A Streetcar Named Desire Review: ‘you can’t take your eyes off’ Paul Mescal

To say that Paul Mescal is having a moment is an understatement. Ever since Normal People he’s become hot stuff in every way – a good-looker, a sought-after supporting player (The Lost Daughter), and leading man (Aftersun), an awards contender for the latter and surely the main reason why Rebecca Frecknall’s revival of A Streetcar Named Desire is sold out for its short run.

The run has ended up being even shorter than planned. The show’s December opening had to be postponed when Lydia Wilson was forced to pull out because of injury. Patsy Ferran gallantly stepped in as a replacement and she meshes so well with Mescal and Anjana Vasan it’s hard to imagine a different dynamic in a production that, after her stunning rethink of Cabaret, marks Frecknall as one of the most daring directors currently working across London stages.

We know Mescal from TV and films but before Normal People made him (and his neck chain) a star the Dubliner did lots of theatre in his native Ireland. That explains his command of the stage here, where he plays Stanley Kowalski  – playwright Tennessee Williams’ most coveted leading role for macho males, famously played by Marlon Brando in the 1951 film version.

Thuggish Kowalski is married to expectant mother Stella and it is into their shabby New Orleans home that Stella’s sister Blanche DuBois swans on a visit when she’s down on her luck. Heads butt because Stanley doesn’t care for Blanche’s highfaluting snobbiness and she finds him common and bestial. He’s prone to rages, she is prone to pretence, and Stella is caught in the middle, aware of her husband’s crassness but addicted to the danger and sex.

Seven-plus decades since Williams penned the play, Blanche’s mental unravelling – fuelled by alcohol and self-delusion – is very current, and Frecknall strips away the usual sets and period costumes to give it a contemporary feel. The drama plays out on a bare and brutal central stage, with the company handing up props, a drummer thumping ominously away on a raised gantry, and ghosts weaving through the action.

The drumming is sometimes a bit overdone and those slow-motion spectres are something of a cliché, as are downpours of rain, although the rain is effectively used and nothing gets in the way of the performances.

Vasan perfectly nails Stella’s lust for and fear of a husband who can’t keep his hands off her. Mescal’s Kowalski uses his muscles as tools of intimidation, spitting venom as he cries “I’m the king around here”, occasionally a lamb but mostly a lion. Whether puffing up his chest or prowling on all fours, you can’t take your eyes off him.

The same goes for Ferran, whose Blanche is a whirligig of emotion and whose eventual breakdown is devastating. Amusingly flighty to begin with, she’s like a delicate little bird who finally crashes into a window, leaving you stirred and shaken to the core.

Rating: 4/5

A Streetcar Named Desire is at the Almeida, London, until 4 February. Get tickets here.