In my final year at UCLA back in 2006, a 20th Century American Drama course introduced me to the profound work of Thomas “Tennessee” Williams, a titan of mid-century American playwrights. Williams’ plays are known for their pervasive melancholy, a defining characteristic of 1950s and 60s American drama, reflecting a literary era where grappling with sadness seemed almost a prerequisite for serious artistic recognition.
Among his masterpieces, A Streetcar Named Desire stands out as a particularly poignant drama. While perhaps not as existentially bleak as Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh or Long Day’s Journey Into Night (O’Neill truly reigned supreme in portraying world-weary despair), Streetcar delves into the tragic story of Blanche DuBois. Blanche is a woman teetering on the brink of a mental and emotional collapse, a victim of societal pressures and, more acutely, the brutal actions of her brother-in-law, Stanley Kowalski, memorably brought to life by Marlon Brando.
The play debuted on Broadway in 1947 and became an instant sensation, catapulting Brando to stardom. A film adaptation followed shortly after, reuniting the original Broadway cast and adding Vivien Leigh as Blanche to enhance its star power. This was a gritty, working-class drama that fearlessly explored raw emotions and the harsh realities of life. While such themes were becoming more common in theater by the late 1940s, it was still groundbreaking for a major 1951 Hollywood film to depict a lead character committing sexual assault, making the subject matter remarkably provocative for its time.
However, Streetcar’s true revolution lay in its acting. Before 1951, Hollywood was largely dominated by movie stars – figures like Cary Grant and Humphrey Bogart. These were charismatic personalities who carried films with their screen presence, but often lacked the capacity to deeply internalize and subtly convey complex human emotions. Marlon Brando changed this paradigm. Reading Streetcar as a play for my UCLA course, like many dramatic works on paper, felt somewhat detached. Plays often require the alchemy of casting, acting, staging, lighting, and the palpable energy of live performance to fully ignite.
Therefore, I sought out the film adaptation. Watching Marlon Brando in Streetcar Named Desire was a revelation. It was one of those cinematic moments that expands your understanding of what film can achieve. Brando’s portrayal of Stanley Kowalski is electric. He exudes an almost animalistic magnetism and raw charisma, a captivating power that is simply mesmerizing. The iconic “Stella” scene is widely celebrated, but it’s the nuanced subtleties in Brando’s performance that truly captivated me. Stanley Kowalski is conceived as both man and beast, and Brando, through his speech, movement, and demeanor, embodied this duality in all its intricate complexity, transmitting it powerfully through the screen.
Marlon Brando and Vivien Leigh in a scene from “Streetcar Named Desire”, showcasing the intense emotion and groundbreaking performances that defined the film.
Brando’s performance fundamentally altered cinema. While film historians might point to earlier proponents of Method acting, for me, 1951 marks a turning point. Brando arguably deserved the Oscar for Streetcar that year, as it remains arguably more impactful and significant than On the Waterfront, for which he later won in 1954. Brando’s naturalistic acting style stood in stark contrast to the prevalent Hollywood acting conventions of the pre-Streetcar era. This seismic shift influenced subsequent landmark performances, such as James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause.
Old Hollywood can effectively be divided into two epochs: before Streetcar and after. It’s difficult to imagine how audiences, having witnessed Marlon Brando’s transformative performance as Stanley Kowalski, could revert to appreciating earlier, more conventional Hollywood fare without recognizing the profound difference in performance styles. Cinema, post-Streetcar, was irrevocably changed, ushering in a new era of acting that prioritized emotional depth and realism.
