|Photo by Joseph Marzullo/WENN|
It means "white woods, like an orchard in spring — you can remember it by that, if you care to," but on April 22 A Streetcar Named Desire pulled into the Broadhurst with Broadway's first African-American Blanche DuBois. She was in a state of contained disarray, confused, disoriented, needing directions. "I'm looking for my sister, Stella DuBois," she says to a kind stranger. "I mean, Mrs. Stanley — "
"That's the party," the stranger shot back, cutting "Kowalski" off at the pass and leaving Tennessee Williams' classic play free for its first multi-racial rendition. Nicole Ari Parker is the faded Southern belle of the occasion, more on the cusp of decline than over-the-hill, teetering fragilely, but with a not entirely extinct sense of style. Anybody who's been up for the NAACP Image Award seven times running for her role on Showtime's "Soul Food" knows how to keep it together.
"Blanche is usually cast much more mature," she allowed. "It's a dream come true, for real. It's not just a bumper sticker. Dreams do come true. I would love to tell young actors and actresses: 'Don't give up.' I waited 20 years for this phone call."
At a recent Wednesday matinee, something was certainly out of sorts. No sooner had she strolled into her new home-away-from home than she accidentally laid claim to it. The front door, much traumatized by Stanley's slamming exits and entrances, refused to open, not for sister Stella (Daphne Rubin-Vega) and not even for the testy lord of the manor (Blair Underwood). Parker had Rubin-Vega walk through the [invisible] wall of Eugene Lee's wrought-iron, open-air set. Then, struggling to keep the theatrical magic alive, she opened a window for Stanley to walk through. Talk about "meeting cute"! A regular handyman around the house, Stanley removed his T-shirt (to some audible swoons) and tied it to both sides of the door knob to prevent other catastrophes. The actors blithely plowed through all of the above.
Parker can now laugh about that stage malfunction: "The beauty of the theatre is that real life has to happen in real time, and we have to deal with it," she said. "We were all on our toes, and the audience was so generous and really supported us through that snafu. Who said it? 'There's no distraction, only potential inspiration.'"
Underwood has always had three great roles on his bucket list — Hamlet, Stanley and Walter Lee in A Raisin in the Sun— and now, finally, there's movement on that front: "I always thought I wouldn't necessarily have an opportunity to play Stanley Kowalski, he being Polish and all, but the fact that [lead producer] Stephen Byrd has been able to secure the rights to this production, as he did with Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, made it a possibility. When I even thought there might be a possibility to do it, I jumped at the chance."
He has the hormone count for Stanley down pat, but rarely have we seen a meaner one. The actor has no problem at justifying his character's brutality. "Look what Blanche is doing to Stanley, look what she's doing to his life," he pointed out. "I'm a parent of three kids, and anybody who has children knows when that first child enters your life, a whole sense of nesting and protecting enters the picture.
"That's part of Stanley's dynamic, too. We don't talk a lot about it, but he has a child that's coming, and that whole Napoleonic code thing is serious business for him. If Belle Reve and the family insurance policies are going to help him provide for his family — he's a blue collar kind of guy — then he's going to go for it. For that to be taken away from him makes no sense at all, and he's hopping mad about that."
Did he think the marriage would last long after Blanche's cruel exit? It didn't in the movie, thanks to the censors of the time (1952). "In the movie, the ending was such a big issue with the Breen Office," Underwood remembered. "At the end Stella leaves him because they felt Stanley had to be punished. It's not in the play. That's not what Tennessee Williams wrote. Personally, I think the marriage would have lasted. It's highly dysfunctional, but, like many dysfunctional marriages, I think it would last."
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