Written by Tennessee Williams

Adapted and Directed by Elizabeth Newman

Review by Dominic Corr

Tickets from £10.00

Reigniting the noxious atmosphere of Tennessee Williams’ masterpiece, A Streetcar Named Desire, the choking heat of New Orleans, once awakened in Elizabeth Newman’s 2023 adaptation for the Pitlochry Festival Theatre, now brings the intensity, brutality, and the kindness of strangers, to Edinburgh at the Lyceum Theatre. One of Theatre’s paramount tales – retold, remoulded, reinterpreted time and again, here Newman retains all of what made Street Car a world-defining success and magnifies the role of Blanche DuBois, the daughter of a wealthy family, brought down to the brink of collapse and spurned to the edges of society, and her one desperate play to find salvation in the aptly named Elysium Fields with her younger sister.

For those who saw the production in Pitlochry, Emily James’ iconic set design returns – continuing its rotational wheel with a spiral staircase in the centre, separating the two flats occupied by Blanche’s sister Stella and husband Stanley and their upstairs neighbours Eunice and *name. Its impact is lifted effectively with Jeanine Bryne’s lighting design, which cascades the stage in a permanent, sickly glow. Turning the emeralds, cobalt, and rusted blacks honed into the set into stand-out features. On the Lyceum stage, the silhouettes and shadow work here are all the more prominent against the older venue’s walls and backings, making the imposing nature of reality a more foreboding presence ready to break Blanche down, her sister, a worried and kindly figure. Stanley, a monstrous, wide-shouldered presence in the background. All while some incredibly effective, mentally torturous sound effects mingle and distort to drive home Blanche’s fragile mental state.

A significant part of Newman’s success undoubtedly lay in the hands of Kirsty Stuart in one of Theatre’s most coveted roles, Blanche DuBois. A southern belle, brazen and disillusioned, with a measure for everyone in the room – often to her fault and, soon, her peril. Stuart returns in a career-defining performance, precisely what they need to be, a fragile paper moon afloat (for now) on an endless ocean. But Stuart’s Blanche is neither delusional nor folly; they have an acuteness in comprehension of the dire straits she is in and the fact that, despite her beauty, age cannot be held off. The range of fractured poise in Stuart’s performance matches their award-nominated

It may have only been one year since Newman’s adaptation debuted to audiences, but the sinister nature of Stanley, who performed admirably with sharp cruelty by Matthew Trevannion, has become even more penetrating in its relevance. In 2024, this is a Stanley who might be given a Podcast, a platform to spread their misogyny for profit. Clever, despite Blanche’s harsh and prejudiced words and views, this Stanley may physically emulate the brutish ape, Newman’s movement direction utilising an abstract and transformative use of Trevannion’s body, the intelligence in how they twist the knife and manipulate the room – physically as well as mentally – is strikingly performed.

The most agonisingly recognisable element is the childlike desperation Trevannion clings to Stella like a simpering child, utilising his gaslighting nature of forgiveness to the fullest. The snivelling, sorrowful act is enough to cause whiplash for Nalini Chetty’s Stella, who retains their powerfully resolute presence – but that damned human nature in giving into Stanley’s whispered words and promises, causing the audience to beg her to run as far as she can, but to understand her return. And though the show benefits wildly from this trio of performances, Newman puts faith into the ensemble roles, chiefly that of Keith MacPherson’s broad-shouldered and simpering Mitch and a fiery and brazen Eunice (Deidre Davis), who is one of the few to find steady footing against Trevannion’s immediate, forceful presence.

Refreshingly well-constructed yet straightforward, like a lemon coke with chipped ice on a New Orleans evening, Newman’s production remains a definitive version of Streetcar. Newman commands, controls, and comprehends Williams’ original in each hand. In one hand – a mirror reflecting America’s obnoxious self-obsession and bragging whilst hiding the historical poverty and abuse of the working and lower class with false hopes and ‘dreams’. In the other hand, a breath-taking trio of leading performances makes this a show to remember and not to be missed.

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