A Streetcar Named Desire

I have been outspoken in the past over my opinions on Marlon Brando and his acting. There is no denying that when he cares about a project, he can be dynamic in it. But when he doesn’t, as became the norm in his latter career, he starts making questionable, sometimes ludicrous, decisions that can derail a film. This was most notable in his film The Island of Dr. Moreau but can also be seen in films like Mutiny on the Bounty and A Countess in Hong Kong, where he famously clashed with Charlie Chaplin in his final film.

Marlon, when he is passionate about a project, can be magnetic, even when playing an entirely repugnant character such as Stanley Kowalski in Tennessee Williams’ ground-breaking play-turned feature film, A Streetcar Named Desire. This is the powerhouse acting that we saw in On the Waterfront, an emotional roller-coaster of a character that can be throwing dishes against the wall in one moment and gently and almost absent-mindedly plucking a piece of lint off his wife’s outfit in the next. 

Audiences in 1951 were robbed of the full impact of this performance when it first released in theaters. Warner Bros., nervous about certain aspects of the film, forced director Elia Kazan to trim five minutes worth of material from the final cut, overriding Kazan’s strong objections. For years, this material was considered missing, believed lost forever. Fortunately, in the early 1990s, this footage was rediscovered and has been spliced back into the film, giving us the movie as it was intended to be seen. Usually, when it comes to films nominated for the Oscar, I insist on reviewing what was presented to the Academy at the time, but in this case, that version was not what was intended and removed so much crucial detail that I elected to watch the slightly longer version instead. It better represents what Tennessee Williams wrote in his play, and in the film’s screenplay, as well as what Kazan wanted us to see. 

What was removed amounts to some fascinating background details into the character of Blanche DuBois (Vivien Leigh), details that make her mental condition make more sense and give us a richer understanding of what her past was and what brought her to where she is at when this story begins. Tennessee Williams’s prose is filled with rich, salacious details that Warner Bros. wasn’t comfortable with, including lines of dialogue that would suggest that Blanche’s late husband was a closeted homosexual that committed suicide because she taunted him about it. 

In other moments, we get a better understanding of the marriage of Stanley and Blanche’s sister, Stella (Kim Hunter). Stella puts up with a lot from Stanley, including his verbal abuse and penchant for breaking things in a rage. In the restored version, we get more of what attracts her to him, including details about their wedding day and how his anger aroused her. This was steamy material that was just a little too much for Warner Bros. And the Hayes office in 1951. We had seen rough characters before in film, but nothing quite like this. It set a precedent that other actors would latch on to and exploit. Jack Nicholson would take cues from this movie in some of his more famous roles, including one I have yet to get to on the Best Picture nominee list: Five Easy Pieces. This character oozes danger, but, even more poignantly, he oozes a rough sexuality. He comes in to his home wearing a sweaty, torn undershirt, and that animal magnetism just radiates off of him. You know he is no good, but that attraction is there nevertheless. 

Blanche is equally magnetic. We know that not all is right with her from the get-go, but it takes some time to unravel what is going on behind those damaged eyes. She arrives in New Orleans to stay with her sister and Stanley, and we get hints about what has happened to her in the recent past. She is emotionally fragile, prone to be attracted to young men, and recently widowed. Stanley further breaks her down with his brutishness and his lack of empathy for her.  While the film is not explicit about it, it heavily implies that she was promiscuous with young men prior to her appearance in New Orleans. 

This film is all about gender politics and power dynamics in the mid-century old South. We see many examples of men dominating over the women, their bad natures and ill tempers on full display. The women accept it as fact and, in Stella’s case for sure, find it alluring. Blanche is hiding behind a façade of illusions, hiding her trauma and the loss of her aristocratic past. Instead, she has been brought down to earth, fragile and afraid. Stanley sees right through this façade and crashes down on her with the harsh reality of an uncaring world, ultimately tearing through her illusions and destroying her fragile psyche. Her final words, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers,” are haunting.

But this film isn’t just about Stella, Blanche, and Stanley. There is a fourth character that plays a major role in events. That is Mitch (Karl Malden). In his own way, Karl is just as much to blame for Blanche’s breakdown in the end. Mitch is a sap—made all the more obvious in the restored version—a man who is looking for a wife before his dear mother can pass on. At first, he is charming if a little awkward, but it isn’t long before he is taking advantages and acting petulant when Blanche tells him she is old-fashioned. This character is even more fleshed out when we start to understand who it is he is really courting and why. When he turns on her and tells her he no longer intends to marry her, he is tearing her down, reducing her to nothing in his eyes.

This, coupled with Stanley’s assault of her shortly afterwards, leaves her completely destroyed. We have spent nearly two hours piecing together Blanche DuBois, studying this enigma of a woman, and judging her based on what little we garner from her. What she is reduced to in the end is pitiful and pitiable. Vivien Leigh’s most recognizable performance may have been in Gone With the Wind, but she is far more powerful  and relatable in A Streetcar Named Desire. 

This is a film I respect more than I really enjoy. It’s a masterclass in acting, writing, and directing, but it also is emotionally exhausting. That is intentional, and I can appreciate it for that, but it also means that I cannot return often to it simply because it ultimately depresses me to watch Blanche’s demoralizing. That is a testament to just how good Brando and Leigh are in this. I have seen other adaptations of this play that just didn’t hold up, and the primary reason is they didn’t have the soul and the sheer rawness that Brando and Leigh effortlessly exude in every frame. They are so good that it is quite frankly hard for me to watch, especially when it is just the two on screen and Stanley is brutally breaking her down. 

Academy Award Nominations:

Best Picture: Charles K. Feldman

Best Director: Elia Kazan

Best Actor: Marlon Brando

Best Actress: Vivien Leigh (won)

Best Supporting Actor: Karl Malden (won)

Best Supporting Actress: Kim Hunter (won)

Best Adapted Screenplay: Tennessee Williams

Best Production Design: Richard Day and George James Hopkins (won)

Best Cinematography: Harry Stradling

Best Costume Design: Lucinda Ballard

Best Original Score: Alex North

Best Sound Mixing: Nathan Levinson

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Release Date: September 19, 1951

Running Time: 125 minutes

Not Rated

Starring: Vivien Leigh, Marlon Brando, Kim Hunter, and Karl Malden

Directed by: Elia Kazan