Stanley Kowalski: from Page to Performance
How do you react to the character
of Stanley Kowalski? Chances are that if you know Elia Kazan’s 1951 film
version of A Streetcar Named Desire,
or even if you have merely encountered publicity shots and stills from the
film, you view will be coloured by Marlon Brando’s interpretation of the role.
This is hardly surprising as all drama is, in the words of one critic, ‘a
collaborative activity’ between, among others, dramatists, directors and actors
(Shiach, p.55). A play is never just words on a page, it is written to be
staged. Nevertheless, some critics have been surprised by Brando’s charismatic
rendering of Stanley,
arguing that there is too great a gap between page and performance. Brando’s Stanley, they say, is too engaging, too ‘sensitive (Griffin, p.75). The
audience identifies too strongly with Stanley’s
distrust of Blanche, with consequence for their response to the film as a
whole.
What sort of consequences? Any
reading of the play prompts all kinds of difficult questions. Is Stanley a brutal monster
or a pragmatic survivor? Is Mitch a beneficiary of Blanche’s ‘temporary magic’
or, as Stanley
claims, simply a victim of her ‘lies’? If Stanley
is played as being sensitive these questions resolve themselves fairly
straightforwardly. What may be lost, however, is the thought-provoking
ambiguity of William’s original play. Do the critics have a point? Does the
play provoke a more ambivalent response towards Stanley than the film?
Brando and Stanley
It can be an intriguing exercise
to compare the Marlon Brando version with the presentation of Stanley in the play, and then to speculate
why certain changes were made. In fact, the film offers plenty of evidence of a
coarse, aggressive Stanley.
For example, he is heard – though not seen – beating up Stella, he eats meat
with his bare hands, and his first shown, in a change to the play, at the
centre of a violent ‘ruckus’.
Willams, who wrote the screenplay,
skillfully sets this commotion in the context of the bowling alley, thus
linking Stanley’s
aggression to his highly competitive nature. We may compare the similarly
economical way in which Stanley
is introduced in the play, heaving up a blood-stained package to Stella. The
vigorous physicality, the echo of the primitive hunter-provider, the coarse
sexual connotations of the contents of the package (‘Meat!’), and the visible
blood, suggest passions close to the surface, all provide the audience with a
condensed impression of Stanley’s
character.
In both play and film, Williams is
adept at using such elements as scenery, props, music, human movement, sound
effects, costume and lighting to convey meaning and character-points.
Nevertheless, the detailed verbal cues provided in William’s eloquent stage
directions are only a contributing factor – albeit a crucial one – to the final
‘construct’ that is the character on stage or screen. Audience reaction may
also be influenced by the director’s input, what he chooses to emphasise and to
ignore. Important lines may have to be cut. The censors may have to be
appeased. Much depends too, on the personal qualities of the actor, the tone in
which he delivers the lines, his appearance and bearing. As we have seen,
Brando’s Stanley
is by no means always ‘sensitive’. In certain key scenes, however, he can seem
surprisingly dignified.
Stanley and Blanche at war
Let’s take as an example the first
confrontation between Stanley and Blanche, over the loss of Belle Reve. In the play, this occurs in
scene 2. At the beginning of this scene, Stanley’s
domestic authority is carefully established by means of the ‘lordly composure’
with which he accepts Stella’s kiss, his demands for supper and Stella’s
request for money. As the scene progresses, this order is shown to be
threatened by the intrusion of Blanche into his ‘territory’. Stanley’s composure vanished and his vision
is do distorted by jealous rage that he appears to mistake her cheap ‘costume
jewellery’ for ropes of pearls.
Blanche’s arrival in Stanley’s domestic
kingdom, her eloquence, her accoutrements and her strangeness, all work to
expose his ignorance and shortcomings. He is unaware that rhinestone is ‘Next
door to glass.’ His clumsy grasp of legal matters might impress Stella (‘My
head is swimming!’) but the audience is more likely to share in the mockery of
Blanche’s flirtatious exclamation: ‘My, but you have an impressive judicial
air!’ His attempts to convey the impression of a well-connected man of the word
(‘I have a lawyer acquaintance who will study these out.’) appear idiotic even
to Stella. In the end, becoming, as the stage directions inform the reader
‘somewhat sheepish’, Stanley
resorts to telling Blanche about the baby – an arguably cruel bid to restore
his compromised dignity. After all, Stella has asked him to keep the secret on
the grounds that Blanche is in too nervous a ‘condition’ to bear the news. The
play, then, offers many cues that might serve to undermine the character of Stanley in the eyes of
the audience.
Standing on his dignity
The film, however, ignores these
prompts and presents a much less compromised Stanley. Brando’s character is seen doggedly,
even confidently, asserting his rights under the ‘Napoleonic Code’. When he
tells Blanche: ‘You see … a man has to take an interest in his wife’s affairs –
especially now she’s going to have a baby.’ His tone is far from ‘sheepish’ but
is rather that of a man quite reasonably protecting the interests of his
family. The film-Stanley’s dignity and ‘reasonableness’ throws into sharp
relief negative aspect of Blanche that are already present in the scene – for
example her artifice and manipulation – but in so doing, downplays the rich
ambiguity available in the text.
Another example of Brando’s
surprisingly dignified delivery comes as Stanley
reveals Dame Blanche’s ‘pack of lies’ to Stella. In the play (scene 7), Stanley can barely
contain his glee. His loss of self-control and tendency to exaggerate are once
more on display. He uses crowing and exultant exclamations (‘No, sirree, Bob!)
and colourful imagery (Blanche is ‘a school of sharks’). At times, his language
fancifully evokes the ethos of the Wild West folklore, as he imagines her being
run out of town: ‘Yep, it was practickly a town ordinance passed against her!’
In stark contrast, Brando’s tone in the film I calm, measured and righteous.
Tellingly, some of Stanley’s
more gloating lines (e.g. ‘Boy, oh boy, I’d like to have been in that office
when Dame Blanche was called on the carpet!’) are omitted. Indeed, Brando’s Stanley only becomes
heated when talking about the need to protect Mitch, thus suggesting that he is
motivated purely by the male code of loyalty that has sprung out of their war
time service.
Illusion and reality
What is the effect of Brando’
change of tome here? In this scene, Williams juxtaposes Stanley’s presentation of the ‘truth’ about
Blanche, his ‘thoroughly checked facts’, with Blanches contrapuntal singing in
the bath. The song’s refrain, ‘But it wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed
in me!’ is no doubt whimsical and escapist, but points to another kind of
truth, one that is subjective, poetic and more forgiving of human failings.
Blanche later tells Mitch, ‘I didn’t lie in my heart’, and while this is open
to question, it is also the case that the unrestrained Stanley of scene 7 might cause the audience
to question his command of reality. Is the picture he paints of ‘Dame Blanche’
accurate or an unfair caricature? How well does he know his own motivations? Is
it significant that by the end of the play, his marriage to Stella will be
founded on a lie? It could be argued that the play maintains an ambivalent
attitude towards the two versions of ‘truth’ presented through the characters
of Blanche and Stanley, perhaps suggesting that everyone’s ‘take’ on truth is
shaped by their own needs, prejudices and fears. This section of the film, on
the other hand, appears to endorse Stanley’s
scornful attitude to Blanche’s imagination and lies, and this is largely on
account of Brando’s restrained performance. Once again, the film has shed some
of the play’s interesting ambiguity.
Dressing up the play
Costume is also used to influence
the audience’s response to Stanley.
In scene 5 of the play, he is described as wearing typical garb, ‘his green and
scarlet silk bowling shirt’, symbolic of competitive instincts and vivid
manhood. The film springs a surprise. Stanley,
last seen covered in oil, enters wearing a smart jacket, and proceeds to change
into a shirt and tie. Why is Stanley
associated with these images of respectability? One answer is that this is perhaps
not such a deviation from the character of Stanley as depicted in the play. As quiet
survivor Stella remarks, Stanley
is ‘the only one of his crowd that’s likely to get anywhere’. Perhaps his smart
attire is an intimation of respectability soon to come for this aspiring
couple.
In some ways, Stanley presents an attractive image of
social mobility celebrated as part of the American Dream. His ability to
change, to adapt, so necessary for survival, is made evident. In the previous
scene, Blanche has begged her sister not to ‘hang back with the brutes’ but
‘brutish’ Stanley’s
ability to look civilized exposes her assessment as naïve. Ironically, it is
while wearing these clothes hat he hints to Blanche that he has learnt
something of her disreputable past. For a moment, in a stunning transformation,
the coarse poker-playing drunk becomes a bastion of American decency.
Furthermore, Stanley’s
smart clothes are later echoed by those of the Young Man (very young and
innocent in the film), with whom Blanche flirts. Through costume, Stanley is subtly linked
to a world of respectability, which immoral Blanche threatens. Again, Stanley’s distrustful
attitude to Blanche is validated by the film.
Stanley: predator or sex-object?
The possibly distorting effects of
Brando’s attractiveness should not be underestimated. In the text, Stanley is described as
being highly sexed. The stage directions tell us that sexual pleasure is the
‘centre of [Stanley’s]
life’. Sexuality itself is a driving force in the play. For example, the
‘things that happen between a man and woman in the dark’ create a powerful bond
between Stella and Stanley that Blanche cannot break. However, one critic
(Hern, p xxxiii) has argued that Williams may actually be mocking Stanley’s limitations.
Certainly the descriptions of ‘gaudy seed-bearer’ and ‘richly feathered male
bird among hens’ suggest something base and comically grotesque.
In the film, however, this element
of criticism disappears in the emphasis on Brando’s good looks and stunning
ability to wear a torn tee-shirt. It could be argued that the film fails to
distinguish between being highly sexed and being sexually attractive, indeed
connives in Stanley
the rapists own delusion that his advances are being welcomed. In its treatment
of the rape, symbolised by Blanches image frozen in a crack mirror, the film
seems very unwilling to convict Stanley.
There is almost a sense that Blanche’s panicky expectation of rape puts the
idea into Stanley’s
head. Certainly, Brando’s movements are not as threatening or as full of intent
as they seem in the stage directions. The film even omits Stanley’s unambiguous line, ‘We’ve had this
date with each other from the beginning!’
Maintaining the American Dream
Brando’s sympathetic portrayal of Stanley may reflect the needs of America in the
1950s. For all his faults Stanley
is proud to be ‘one hundred percent American’. He represents the life-blood of
immigration that kept America’s
manufacturing industry strong and competitive, and maintained the material
prosperity of the American Dream. His own competitive instincts, aggressive
need to be the best and pragmatic approach to life ideally suit him for success
in this milieu. Through the baby, he and Stella are associated with progress
and the future. Perhaps Americans wanted to see this embodiment of their
success in a more attractive light and did not want to be reminded that such a
society inevitably victimized vulnerable ‘soft people’. For Williams the rape
represented ‘the ravishment of the tender … by the savage and brutal forces’ of
his society, but the film cannot sustain this interpretation. By omitting the
images of the ‘human jungle’ that precede the rape in the play, the film is
less explicit in its criticism of social factors. Blanche is presented less as
a victim of a ruthless, dog-eat-dog culture than as a neurotic woman.
Indicting the ending
Brando’s Stanley, then, denies a sympathetic response
to Blanche, and is too aesthetically pleasing to represent savage society.
Ironically, however, the ending of the film indicts Stanley far more fiercely than the play does.
Williams did not want to make a ‘black-dyed villain’ out of Stanley
and bitterly criticized the ending of the film, which sees Stella reject Stanley with the words
‘Don’t ever touch me again.’ Williams called this ‘a total contradiction to the
meaning of the play.’ In what way? Hollywood
seems to have demanded the imposition of a conventional moral framework in
which Stanley the rapist is punished. However, this is a cosy denial of the
play’s much harsher meaning that ‘life has to go on’ and that life is blind.
While victims like Blanche are forgotten, Stanley
is seen as the survivor in all of us, an instinctive force, at once brutal but
also necessary. Perhaps this accounts for the play’s fascinating ambivalence
towards Stanley, an ambivalence which the film
simplifies, first by being dazzled by the force that Brando’s Stanley represents, and then by turning
around and hypocritically condemning it.
Taken from an article by Christopher Holland in The English Review,
April 2003