Writers' Stages a Stunning 'STREETCAR'

Writers' Theatre's set design for A Streetcar Named Desire is worth the drive up to Glencoe alone. Collette Pollard's 1/3 thrust not only impressively emerges the audience into Stanley and Stella Kowalski's humble French Quarter abode, it also pressure cooks 'em. A pressure cooker of tense moments, thrilling performances, and gentle direction stews below the Hubbell's second-story flat. For that we have David Cromer to thank.

Cromer's production of Tennessee Williams' Pulitzer Prize winning drama -now in its third and final extension out in the 'burbs- is nothing short of spectacular. He has proven, once again, that a gentle directorial hand is what turns a well-written script into an evening of engaging drama. With the inclusion of a small ensemble (played by Andrew Burden Swanson), Cromer skillfully adds an ethereal element which both beautifully clarifies and visually elevates Blanche's past.

Thanks to Marlon Brando's era-defining "STELLAAAAA!", Streetcar seems to have become all about Stanley. Matt Hawkins brings a dark boyish charm to Stanley's "ape-like Pollack." He's a smooth operator whose smile we're not quite sure is from a place of sweetness or insanity. And thanks to the close proximity of the audience to the stage, several of Hawkins' violent outbursts caused many of us in the crowd to jump at attention, fearing a beer-addled blow.

At her timid entrance, I questioned whether or not Natasha Lowe was really going to sink her teeth into the faded Southern magnolia's breadth. Foolish first impression on my part. Lowe's severely polar monologues in Acts 1 and 2 proved not only her understanding of Blanche's history, but the ins and outs of what the true essence of pain and frailty is. Act 1's Belle Reve tirade ("..fought for it, bled for it, nearly died for it...") towards sister Stella (a calm, sweet, yet thankless Stacy Stoltz) was boisterous and sharp, while Act 2's historical confession to Mitch (a sometimes strangely down-played Danny McCarthy) was a well-crafted, soft-spoken aria. By the end of Act 3, Blanche has has clearly lost it, but three hours worth of Lowe's care and nuance turns Blanche's exit heart-tuggingly tragic.

Cromer has also assembled a supporting cast worthy of their successfully lengthy run - most notably Ryan Hallahan's adorably sweet Young Collector and Jenn Engstrom's crass yet nurturing Eunice Hubbell, dialect coach Claudia Anderson's exemplary example of gruff New Orleans drawl.

Whether Stanley and his buddies are playing poker illuminated by a single light bulb or Blanche is sharing her woes against a flickering candle, Writers' A Streetcar Named Desire focuses on the essentials; polished actors performing the hell out of a near-perfect script. These majestically simple moments transform Glencoe's tiny space into a dimly lit world adjacent to a noisy streetcar line. Catch this train while you still can.