If you're like me, the only thing you know about this movie, going in, is that it involves
Marlon Brandon in a Fruit of the Loom undershirt, screaming "Stella!" for some reason. Also that it's by Tennessee Williams, that beloved of high school English curriculum, with
The Glass Menagerie.
Well, I read
The Glass Menagerie in high school, and it creeped me the hell out. I'm not saying it was a
bad read, but between the CA-RAAAAZY mother and poor little possibly autistic Laura, I could easily imagine the play being remade into a horror movie. And maybe it
was...
But Mr. Williams was rather
fond of the lads...and
Brando in a wifebeater must have turned on more than a few of them, even back in the closeted 50s. So it seemed like good material for this blog.
For clarity's sake, I watched "
The Original Director's Version", which has 3 extra minutes of footage compared to the version you may have seen. Assuming you've seen it. Surely my readers aren't as ignorant as me, whose childhood consisted of multiple, forced viewings of classic films such as
Son in Law (Steven Tyler PJs!) and the original release of
Hairspray (yes, that's Sonny Bono).
So now that I have thoroughly established myself as an uncultured ignoramus, let's get back to Marlon Brando before he turned into this:
Brando is the one on the right.
We begin the movie with cabs and trains and a stridently noirish saxophone. We are in old New Orleans. The virginal Blanche DuBois emerges from a cloud of steam. You will soon learn that Blanche is somewhat less than virginal, but in these early scenes, she seems vulnerable and naive. She asks an out of focus sailor for directions, explaining, "They told me to take a streetcar named Desire and transfer to one named Cemetery." This is already a beautifully shot film, but clearly not one for subtlety...
Blanche winds up in a neighborhood that reminds me of walking down Rivington one night, looking for
ABC No Rio. Except that, whereas I was surrounded by overdressed yuppies leaving bars,
Blanche has hookers and men carrying chickens by their feet to contend with. She's looking for her sister Stella's house, but Stella's out. Blanche asks a neighbor where to find her. Despite first impressions, it's NOT at a brothel or an opium den...no, Stella is very prosaically "watching her husband bowl".
This is not entirely correct.
Actually, Stella is watching her husband BRAWL (albeit at a bowling alley), and she seems to be quite turned on by it, too. We, and Blanche, are aghast.
So we, and Blanche, go out for a drink with Stella. We soon learn that Blanche is rather neurotic, and that she has recently left her job teaching English. She needs a place to stay. And she's "so hot and dirty and tired". The two sisters compliment each other's appearance, and order more drinks.
Sounds like the makings of a good time to me! Except that they're
sisters. And that's gross.
The next scene reveals that,
fancy wrought iron staircase aside, Stella's living arrangements are little better than a squat. Blanche is very concerned about the lack of doors: "Will Stanley be decent?" "Oh, Stanley is Polish, you know," replies Stella, which seems like it should be a Polish joke about being too stupid to wear clothes properly. Since Stanley is rarely seen wearing much more than an undershirt, maybe it is.
The close personal contact between the two sisters in this scene begins to set off my
gaydar. Blanche of course has to ruin it by getting wild-eyed and crazy, talking about the loss of the family home and reciting poetry about death.
Jeez. This might have been cute in high school, but now I know better than to pine for goth chicks!
Now we have Brando's -- I mean, Stanley's -- formal entrance. He's
so sweaty and nonchalant, such a contrast to the two sister's stagey acting. It's like he's stepped into this movie from the
future. You almost expect him to be in full technicolor, the Land of Oz to Stella and Blanche's Kansas. As he explains to Blanche, he's sweaty because he's been "exercising hard [...] bowling".
Brando, I mean Stanley, seems most amused by the sexual power he holds over the two ladies. He's much more amused by it than he is interested in Stella's kisses and caresses, or Blanche's eyelash fluttering.
He is hot and he knows it. Sure, his slurred speech makes him sound like he's taken too many shots to the head, but he looks good in tight T-shirts, so it doesn't matter too much and
might even be a selling point. Blanche certainly doesn't seem to mind yet. She's flirting with him like a little Southern hussy.
"HOW ABOUT CUTTING THE REBOP?!!" suggests Stanley, and the next thing you know, Blanche is gibbering to Stella about babies...and
rockets...and adultery.
She is giving bisexual women a bad name. So, Stanley's playing poker with a
Mexican stereotype (we know he's Mexican because he wears a funny hat), and another guy in a hat who thinks domestic violence is funny, and Mitch, who is balding, and has
a weird lump on his nose. Stella tries to break the game up, but Stanley hits her.
Meanwhile, Blanche is flirting with everything wearing pants. She is coming on strong to Mitch, even though Mitch looks like
Al Bundy. It dawns on me that she only flirts with women when there aren't any men around to molest. She sure has a lot in common with the girls I knew in high school...and she reinforces this impression with attention seeking behaviours, such as playing bad music too loud, and wearing skimpy clothing.
Stanley thankfully ends her mentally unstable mating ritual by throwing the radio out the window. That's exactly what I wanted to do, too. But then he beats Stella up, which is mean. There's a bunch of confusing "roofah", and it all ends with four sweaty, muscular young men in a shower together. As a wise man once said, "
Ho yay!"
Or maybe "
STELLLLAAAAAAAA!", because that's the next scene.
Stella and a soaking-wet Stanley make out, with Blanche chasing after them, in pursuit of the most hellishly concieved threesome this side of
No Exit. Now it's Stella's turn to be mentally unstable, as she explains to Blanche afterward that Stanley's abuse isn't alarming or traumatic, that it is actually quite arousing. If I were Blanche, I would say, "Masochism is one thing.
Stockholme syndrome is quite another." I mean, I've known some people in abusive relationships...but they were not specifically TURNED ON by the abuse. Even people into whips and spanking would generally disapprove of getting beaten up in front of their husband's poker buddies during a drunken rage.
The scene continues with more
sisterly love. At several moments, I am certain that the famous "Tennesee Williams lesbian sex scene" is about to begin...but alas. Of course Stella is in her slip, because
people in New Orleans hate to wear clothing. And it really does not help the case for heterosexuality that Blanche is trying to convince Stella to leave her husband. In fact, the look on Blanche's face when Stella runs up and hugs Stanley is priceless. Yet it also raises the question: why all this competition for Stella? She's not a tremendous looker and she seems even slower than Stanley Kowalski himself. But then again, I felt the same about
Britney Spears circa 1999, so maybe I'm just tough to impress...
Hmm...Stella would definitely be a big fan of "
Hit Me Baby, One More Time". She'd karaoke the
hell out of that shit.
Next scene: more domestic violence, this time NOT by Stanley. Stanley does give Blanche a bit of a talking to, though, concerning her, and men, and cheap hotels. Blanche mentions to Stella something about "turning the trick", but Stella tells her that she never listens to her when she's being morbid. That's probably the safest way to go.
"Honey," she tells the already toasted Blanche, "don't take another drink." If only she had sense enough to say the same thing to her husband...
Thankfully,
the paperboy arrives. Blanche reverts to
femme bot mode. In her defense, he
is quite well-dressed for a paperboy. He is wearing more clothing than Stella and Stanley combined. We learn from their conversation that "cherries make [Blanche's] mouth water." Indeed! "Did anybody ever tell you you look like
a prince out of Arabian nights?" asks Blanche. "You do, honey lamb." I hope all the pick up artists out there are taking notes.
Once again, Blanche has to wrench away any
voyeuristic pleasure you may be deriving from her actions: "
I've got to be good and keep my hands off children." Then her boyfriend, Mitch arrives.
I sure hope he doesn't marry her...
Blanche is
a moody bastard on their date. "I don't think I've ever tried so hard to be gay," she says, by way of apology. Quit lying, Blanche! You try very, very hard. It just gets more awkward from there. I begin to suspect that Blanche is just leading poor Mitch along, to serve as a cover for hot, nasty, paperboy sex. They are going to get married, and she is going to have babies that aren't his, and it will be
just like that story by Isaac Singer. I mean, Jerry Springer.
Just when you think it can't get any worse, Blanche starts talking about her ex-boyfriend. The dead one. The one she made commit suicide. Mitch, naturally enough, kisses her. I would be
jumping off the pier and swimming to Cuba.
Next, we have Stanley yelling. He's on the job, but that doesn't stop him from yelling. Nothing,
nobody, stops Stanley Kowalski from yelling. Mitch wants to punch him, because he said something mean yet doubtlessly true about Blanche. The next scene has Stanley saying lots of mean yet true (and honestly hilarious), things about Blanche. Meanwhile, Blanche swishes around and sings in French, oblivious or perhaps just insane.
Although Stanley is very funny, and has saved Mitch from the worst marriage in the world (next to his own), he still comes across as a self-serving dick. He wants Stella to himself; he does not want to share her with incestuous, bisexual, sexually loose Southern belle pedophiles with severe mood disorders. That would
almost be fine, except that he beats the crap out of his wife and willfully manipulates her.
Can things get any worse? Yes!
Blanche emerges from the bathroom and it's back to
Crazytown. She appears to be downright delusional as she begs Stanley to tell her a funny story. By now, it is certain that this will not end well...it will not even end
badly...it will end
horribly. You will wet your pants.
"
Do you like parrot stories?" Blanches asks vivaciously.
No, Blanche, I do not. Just...just...
JUST STOP TALKING AND LEAVE.
FOR YOUR SAKE, FOR EVERYONE'S SAKE, JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND RUN, RUN AWAY, AS FAST AS YOU CAN.So what does she do? She tells the parrot story.
Stanley smashes things, which is both shocking and not shocking at all, considering his character and the circumstances (I hate parrot stories, too). Then we are reminded that
Stella is pregnant. Because the best thing to do to a fucked up, failing marriage is to bring a child into it.
Stanley makes
a lovely little speech about his Polish heritage. This would be heroic, except that he's screaming at a trembling woman on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Then he gives Blanche a bus ticket out of New Orleans, in case you still felt positively about him, for some reason.
Then Stella goes into labor.
Can things get any worse? Hell yes!
A thoroughly drunk Blanche has yet another awkward conversation with Mitch. Did I say "
awkward"? I meant
terrifying. I meant psychotic and brutal.
"I was fool enough to believe you were straight," says Mitch, to unintentionally lighten the mood.
"Straight? What's straight?" asks the crazy lady. She gets to ranting again. Ominous music plays. Mitch kisses her. Cue the strobe lights. Cue the crazed screaming.
Can things
possibly get any worse? Sure, why not?!
Blanche goes
completely batshit crazy. Now, she wasn't exactly stable before, so you really have to see her now.
It defies description. Of course Stanley saunters in as she's talking to herself. Where's my Xanax?
"Let's have a little rough house," suggests Stanley. And by that he means rape.
Blanche is now completely, double dog dare,
super saiyan batshit crazy. She is so crazy, that even the crazy people around her want to put her in a home. And just when you think to yourself, "Things can not, simply CAN NOT get any worse. We have truly hit the pit bottom of insanity," there's a picture of the baby. And then the psychiatrists arrive. And then Blanche starts thrashing around wildly like she's having a seizure...
This is
almost unbearable. This is almost like high school.
In sum, this movie's idea of a happy ending is to have a battered wife take her baby in her arms, and run to the neighbors as her husband screams at her.
I think that from now on, I will only review lighter fare, such as
Black Swan.
This is a very good, and very homoerotic movie, don't get me wrong. But Tennessee Williams scares the SHIT out of me.
