A Streetcar Named Desire Review (Crucible Theatre, Sheffield)

15 March 2025 I 19:15 I Crucible Theatre, Sheffield

⭐⭐⭐⭐

With a recent resurgence of Tennessee Williams' legendary play A Streetcar Named Desire (primarily Rebecca Frecknall's sell-out revival), Josh Seymour's vision is consistently arresting and devastating. With a unique attention to psychological decline, this adaptation staged at Sheffield's Crucible Theatre proposes a contemporary Southern Gothic. Upon a thrust stage, this is open to both vulnerability and a competitive arena of dominance.

One of the greatest American literatures of the 20th century, Blanche Dubois returns to a blistering post-war New Orleans, visiting her sister Stella. A dwindling southern belle, Blanche is introduced to Stanley Kowalski, her hypermasculine and brutish brother-in-law. Her illusions of prosperity and eternal beauty falter, as audiences traverse her histories that mask hideous realities.

Atmospherically, this production holds a dreamlike quality, something ethereal that positions us within Blanche's inner. Sound designs and arrangements by Alexandra Faye Braithwaite are rarely assertive, each with a delicate yet haunting beauty. Opening the performance with an onstage pianist, the setting of Elysian Fields holds a serene quality opposed to one of hostility. The location feels too familiar to a displaced Blanche, yet positively gives the play further to travel.

Action centrally occurs in Stella's flat, represented by a circular platform which is altogether restricting and dynamically tight, suffocating the women of the play. Frankie Bradshaw's oppressive set design places rightful importance on the bathroom, situated on a revolve to circulate the flat thus taunting Stanley's boyish ego. As Blanche's safe space, the well-known Scene 10 is altered to violate this room, ultimately losing her sense of belonging.

Words cannot do justice for Joanna Vanderham's Blanche DuBois, placing the character under a microscope and delivering with exacting precision. She holds a frenetic energy in which audiences empathise with her instability. Yet this isn't overplayed to be melodramatic, with a steeliness to rival Stanley. Vanderham's presence is triumphant and transfixing, her vocal textures (Fudge and Dignan) immaculately progressive through Blanche's traumas.

The role of Stanley Kowalski leaves huge shoes to fill, where Jake Dunn's characterisation is mightily primitive. Leaving the theatre, my shoulders ached from holding them so tense, perfecting his intimidating nature. Dunn's Stanley requires a fraction of charm (see Marlon Brando) to ground his motivation, lending the role a more compelling measure of manipulation.

This redeemable quality would allow Amara Okereke's Stella more softness when forgiving his violence. Okereke portrays Stella with a headstrong confidence, an admirable quality which levels the playing field to imply resilience to the situation she has become accustomed to.

Williams' text does not give character to Blanche's past lover Allan, though Seymour's vision materialises the boy in the role of a vocalist. Portrayed by Jack Ofrecio, this ghostly figure is a constant memory to haunt Blanche. Accompanying an early transition with a full song, this can feel aesthetically jarring as Allan's relevance in unknown to this moment. Yet in Act Two, his presence is masterful and well-considered as a vehicle for Blanche's hallucinogenic state, speaking to Allan opposed to unfocused monologues.

A cluster of lightbulbs descend upon Ofrecio's entrance which mimic the imagery of a constellation, highlighting spirituality as a comfort for Blanche. Howard Harrison's lighting design is impressive in its multitudes, often shifting as the flat tonally shifts from a cruel place to one of familial warmth. A final illumination of the audience exposes us and our judgements, in equal part to Blanche's aversion to the light.

I have often lost the character of Mitch in previous productions, though Tayla Kovacevic-Ebong's rendition is purposeful and memorable. His motivation and narrative arc are clear, with an endearing simplicity that contributes considerable levels of humour to an otherwise bleak script.

Where A Streetcar Named Desire remains vastly popular today, this adaptation at Sheffield's Crucible Theatre firmly respects this legacy. This vision is not a surface-level observation of events, but an investing psychological probe into Blanche's destruction. The ticket price, especially in £15 front-row seating, is immensely worth it to witness Vanderham's impeccable range, from pride to her illusioned fragility. A Blanche DuBois for the history books.