AN ILLIAD - Lisa Peterson & Denis O'Hare

I'm going to break my own rules a bit here... although, as the lauded Dr Peter Venkman would say, these are more like guidelines than rules.

I'm going to leap frog other plays chronologically (which I did once with an Andrew Bovell play) for this play written in 2010. I'm going to treat it more like a review than most of the blogs where I'm focusing on my encountering of "the great plays"... and on that last point, I'm including it amongst the great plays despite it being less prominent and well known. 

So why am I breaking the rules like some scruffy-looking nerf herder. I'm glad you, the fictitious reader of this blog, were poised to ask. Firstly, I have been passionate about greek mythology from my pre-teens, around the same time as I was introduced to super heroes and there's obviously a fair bit of cross over. I remember buying a book called "Gods, Demigods and Demons" (which I still have) from the scholastic book club and became hooked, reading "The Greek Myths" by Robert Graves and eventually "The Illiad" and "The Odyssey", which I have now read, watched and listened to several times, along with movies and other works inspired by them. So that's the `why I'm interested' part.

The 'why now' part is because I had bought tickets to watch "An Illiad" with my son Bobby at the Wharf Theatre in a one man show starring David Wenham - a favourite actor of both mine and Bobby's (particularly after he saw the movies "Gettin' Square" and "Spit")... so it was a mix of seeing this actor, this story and encountering another theatre I'd never been in ... the Wharf Theatre.

And to be honest, it's not a huge stretch to consider this for inclusion alongside "the great plays" in as much as "The Illiad" was composed (orally) around 650 BCE, and written 522 BCE and along with its sequel, "The Odyssey", is not only one of the oldest surviving works of literature, is still widely read and revisited in other formats.

And the other reason for including this show in this set of 100 plays... I had a major heart attack literally seven days before the show. It was touch and go and while I'm still figuring out where all of my pieces are going to land, one thing that seemed fairly clear was to enjoy the one per centers... the things that make life feel like you're actually living it. And not necessarily big item bucket list things, just some of the joys of living, and for me, this show qualified. With doctor's instructions, and the support of both my sons, Jamie and Bobby (and thanks to my daughter who bought the extra ticket), we went to the show. And while writing this blog definitely doesn't feel like a life priority, experiencing more plays DOES for me personally.. and so the 100 plays journey goes on, and this one is included.

Ok. So after that lengthy exposition, was it any good? Read on for my thoughts.

The story behind "An Illiad"

I guess, straight off the bat the thing that strikes you is the slight name change to the title. Not "The Illiad", but "An Illiad". The use of the indefinite article is quite appropriate. The voluminous text of the original, depending on the translation, runs to between 150,000 to 200,000 words. And while I've read it (once) and listened to it as an audiobook (several times) I don't think I or any audience member would have the patience to sit through the amount of hours it would take to reiterate the whole thing.

Instead the writers provide a broad summarised overview while focusing specifically on several lead characters... mostly Hector and Achilles, but thankfully, also Patroclus... whose story is not commonly given a lot of attention.

And who are the writers? Going into this production I incorrectly assumed it was a brand new work written for this production. Buh bow. It was written in 2012 by a writing team that included actor Denis O'Hare (who you might recognise from the "American Horror" TV franchise and "True Blood" among a stack of other shows, movies and theatrical productions), and Lisa Peterson ... a writer and prolific director who was moved by America's invasion of Iraq to write something that commented on the never ending cycles of war. Lisa directed the first production and her co-writer Denis O'Hare played the solo role of the poet.

This adaptation of Homer's original is based on a translation by Robert Fagles ... chosen against other translations by Stanley Lombardo and Robert Fitzgerald for it's particular poetic style and coherence with their message of unending wars... and this play has now been performed widely since then, including previously in Australia.

The Play

I've not been to the Wharf Theatre before and don't know how it is usually set up, but for "An Illiad" it was presented as a half an amphitheatre, two sides facing a central flat bare black-walled stage. The play commences with The Poet, David Wenham, wheeling out a large cart, equipped with a seeming mish mash of paraphernalia that he has wheeled from town to town over the ages.

The Poet takes from the cart and sets up the lighting for his performance, a bit like Talking Heads in their landmark theatrical concert "Stop Making Sense", adding elements to a bare stage as he goes, unrushed and practiced, as he has presumably done hundreds of times before. 

And when he speaks, true to the original source, it begins with an invocation (in Greek) beginning with the word rage, as he enlists the assistance of the muses to tell his story (sing his song) in the vain hopes it might make an impact. But he is not hopeful. Like Sisyphus, he prepares to roll his boulder up the mountain one more time. "Every time I sing this song, I hope it's the last time," the Poet tells us. But it's never the last time.

The story positions the Poet as essentially an incarnation of Homer who has told his story, or his song as he calls it, throughout the millennia, something like the mythical wandering jew that taunted Christ and is cursed to walk the Earth until the second coming. And he is world weary for it. The Poet speaks of times when his song attracted many, and times when it now attracts few... of times that it seemed his message was impactful, and times it fell on deaf ears. And he wonders if there is a point, or if he can do justice to singing his song. But it falls to him to do it, so he does.

Condensing a great deal of story into a bite sized summary for an audience that may not be aware of it, the writers provide a potted overview. It was the Trojan War. Helen, wife of Menelaus, leader of Sparta is kidnapped by Paris, song of Priam (the king of Troy, or Illium). Menelaus assembles an army of 10,000 men from the various Greek nations, or Achaeans, led by Menelaus' brother Agamemnon, king of Mycenea... an army the size and like of which had never before been seen before, and featuring renowned characters such as Achilles, Odysseus, Ajax, Diomedes and Patroclus.

And you don't need to know the whole back story, but their summary is helpful and brief. But to help get the message across they use the device of localising what that would be like today. For this Australian production, the Poet imagines contingents from across Australia... from Geelong, and Karratha, and Bendigo, and Ipswich and... and "GOULBURN ... the town with the big sheep" (shoutout to my homies). And it is an effective tool for demonstrating how whole communities sent away their best and brightest to this war, and for that matter to all wars, with many never to return.

From his starting point of a world-weary exhaustion, Wenham's Poet opens to this intimate connection of personalising and making the war effort more tangible and resonant. And the poet gains enthusiasm as he goes, as he grows into the task of singing us the song of Hector and Achilles ... and of rage. As the Poet continues his story, he is by the muse, or musician, Helen Svoboda, who is brought cleverly on to the stage and continues to emphasise his points and moments with bass, flute and singing. As a brief aside, her gorgeous voice, who lithe appearance and her mastery of the instruments she plays add an ethereal quality to the production. Other productions have included a variety or instruments... piano, ukulele, accordion...  they made very good choices for this one. And, as with the storytelling of "Stop making Sense", the additional components add further layers of depth and texture that compel the narrative onwards.

The story continues and includes particular focus on the two greatest fighters of either side... Hector, brother of Paris and son of Priam, King of Troy... and Achilles, the most powerful fighter amongst the Greeks and the most powerful mortal at that time in all the world. There is much detail given about each, but hear are the Cliff Notes.

Achilles, outraged by a decision and an action of his leader Agamemnon, decides he will no longer fight and sits out (but does not leave) the battle. Patroclus, his best friend, and as the story and the Poet both point out, even closer than a friend, begs him to rejoin the battle as it is turning against the Greeks but Achilles pointedly refuses. And so Patroclus begs his friend if he could borrow Achilles' armour and helm and lead their men into battle, and Achilles agrees. Seeing who they believe is their unparalleled leader Achilles back on the battle field, the Greeks are spurred on and the tide of war turns again in their favour. But the Gods intervene and reveal Patroclus for who he is. 

Hector, seeing this enjoins him in battle and slays him viciously and full of rage. The slaughter of his closest confidante in turn enrages Achilles, who rejoins the battle and slays Hector. But his rage knows no bounds, and so he commands that Hector's body be dragged behind horses around the walls of the city of Troy. In utter grief and devastation, King Priam himself approaches Achilles, putting his own life in danger, and begs to be given the body of his son that he might bury him and follow their burial rites. And at this moment, in  connection acknowledging righteous rage, an grief, and suffering and loss.. Achilles agrees and allows Hector's body to be returned to the Trojans.

And there we have it. A story, or a song, about wars that start for often ridiculous reasons ... "An Illiad" lists reasons such as Gods, pride, honour, jealousy, Helen looked more beautiful that some  one else... with soldiers and leaders clinging to thoughts of entitlement to righteous rage, and depravity, and horror and loss and grief... concludes (or for the sake of this play) with a moment of understanding and shared humanity.

The Performance

And this is the bit where I'm going to sound like some home-spun rube, easily swayed by the first few bits of theatre he sees.

But for mine, this was a phenomenal performance in a singular production. It was an outstanding performance by David Wenham in a long awaited return to the stage. While he has graced major stages around Australia many times, the last time was 27 years ago. I can't begin to imagine what draws someone to such an ambitious, exhausting, brutal role so deep into a successful career, but the audience is incredibly fortunate that he did. 

Wenham's performance is metered so perfectly, from the reticent and jaded story teller who has long ago tired of trying to tell his story for which he only sees the faintest glimmer of it having any impact, to growing into the task, growing his enthusiasms and passions and sorrows and rage. And it's not just a matter of following a dramatic timeline of increased emotional energy. It is a hugely physically demanding job, filled with, as it develops, running and athleticism and the emotional arc matches it with honed precision. When he explodes in rage in re-enacting the slaughtering of first Patroclus and then hector, I found it literally breath-taking in a way I've not experienced through theatre before... so much so that my son Bobby and I looked at each other, eyes wide open, jaws dropped in a true WTF moment feeling we were present for something very harrowing and intimate.

So, at the risk of cliches, this is a consummate performer by an actor at the peak of his prowess. While  hesitate to say I can't imagine another actor doing this so well... I'm thinking it. From the moments when he was training to be an actor, when he was told to "show me anger", or "Be a tree".. or even "think like a tree" for that matter... and through all of his many other varied acting assignments... this was an opportunity to bring his full palette to the canvas. Every subtlety and nuance, every grand gesture, every moment of connection to an audience, every surrendering to vulnerability and every contempt and outrage.

His moments early on, connecting with audience members with comments and questions and connections remind us of some of the everyman characteristics he has often readily demonstrated, but they are deployed here as a stepping stone towards the point to which he is taking the Poet. And despite his weariness, and sense of pointlessness and repetition, the Poet arrives once again at a moment of complete emotional release.

There is a moment very near the end when the poet opines that after a ten year war of so loss, so many pointless deaths, and so little gain he had hoped that might be the last we see of war, but then came the Messenian Wars, the Peloponnesian Wars, and then... and then the Poet, or Wenham, spends I would estimate five minutes listing every major war and battle... EVERY bloody one of them... in all of the years that followed... ending with, after a short pause... Iran. And all the while he's listing these I was wondering how the hell does he remember all of these let alone list them so clearly and without lethargy. And THEN it hits... hell, how has he remembered all of the last 100 minutes of uninterrupted performance. With respect to the inclusion of the musician, it is a performance for the ages. And others have performed it, and I haven't seen them and can't judge them, but this is something that made me reconsider just what theatre can do, and what can be one on a stage.

The show finishes with a conclusion about the pointlessness of war and the phallacy of our entitlement towards rage. But it's not didactic. It remains the story of a poet speaking to those who have ears, aware that it will almost certainly make no change, but still committed to the telling. 

By the end Wenham is a sweating, exhausted heap. That he is willing to put himself through this night after night, and for all of the time it took to master the role, is not something that could ever be satisfactorily financially compensated. This is a pure commitment to theatre, to story telling, to testing oneself when there is no need and for providing an experience... or emotion, or learning, or entertainment or whatever... to an engaged audience.

I could not have enjoyed it more, and in the context of so many things I don't feel it all wrong in including "An Illiad" (and especially this performance of it) among the great plays.

Could it be done in Goulburn. Geez, I'd like to see someone try! I honestly would.

DEATH OF A SALESMAN - Arthur Miller

I recently saw Nathan Lane on the Late Show with Stephen Colbert, and Nathan is currently (at the time of writing) playing Willy Lomax in death of a Salesman on Broadway. He recounted a story about seeing the play when he was very young with a family member who was a salesman and was also not given to telling people a lot about what he was thinking... but whom said "That (referring to the play) is true."

"Death of a Salesman" is regarded as not only one of the all-time great American plays but as a snapshot of a lot of what was happening in America at the time. While now it is more of a historic look at the role of a salesman than a current one, many of the themes associated with it... the disappearing American Dream, abandonment, betrayal, society's view of aging out of usefulness, fathers and sons... are still central themes in modern life and remain as valid as ever. 

It's another of those plays regarded as a contender for the title of the greatest American play. It won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, the Tony Award for Best Play, ran for 742 performances, has been revived on Broadway five times (and countless other productions elsewhere), adapted to film 10 times and one critic said, best on print sales alone, is probably the most successful modern play ever published. So it certainly comes highly recommended... let's dig into it a bit.

Death of a Salesman

Willy Loman is a salesman and at 60 years of age, finds his sales declining, his finances stretched, his expectations for his sons entirely unmet and his respect within his workplace minimal at best. By any of the criteria he considers, he is a failure.

[This part of the blog was interrupted by a medical situation. The following part picks up after that and attempts to be less detailed].

Willy has an awkward relationship with his kids and the kids, particularly Biff, are simultaneously tip-toeing around their relationship with their dad. Willy's wife Linda, who he berates at times, and critiques often, continues to remain steadfast by his side, defend him against the criticisms of his sons, and comforts him when he is under stress... which he often is.

Willy confronts his boss for a raise or for  less travel-based role, unsuccessfully, is forced to deal with the success of his acquaintances and their more successful kids, and begins to spiral as a result.

The play tells a tale about ageing, about failing to achieve your life long goals and expectations, about struggling with self worth, and stress, and feelings of being unwanted and useful. And that illuminates these and other themes such as the failure of the American Dream, of materialism, and society ageing it seniors. And there are very heavily emphasised that the loads that Willy carries have led to likely suicide attempts in his past. Willy is carrying a very heavy weight and as the show progresses, the weight increases.

These are good elements for a story, but what elevates this even more is the story telling technique in which Willy has living memories and fantasies in real time, enacted all around him, as he remembers and deliberately disremembers his past. Structurally and as a story telling frame, it adds a lot of interest to the story telling for the audience. These fantasies and hallucinations are only seen by Willy, and would be unknown to his family altogether if he didn't voice comments relating to his imagined experiences as was having them.

Two other narrative elements that elevate the show... the slow reveal of Biff's problem with his dad that laid the path for much of Biff's journey in life, and Willy's final resolution.

Versions is saw

Very quickly, I saw a version I hated, and one I quite liked.

As big a fan of Dustin Hoffman as I am, I thought the 1985 version he starred in was rubbish. Over-hyped and under-delivered. Hoffman was very ham-fisted as Willy, his performance seemed overly dramatic and performative, and the makeup to make Hoffman (then aged 48) look 60 was applied very heavy handedly and unrealistically. I thought John Malkovitch as Biff was pretty good, as was Charlie Durning, but overall I watched this presentation in wonder of why people think so much of it.

The 1966 telemovie, I though, was far better. Lee J Cobb was perfectly incredibly nuanced rather than continually annoying, and so his moments of hypomania seemed interspersed and earned. It also featured a star-studded cast of actors I really like... Gene Wilder, James Farentino, Bernie Koppell (yep, Dr Adam Bricker from the Love Boat) and George Segal wonderfully as Biff. This production delivered in all of the right places, making Willy's deterioration more gradual and understandable and emphasising the key themes with subtlety and resonance.

My thoughts

"Death of a Salesman" is regarded as one of the greats and I guess it is. I think for contemporary versions to work, the barrage of heavily dramatic moments might need to be dialled back, or spaced well for the key moments. In it's own context it was obviously informed by experiences of the war and the depression, and those would have provided particular insights at it's original performances.

It's a good tory and I thought Miller's story telling techniques and novel elements were well applied and integral to the story telling, to providing a fresh theatrical experience and to the understanding of the decline of Willy. 

On a very individual level, I personally preferred Miller's "All my Sons", which I watched just before this and really loved, to "Death of a Salesman", and part of that may have been due to the lack of hype around the former and the very high expectations related to this theatre favourite. 

I did especially like a lot of the dialog and quotes... especially the quotes around "Promises were made", and the one about it being a sobering experience when you realise you are worth more to your family dead then alive. These and other comments resonated deeply and there is much for ageing people in particularly to contemplate.

Due to it's fairly relentless place, it may cause some to struggle for their emotional response to keep up with Willy's story, but it's a very good story, very well told, and even these years later a pertinent and timely critique materialism and getting by without ever getting ahead for wage slaves.

Materials accessed

• "Death of a Salesman" - script (1949). Available numerous places for free... here's a version from the Internet Archive.
• "Death of a Salesman" - telemovie (1966). Available freely online at Youtube 1.
• "Death of a Salesman" - movie (1985). Available freely online on Youtube 2.

ALL MY SONS - Arthur Miller

 

From the outset, I have to say I really enjoyed this play. I had next to no knowledge of it before viewing (I watched two versions of this and didn't read the play) and so I experienced it without expectations. I also should probably confess that before I started this ridiculous 100 Great Plays in 365 Days, my favourite play was "The Crucible", also by Miller, so I was a bit nervous about whether I'd enjoy any other of his works. I needn't have worried.

Before I get into this post, I'll take a brief segue, which I think I'm safe to do because I doubt anyone is actually reading this blog series. I've looked back on these blogs and they are a bit all over the place. Some focus on the script, some on a performance (or several performances). Is it a review of the script, or the writer, or the performance? Sometimes all of the above. Reading back through the blog posts, I feel they don't live up to the personal quality standards of theatrical reviews I have previously written. With community theatre, I don't make much mention of anything negative and try to draw out the positive aspects I most enjoyed, sharing any insights and impacts I might have experienced. And, while in this blog I don't avoid detailing the elements I don't love and I feel fine with that, the actual central concept of the blogs seems a little vague and unclear and I was a bit disappointed that the style and standard and intent of what I wrote differed a lot from post to post.

But as this is a theatrical journey, I think it's ok if I figure some of these things on the run. While I will still try to draw out themes and ideas (and performances and staging where they stand out to me), I think the overarching point of my writing the blogs is to process my thoughts which seems to be aided by the written word, and that these posts are not reviews per se, they are impressions of how a play hits me, what appealed, what didn't and why... fully aware that individual productions can give very different experiences. I'm trying to be a theatrical archeologist, uncovering things that are new to me, even if they are already well, known to others. So these blogs are not reviews per se, they are just my experiences of encountering works I'm not familiar with. 

I'm also trying, unsuccessfully, trying to find ways of shortening these down... mostly because the time needed to write them is chewing into my play reading and watching time considerably. Fingers crossed. Now back to the play.

All my sons

The idea for the play came to Miller from an idea suggested by his mother. Some owners and leaders of a manufacturing business that made parts for aircraft became aware of some faulty parts, but sold them to the US defence force anyway. Planes fell from the sky and many American service men died. That provides the story frame, although the individuals, their conversations and their interactions are fictional.

The play touches on themes of family v doing the right thing, obligation, materialism, guilt, denial, war and morality. It's a very satisfactory meal. Aside from the great plotting and interactions between characters, two main things contributed to my enjoyment of this play. Miller is a gifted dialogist. and I was fortunate enough to see two outstanding productions (that I'll get to later).

Regarding the former, I found that Miller's character conversations hit home as more realistic to me than many of the playwrights I've been reading in this series. His dialog (again, at least to me) was more pithy, more punchy, and while there was a sufficient amount to set tone and mood, he didn't bog down there which I've felt happened with a few other playwrights. He gets on with the story and the various plot elements he drops have few red herrings and connect together for a powerful conclusion.

I'm going to try and avoid spoilers because I believe this play works best with some surprises up its sleeve... but the characters include the father and family figure head Joe Keller, who runs the plant and was briefly imprisoned before being exonerated, Kate (his wife) who is mourning her oldest son (Larry) that was reported missing presumed dead, which she doesn't believe. Kate loves her family, but retains some hostility towards Joe and on several triggered occasions succumbs to a lack of control and anger. 

Chris Keller, the surviving son, idolises his brother and his parents, and has fallen in love with Annie Deever, who had been Larry's girl before Larry went "missing" three years ago. Chris believes she feels the same way. Annie is also the daughter of Joe's former friend and colleague Steve Deever who was found guilty of the matters Joe was cleared of, setting up something of a Montague and Capulets, or Hatfield and McCoys situation.

Arriving later in the play is Annie's brother, George, who grew up as a close friend of Chris. He believed that his father was guilty of the crimes he was convicted of, but has come to believe his dad was innocent and carrying the blame of other guilty parties. There are five other characters, neighbours and friends, who also share the stage.

Again, avoiding too many reveals, what I most liked about the play was the intricacy of the intertwined relationships, the slow reveal of key bits of information, the hints of something not being quite right in elevated conversations in which Joe or Kate seemed somehow amplified. and the appropriately limited use of the characters with lesser parts... none of their appearances or dialog wasted, all contributing without pulling focus.

If I haven't made it clear yet, I REALLY liked this play... and maybe it's because I have been hiding beneath a theatrical rock that I hadn't heard much about the play and so it snuck up on me like some sort of hidden gem.  

I was also very relieved. Since many of the highly regarded plays by the highly regarded playwrights didn't do very much for me (not all of them... loved "Our Town" and quite liked a few others), I was starting to think there was something wrong with my ability to appreciate revered works. But I enjoyed the first production of this that I saw this so much, I was excited to know I had another great version up my sleeve, and neither disappointed.

The versions I saw

The first version I watched was from the 2019 London Revival performed at the Old Vic in London. The star-studded turn included, among others, Bill Pullman as Joe, Sally Field as Kate, Jenna Coleman as Annie and Colin Morgan as Chris. Pullman was fine, and the others I felt were exceptional. Sally fields grief was palpable, her mood turns, always triggered by fear of things hidden coming to light, were gripping. Former Doctor Who companion Jenna Coleman, perhaps as a result of her fake time travelling experience, slid effortlessly into the role of a young woman in the 1940s, and her reactions and confusion to the changing moods and attitudes around her hit all the right sympathetic nerves. But I thought Colin Morgan, who I know almost nothing about except that he played the title role in the Merlin TV series, was exceptional. Of all of the characters, he had the most dramatic arc to draw and I felt he nailed the optimistic affable everyman that descended into a distraught young man tortured by revelations exactly as Miller devised it. A great performance, with a very realistic reproduction of a backyard leading into the back of a house as it's staged set piece, that you can see on the National Theatre at Home subscription service.

The other version I saw was also very very good. It also recreated the same scene setting in a very similar style (lighting seemed a bit too harsh on the actors faces at times but it looked great). This was the 2010 production staged at the Apollo Theatre in the West End. It starred David Suchet and Zoe Wanamaker (both from the TV series Poirot) as Joe and Kate respectively, with Jemima Rooper as Annie, and Stephen Campbell Moore as Chris. I have to say, I've never seen a lot of range in my limited views of David Suchet as he has mostly played serious, taciturn roles, but his performance in this was avuncular and full of joy. I thought his was a stronger, more layered performance than Pullman's. I think he also hit the emotional sweet spots in the more dramatic moments too, partly I imagine because of how well he'd delivered the lighter side. The other actors were all very good too. This version can be seen on the Digital Theatre subscription streaming service and, honestly, you could see either version of this and be equally as entertained and moved.

My thoughts

While it's not about a very well known true story, I think the fact that Miller had a frame suggested by a true story helped him guide his ship. This was his second play and his first, "The man who had all the Luck" had flopped on Broadway, lasting only four nights. he was so dispirited he said he'd try one more show and if that didn't work, he'd give it away. This was that show, and thankfully he didn't give it away or we would have been deprived of not only this show but the rest of his catalog of shows.

Again, I totally enjoyed this. The family tones and relationships felt familiar, the difficulty in absorbing new information about loved ones and trying to figure out how to react didn't seem at all performative, and the dramatic finish hit hard because all of the hard work had been done in engaging the audience and bringing them irresistibly to to that point. 

But most of all the dialog. So many quotes that showed a great ear for original, interesting writing. Here's just a couple of phrases that I really liked, showcasing his touch for the light and comic, and also the ability to hit the mark with both barrels.

- When Chris asks his dad (Joe) for the book review of the newspaper, and his dad replies but you don't read any books, Chris replies "I like to keep abreast of my ignorance." 

- Or when Joe says “I’m his father and he’s my son, and if there’s something bigger than that I’ll put a bullet in my head.” 

And there's another quote near the end that gives greater depth to the title of the show.

Overall, I totally enjoyed this. No notes from me. It's a great show, and one I'd like to see in person, anywhere.

Materials accessed:

• "All my Sons" - script (1946). Available for free at many sites online, including this version from Maitland Repertory Theatre.
• "All my Sons" - pro-shot video (2010). Produced at the Apollo Theatre and available to view by subscription on the Digital Theatre streaming service.
• "All my Sons" - pro-shot video (2019). Produced at the Old Vic theatre and available to view by subscription on the National Theatre at Home streaming service.

Please note... there are other versions that can be viewed for free on Youtube but I have not accessed those.

CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF - Tennessee Williams

There's a lot of dramatic fodder to be found in sitting a dysfunctional family together and letting the conversations, the narrative and the results play out.

It's shown up in some of the plays I've already read from Ibsen, Chekhov, Williamson, Bovell and the two previous plays I've watched/read by Williams, and with good reason. There are few things more immediate or recognisable by an audience as they way we navigate the unresolved tensions of family, especially when they find themselves enclosed in a small space over a period of time.

It's a favourite story frame for Williams, at least in the three plays of his that I've read so far. Add in heat and humidity, familial friction and dysfunction, a southern setting, some significant and uncomfortable reveals along the way and a health dollop of sexual repression and it's a Tennessee Williams greatest hits package.

This is the third and last of the Tennessee Williams plays I'm looking at but already, even from a very reduced selection, it's clear that Williams has a very good eye and ear for the uncomfortable, repressed and sometimes explosive elements of the things that are done, undone, said and unsaid in a family .

Asked for his favourite of the plays he has written, Tennessee Williams nominated this play... "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof." A lot of people agree with him. It's another Pulitzer Prize winner for Drama (1955), also won the New York Drama Critics Award for Best Play in that same year, and its another play that has attracted a conga line of great actors to perform in it.

One of the reasons to watch or study a play is context. It's not the only reason but it often gives a fuller experience when you understand a playwright was writing about something often ignored or left in silence. Context assists with the understanding and appreciation of this play.

I liked it. I also thought it felt tremendously different across the versions I saw, which I'll get to. But first a bit about the play (and I'm trying to cut back the size of these blogs so I'll TRY to keep it brief.

The Play

"Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" is set at a family gathering at which Big Daddy is celebrating his 65th birthday. Gathered at the house are Big Daddy himself, his wife Ida Pollitt (Big Mama), alcoholic son Brick and his wife Maggie (or known as Maggie the Cat), Brick's brother Gooper (ao referred to, mostly by Maggie, as Brother Man), and Brick's sister Mae (referred to as Sister Woman). Also present ar Big Daddy's physician, Doctor Baugh, Reverend Tooker and several of Gooper and Mae's children (who Maggie refers to as the "no neck monsters").

At the gathering, there's much talking about Big Daddy's health. He and Big Mama believe he has been given a clean bill of health, but the rest of the family know otherwise. We don't see a lot of Brother Man and Sister Woman, most of the story takes place in conversations between Brick and Maggie, or Brick and Big Daddy.

Maggie (the Cat) has married into an overwhelming family. She is a sensual and gregarious but unfulfilled woman and is frustrated by Brick's seeming lack of interest in or attraction to her, having not had sex for some time, and his determination to be unsociable and to continue to drink himself into a stupor. Big Daddy is a dominating and overbearing man. He is  heavy on demands on things that Brick needs to do, whether he wants to or not, but it is clear that he favours Brick over Gooper.

These two dyadic relationships  carry the weight of the show, and both lean into Brick and what exactly he is suffering from... what's up with him. And both his father and his wife believe it has something to do with the suicide death of Brick's friend and football team mate, Skipper.

[SPOILER]

Through the course of the lengthy scene and argument between Brick and Big Daddy, Brick reveals that Skipper confessed his attraction to Brick, which he rejected. Some time thereafter, Skipper took his own life. Earlier, Maggie had made comments that alluded to concerns about the closeness between Brick and Skipper. Big Daddy dropped a few hints as well. But in a surprisingly soft scene, Big Daddy attempted to show some don't-ask, don't tell acceptance of what may or may not have happened, and what may or may not have been felt.

Possibly on top of guilt, the matter of lies (he favours the word mendacity) seems to be eating up Brick. He and Maggie are living a lie, he has held on to the truth about Skipper and the family are lying to Big Daddy about his health. When Brick tells Big Daddy the truth about hi health, Big Daddy storms off leaving the family to unravel a little more. Big Mama is also devastated while Maggie, who has been concerned that her lack of closeness to brick may endanger their share of the inheritance, makes up a lie that she is pregnant and, when alone again with brick, commits to making the lie true.

I think it was a wise choice by Williams to concentrate on the central three characters, while allowing us to meet and hear from the the others. It ensured that the many different points of view didn't fragment the story while still layering and reinforcing the family issues.

I also liked that the reveal by Brick about Skipper felt earned. There were some subtle hints and comments along the way so that it didn't feel like a deux ex machina for shock value. But on this occasion, a reader or audience member or viewer may have a very different experience depending on the version they encountered. That's always somewhat true but I was particularly conscious of how some very different visions and differing acting combinations hit very differently. Maggie, for instance, can be played as a Princess Diana type character, trying to make the most of a lifestyle she was unprepared for, or as an active manipulator. Here are the versions I saw. 

The versions I saw

The first version I saw (and the only one I watched all the way through) was the 2017 production performed primarily at the Young Vic in London and then filmed at the Apollo Theatre for National Theatre at Home.  Jack O'Connell is suitably pained throughout as Brick, Sienna Miller is brash and loud, leaning heavily into the Southern accent as Maggie, and Colm Meaney (who I'd loved on Star Trek and the Commitments and pretty much anything he's been in) was commanding and magnetic as Big Daddy, and very sensitive in helping Brick following his big reveal. They used a big fairly open set, a clever shower that appeared to run realistically, a bunch of nudity by O'Connell and Mille (downplayed slightly in the filmed version that showed but didn't focus at length on naked characters. And there was a bucket  load of smoking (a bug bear of mine when it's over done). But it was engaging and powerful and interesting.

The next one I looked at was the 1958 film version, released just a few years after it was written. Burl Ives played Big Daddy, Elizabeth Taylor took on the role of Maggie, and best in the biz Paul Newman played Brick. I have to admit I've never been terribly wowed by Elizabeth Taylor, but she was bloody good in this. And Paul Newman just has to turn up and I cheer. But this is a VERY different story. It removes all of the homosexual overtones, and changes the ending with happy endings for Brick's relationships with his dad and his wife.  Williams himself apparently hated this version and told people not to watch it. The screenwriter thought the audience couldn't tolerate putting Taylor and Newman together and introducing the topic of homosexuality. The screenwriter sucked. Newman has also said he is disappointed with how it turned out. Still, not a bad film if watched without knowledge of the censorship hammered into it.

I also flicked through the 1976 version with Robert Wagner as Brick, his wife the gorgeous Natalie Wood as Maggie (this was five years before someone I may have already mentioned may have killed her), Maureen Stapleton as Big Mama and Sir Laurence Olivier as Big Daddy. It's a made for TV version and it shows. Robert Wagner seemed to think looking sleep means looking anguished and Olivier would not have picked up an Olivier Award for his performance here. At least it didn't edit out significant portions of the story but it's unrecognisable from the Young Vic version.

And another I only flicked through was another made for TV version, the 1984 American Playhouse rendition featuring Rip Torn as Big Daddy, Jessica Lange as Maggie and Tommy Lee Jones as Brick. Like the 1976 version, a low budget effort but some really good performances. In fact, I've never thought Tommy Lee had a lot of range but he plays a very good Brick. Both TV versions stick to the script, as does the Young Vic version although the feel very different, and then there's the 1958 which goes off on a very different direction. Your choice.

Final thoughts

This is the last of three Williams plays I'll cover. He has a very identifiable tone and style and, as I've said before, sometimes these things are like flavours... chocolate, strawberry, liquorice... dealer's choice. So, I liked all three of Williams' plays that I read, but it's probably not entirely my flavour.

I like that his plays have identifiable central themes, and some different ones for each play, and how even when he goes off on tangential conversations, the departures often add to story depth and don't steal focus from the main points. Then when, Brother man and Sister Woman do have moments you get a glance at how greedy, antagonistic and nasty they can be, that the central characters, as flawed as they are, exist in  context and can be viewed somewhat more sympathetically.

On the flip side, like some other playwrights I've looked at, he DOES go on a bit. And I feel that the focus on heavy accents do steal focus at times.

But he's a great writer and you leave "The Glass Menagerie", "Streetcar named Desire" and "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" impacted. The last two in particular pack a bit of an emotional wallop.

While it's probably not a big deal, I also like that he is very intentional with his play titles. One play heavily features a menagerie of glass animals and also uses that as a metaphor, one is named after a streetcar Williams once saw a Steetcar that was bound for Desire Street, which not only was a quirky reference but also emphasised a key them of the play, and this play, "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" describes how we walk on egg shells and tip toe around the truth like a cat would as it walked across a hot tin roof... even including a character called Cat as a cute throw away.

Williams enjoys words, he enjoys writing, and he enjoys covering themes and topics that at the time of writing were otherwise barely spoken about. They were important plays in their historical context and still very enjoyable in their own right.

Materials accessed

• "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" - script (1955). Available for free at various places online, including the Internet Archive.
• "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" - film (1958). Available on HBO Max and Prime Video by subscription, or by rent or purchase on Prime Video, Google Play, Youtube and Apple TV.
• "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" - TV movie (1976). Available freely on Youtube (1).
• "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" - TV movie (1984). Available freely on Youtube (2).
• "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" - script (2017). Available by subscription on National Theatre at Home.

A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE - Tennessee Williams

 

One of my kids... I won't name which one... upon hearing someone on a TV show shouting ":Stelllllla", mentioned that that's from Simpsons. Right. I mean, in some way every pop culture reference from pretty much any time in history  is "from The Simpsons" in as much as they parody everything eventually. That one plaintive cry... "Stella"... made by Stanley Kowalski is widely recognised, even by those who don't know what book, show or movie it's from, much less which character says it (and I have to say Stella's cry of "Blanche" at the end came with more of a gut punch for me. 

And I wanted to sneer at said un-named child but the fact is that, while I knew it was from Streetcar named Desire, had heard it quoted and misquoted for years, and had seen video snapshots of Marlon Brando from the 1951 film version, I'd never seen or read the play. Until a few days ago.

As with almost all of the plays on this 100 plays, it comes with wide recognition and high expectations. In a very brief overview, it's a bit overlong, well written, open for powerful and dramatic interpretation, and if you see the play through, quite powerful and bound to stick with you for long after you've seen it.

It explores the themes of reality v illusion, desire, brutality and sweeping uncomfortable truths under the carpet and the original 1947 Broadway production won for Williams the Pullitzer Prize for Drama. The film made of it four years later picked up four Oscar including one for Vivien Leigh as Blanche. And, like so many other plays on this list, those who have played the roles in productions of this play include a who's who of Hollywood.

So let's get to the play.

The Play

Just to get the title out of the way, the streetcar routes in New Orleans at the time of writing were given names that related to their destinations, including one route that went to Desire Street. To get to her sister Stella's house, she has to catch that streetcar...  which also provided a handy piece of foreshadowing 

And arriving on that streetcar, Blanche is the visitor from hell. She comes uninvited, stays in a squashed apartment for  a crazy length of time (about five months I think), is persistently demanding and loud, and continues to poke the Kowalski bear. She suffers from great anxiety and struggles also to accommodate things from her past. She is particularly self conscious about her appearance and is concerned with whether she is still capable of attracting men. 

Suffering from an extreme and extended case of cabin fever, Kowalski is completely over Blanche's invasion of his home (and he does believe very much in the home being the man's domain to rule over). He's sick of her her high maintenance, her perpetual long and involved stories, her influence on his wife, her lack of respect for him and her antagonism towards him, calling him an ape and swine among other observations. To borrow a phrase, he is well and truly sick of her shit.

Stanley finds out some information about her past, matters that he feels speak of her morality, and in that way that people do when they want to win an argument, drags in any negative details about Blanche that might get her out of their home. Sorry, his home.

While staying with the couple, Blanche also meets a friend of Stanley's called Mitch, and without allowing it to gain legs, she tries to maintain his interest in her with coquettish and flirtatious behaviour.

Reaching his limits, Stanley purchases a ticket on a greyhound bus for Blanche to use, insisting that she has to go but she avoids the conversation, avoids leaving and becomes more and more heightened as her stay there continues.

[SPOILERS]

The play has a disturbing ending. And while the topics it brings up are ones I'd like to talk about, I don't want to ruin any fellow newcomers opportunity to discover it as I did. I will, say that a lot of the play's power relies on the ending. It's very uncomfortable. Some of the final elements are more alluded to than detailed, perhaps that's for the better as it may provoke deeper discussions about the willing disbelief of likely evidence versus the drama queen that cried wolf, of unacceptable violence being swept under the carpet and trauma induced mental health issues an being believed. Without the ending it would have had far less impact for me and hit far less powerfully. 

And as the play reach its conclusion, Blanche is led away, then poker game continues and it's almost as if the world continues and nothing had happened.

The version I saw

I watched the 2014 Young Vic production pro shot shown on the National Theatre at Home, starring Gillian Anderson as Blanche, Vanessa Kirby as Stella and Ben Foster as Stanley Kowalski among others. I was always going to like Gillian Anderson's turn at the role. Scintillating and gives herself completely to the role, including a very pronounced southern belle accent. I also very enjoyed Kirby's interpretation of Stella, but it was Ben Foster as Stanly Kowalski for me that was mesmerising. At times charming and personable, and at a turn menacing, knee jerk, tightly strung, and on the edge. Foster's Kowalski was more like Russell Crowe in Romper Stomper than it was to Brando as Kowalski.in the 1951 film version. Speaking of that version, I will probably watch it some day but this was 3 hours of heavy going attention and I need to give it some space to settle.

My thoughts.

Williams is a very powerful writer. He has a lot of dialog that is more about setting the mood and establishing the patter, then he hits you with something like Blanche's comment: "I don't want realism, I want magic," and the heartbreaking revelation that she has "always depended on the kindness of strangers." Williams also includes a lot of unobvious, uncliched conversations. 

For my money though, he does go on a bit. I still appreciate the quality of his work, I just think some of the ongoing, often directionless conversations did more to annoy me than Stanley. This is coming up with a few writers, my wish for a bit more self editing, and it's not lost on me that there is come irony in that given I am prone to overwriting.

In my post on "The Glass Menagerie" I made mention that I found the repeated use of smoking as a mood setting crutch was a bit over the top and intrusive, and the heavily southern accented characters, apparently another motif of Williams', also had an erosive effect on me after a while. Ditto for both elements in "A Streetcar named Desire" as well. And having briefly looked at some other versions, it's not limited to these presentations. But just like you're going to have to get used to descriptions of Maine and the people who live and some of their regional quirks when you're reading a Stephen King book, this is just part of the well from which Williams writes.

Just like with "The Glass Menagerie," this is another "actor's play" that I believe actors would line up to perform such strong, individual characters. Form much of the play I felt like I was uncomfortably goggleboxing a real life argument with a whole lot of conversations that didn't always add to my understanding of what was going on (and I believe that's a skill of Williams... chats that aren't always plot developing but are consistently mood establishing). But, in my very humble opinion, the ending redeemed the play considerably.

It's very difficult talking about the ending without describing the ending. Suffice to say it DID have a powerful impact for me and I'm assuming many others. You can go around in circles debating whether a powerful ending is enough to carry a show (and no doubt many will disagree with my call that the show needed to be carried), but it's called a climax for a reason. It makes the show more about something and heavily underlines some themes that had already been established.

This is a great work. 

Materials I accessed:

• "A Streetcar named Desire" - script (1947). Freely available on multiple websites including PB Works.
• "A Streetcar named Desire" - pro shot video (2014). Available on subscription on National Theatre at Home.