Tennessee Williams’ haunting classic A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE has returned to New York with fresh wounds and raw nerves, now playing at Brooklyn Academy of Music in a stripped-down London import starring Paul Mescal, the Irish actor whose meteoric rise continues to captivate audiences worldwide. Fresh from commanding the Roman arena in Ridley Scott’s GLADIATOR II, Mescal brings a youthful vitality and magnetic presence to Stanley Kowalski, the role immortalized by Marlon Brando. His performance stands as testament to his remarkable versatility, seamlessly transitioning from epic historical blockbusters to intimate psychological drama with the confidence of an actor far beyond his years.
Rebecca Frecknall’s minimalist production—running a brisk three hours—reduces Williams’ humid New Orleans setting to its bare essentials: a square platform suggesting a boxing ring without ropes, surrounded by darkness. A percussionist perched above the stage punctuates moments of tension and violence like audible manifestations of Blanche’s deteriorating psyche. This stark approach, which might have been electrifying in a smaller venue, sometimes struggles to connect across the expansive Harvey Theater, creating a self-conscious distance that works against the play’s inherent intimacy.
Patsy Ferran’s Blanche DuBois trembles on the edge of sanity throughout, her jittery portrayal emphasizing the character’s fragility and impending psychological collapse rather than lingering in her faded Southern glamour. Unlike other recent productions—the 2009 Sydney production with Cate Blanchett that sold out BAM but never reached Broadway, or the disappointing 2005 and 2012 Broadway revivals with Natasha Richardson and Nicole Ari Parker respectively—this interpretation refuses to indulge in Blanche’s delusions of gentility or invite the audience to share in her fantasies.
Frecknall, who previously divided critics with her Broadway revival of CABARET, opts for stylized movement and percussive punctuation over the dreamy, poetic atmosphere traditionally associated with Williams’ work. The violence feels gratuitous at times, the concept heavy-handed. Yet Mescal’s presence grounds the production, his Stanley representing another impressive credential in a career that has rapidly evolved from indie darling in NORMAL PEOPLE to commanding Hollywood star. As he continues this remarkable trajectory between stage and screen, this STREETCAR ultimately serves as further evidence of Mescal’s extraordinary talent and range, even when the production surrounding him fails to fully realize Williams’ tragic vision of desire and delusion in the American South.