Liv Ullmann's "Streetcar Named Desire'

"I wish I could make a movie about this whole experience "“ what it means for a 70-year-old woman from the far, far north of the world and this actress in her mid-30s from the far, far south, meeting to work on Tennessee Williams."

So spoke Liv Ullmann, the venerable Norwegian stage and screen actress (in an interview in American Theatre magazine), about her current and unusual collaboration as director of the Australian actress, Cate Blanchett, which recently resulted in a stunning production of Williams's immortal A Streetcar Named Desire at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.

While most recent productions of Streetcar are dominated by the colorful carnival world of New Orleans— vibrant, exotic, decadent and often distracting— this Streetcar is surprisingly stark and spare, drawing the audience into the pulsating vortex of the immortal classic: the charismatic character of Blanche herself.

Energy, drive and ambition

One could write paragraphs about Blanchett's transporting performance. This is an actress known for her incredible energy, drive and ambition. (She juggles a thriving film career with the co-artistic direction of a dynamic young Australian world-touring theater company, where she also performs. She's also the mother of three young sons.) In her interpretation of Blanche, Blanchett appears to be channeling the spirit not only of Blanche but also of the author himself, with all that passion, intensity, flamboyance, humanity, humor and pain.

The production opens with a tableau of the vulnerable Blanche reminiscent of Liv Ullmann's own emotionally naked performance in Ingmar Bergman's 1973 film, Scenes from a Marriage. From that opening moment to the play's close, the director's spotlight remains fixed on Blanchett's Blanche, dressed in delicate pastels, playing the full range of Williams's immortal creation"“ from prudish to vampish, from fragile to feline, from ethereal to earthy— now a butterfly, now a tigress, now a broken-winged bird.

A crazed bird soaring

The story of Blanche's descent into madness"“ a faded and fallen Southern belle who is fleeing from a ruined past— is played in this production more as an "ascent" to madness, a crazed bird soaring from the cruel world into the blinding light of unthinking and unfeeling (a flight that her creator, Williams, would ultimately take, too). Ullmann takes care to keep all production elements out of Blanchett's way, giving her full range to fly about the stage like an exotic, wounded, caged bird.

The fine ensemble cast surrounds and supports her"“ even the vigorous portrayal of Stanley Kowalski, played ably by the Australian actor Joel Edgerton, cannot steal her focus. A bare stage— with only the rudiments of sister Stella's shabby New Orleans apartment, where Blanche has fatefully sought refuge from the pursuing Furies of her past— allows her to shine.

The dominant scene element is a large steamer trunk, sitting center stage, containing the contents of Blanche's damaged life, into which she dips for one costume after another, donning them like painful memories with a crescendoing desperation. She does it with an aching grace; it's a breathtaking, riveting, unforgettable performance.

Women directing women

But the ultimate credit goes to this rare and admirable collaboration. (I'm also reminded of other eminent women director/actress teams today— for example, Deborah Warner and Fiona Shaw and their 11 triumphs, including Euripides's Medea and Beckett's Happy Days, both at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in recent years). In this happy first-time collaboration between Ullmann and Blanchett, it's clear that it takes a great actress to direct a great actress.

But there's more to it than that. Knowing Ullmann's track record as one of the most sensitive, perceptive actresses of our time, I got the sense that Ullmann didn't direct Blanchett but rather had the sense to get out of her way— guiding her, enabling her to conjure up the spirit of this immortal character on her own.

"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers," says Blanche, driven to madness, as she's led away by the doctor at the play's end. In this production, director Ullmann and actress Blanchett have wisely depended on one another, with beautiful results. I felt I was watching Tennessee Williams's soul incarnate, morphed into a wounded woman, ascending to madness. All the more reason to hope for this unforgettable production's rumored return (to Broadway) this fall.♦


To read a response, click here.