I am, as always, procrastinating. Here is a very belated review of A Streetcar which I saw at the Adelaide Festival a while back. I wrote it for uni. Sometimes I actually do work. Just not right now.
Tennessee Williams’ classic 1947 play A Streetcar Named Desire is modernised, transposed and translated in this adaptation by director Krzysztof Warlikowski. In this version, the gradual deterioration of Blanche Dubois (Isabelle Huppert) occurs in modern day France, with the cast trimmed to just five additional characters. This is the one area in which Warlikowski shows any kind of restraint. The additions made are many and varied, from songs to video cameras, and their dramatic success is just as variable.
The conflict between Blanche, her sister Stella and Stella’s husband Stanley occurs in a vast space. Malgorzata Szczèsniak’s set is simultaneously clean, bright and bleak, with a horizontal glass corridor sitting atop a multitude of fluorescently-lit bowling alleys. The corridor is moved down and up stage over the course of the show, with the action occurring inside, in front and even behind it. Inside the corridor itself is where much of the action occurs, and where screens streaming live footage of the actors are placed. This footage, taken alternately by tripod or unobtrusive cameramen, largely features extreme close ups blurred by handheld movement and fuzzy transmission. It highlights both key moments, such as Blanche’s recollection of her husband’s suicide, and intimate moments when Stella or Blanche, alone in the corridor, freshen up and change costume. The former heightens the dramatic effect of the given moment; the latter offers respite, with such costume changes often occurring following a heavy scene, allowing us to feel a little more connected with the characters.
Isabelle Huppert’s Blanche is erratic and energetic, dancing and jumping her way through the story to create an emotional rollercoaster. Her behaviours, such as fixatedly scratching a spot on her arm and almost jogging around the stage in high heels, leave us with no doubt as to her impending misfortune. Unfortunately Warlikowski’s direction confuses her portrayal. The opening sees her seated on a stool in the centre of the corridor, talking whilst eating seemingly uncontrollably – an additional character trait or merely a symbol of her restlessness? It is difficult to tell, especially for those who are unfamiliar with the original story, but it certainly exemplifies the mystifying actions that pepper that show. Nonetheless, Huppert pulls what passion she can from this detached version, and is particularly emotive in the scene where, cowering under the double bed which sits downstage, she recounts her husband’s suicide; but even this moment is tainted by the director’s brash hand, with the husband appearing onstage, bloody face and all.
Florence Thomassin’s Stella is lustful and passionate against Andrzej Chyra’s surly Stanley. There is little chemistry between Chyra and either female lead, their relationships reduced by Warlikowski’s treatment to a fight for control, depicted literally – almost thrust upon us in a further example of misguided symbolism – in the moments following Stanley’s rape of Stella. They sit on the bed, and he draws patterns on her almost naked body, gratuitous nudity highlighted by gratuitous imagery.
Warlikowski’s direction borrows from Brecht’s theories of alienation, creating an often vast distance between the audience and the action through the use of songs. Sung by Eunice, who doubles as narrator of sorts, the songs allow us to reflect on the preceding scenes and relax during an intense production – but they also prevent the kind of emotional association that makes Williams’ original text so engrossing. We are unable to empathise even in key moments such as the climax between Stanley and Blanche, which is followed by Eunice delivering her final song, this time in another foreign language. The song, its language and its almost indecipherable scrolling lyrics which are projected over the stage all raise questions – but none so pressing as the arrival of its ending. As we near the end of a 150 minute production with no interval, enduring an overly long song with dubious relevance is tough.
This is a big name, big budget production, a fact that is reflected in the show’s design and costumes (Huppert is dressed by Yves Saint Laurent and Christian Dior). It is not, however, evident in the surtitles. There are numerous careless spelling and grammar mistakes, frustrating oversights which detract from the action. The translations often do not match the dialogue, the operator moving either too fast or too slow; or frequently halting in apparent confusion, depicting lines which bear no resemblance to what the actors are actually saying before skipping rapidly to the appropriate excerpt. Those with a knowledge of French may be able to follow the drama onstage when the surtitles where completely wrong, but for the Anglophones in the room, especially those who are not familiar with the original text, understanding the story is made needlessly difficult, the glamorous spectacle promised by the set betrayed by the haphazard surtitles.
This is a challenging and interesting production, and it is not for everyone. The necessity of altering Williams’ play into a version such as this is questionable, as is the inclusion of many of its theatrical features, but there are elements which are truly successful. Much of this success rides on Huppert, whose performance binds the show together – but a production should not have to rely on one person to redeem it from its negative qualities. The festival guide states that there “was theatre before Krzysztof Warlikowski – and then there is theatre after Krzysztof Warlikowski” (2012). The fact is, if all theatre was to be like this, there would be a lot of confused audience members and some very unhappy theatregoers.
A Streetcar, directed by Krzysztof Warlikowski and translated by Wajdi Mouawad, plays as part of the 2012 Adelaide Festival from March 14 – 18 at the Festival Theatre. Tickets from $30 at Bass. Show runs for 150 minutes with no interval.
