cement the existence of that world in which the actors have invited us as audience.  Because by rolling with those flubs (be they lines or props or missed cues or broken sets), they convince me they believe where they are and who they are enough not to get mired down in what went wrong.  They make it go right.  And so this cast did.  Plus, I smirk again as I write this because I know that cast will always have the story months and years from now when they see each other at another show or someone’s party when they can laugh together and say oh my god, do you remember that time the wall fell over?  That is the glue that sticks us theater people together.

My last note of appreciation for this production is the use of music and dance between the scenes.  I seem to remember that is in the script… and it is supposed to set the backdrop of a sultry southern city during which all this takes place.  I didn’t like all the choices, but I acknowledge I am picky about music in shows.  Music is my gateway into a play’s world as a director.  And some of this didn’t work for me.  That said, I think it was important because it really made me ask myself why… and think about what this show says to me – with my own history that I choose not to remember so clearly.  Maybe this needs some reconsideration and revisiting.  It prompted me to see that I still have a copy of the script (with a bare chested Marlon Brando on the cover) 

and take a look at it this morning.  I think that is an enormous value in theater.  I think it is important for directors to take creative risks and make the audience think.  Not agree, because um… this is art.  But to contemplate the disagreement with a respect of interpretation.  And I’m doing that – but it is only noon the next day, so I haven’t reached a conclusion.

I have one major dislike.  And I wrote about this the other day.  I paid $25 for a ticket.  I’m not cool with paying $20 or more for a play in this area.  But I do it for my friends because (if you aren’t going to click the link and read my other blog), I understand the cost of doing business in the creative world.  I am also starting to understand the cost of charging too much.  This is a dialogue I really hope to have with my theater community, because ultimately it is my wish to build our community and its audience.  We should be allies not adversaries in the business of doing theater.  We should be as appreciative of our loyal audience’s budgets as we hope our audience is of our hard work.

So that’s how I spent my Saturday night.  It was well worth it.  If you would like to check this out, they go on for a matinee in about 60 minutes, but also have three more performances next weekend in Whitinsville.  All the info can be found on the 4th Wall website.