After a recent conversation I felt inspired to explore film adaptations of Williams’ plays. I admire his perception of relationships, and ability to write believably from both a male and female perspective. The steamy Southern settings are endlessly fascinating and quintessentially “Williamsesque”. As are the themes of faded glamour, mental instability, poverty, fractured families, and latent homosexuality which are fundamental to many of his plays.
Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, A Streetcar Named Desire, Suddenly Last Summer, Sweet Bird Of Youth, The Glass Menagerie, and Baby Doll are the notable few that spring to mind. I visited one of his residences in New Orleans, feeling slightly overawed to be in a place once inhabited by a master of American literature.
1959’s Suddenly Last Summer starred Elizabeth Taylor, Katharine Hepburn, and Montgomery Clift. From the outset a sense of foreboding and tension is established. Mankiewicz directs the action, giving away very little, cleverly keeping us intrigued. There’s a marked contrast between the scenes set in the present, and those of the momentous summer informing the current situation.
Violet Venable dwells in denial. She goes to extraordinary lengths to protect the reputation of her dead son Sebastian who’s perfect in her eyes. Violet refuses point blank to acknowledge the reality of what he was. If his true nature and the manner in which he died are exposed, her public humiliation would be unbearable. Perhaps it would force her to face facts and confront her complicity in his lifestyle.
During their yearly Spanish summer holidays, Violet used her feminine wiles to attract men whom Sebastian would proposition. As she aged, this role fell to his cousin Catherine who witnessed his death. It traumatised her to the point of a mental breakdown and she ends up in hospital. Terrified of Catherine’s recovery, Violet tries to arrange a lobotomy for her niece to prevent this memory resurfacing. As a last resort, before proceeding with surgery, a doctor administers a truth serum to Catherine. It works and her memories begin to unfold. Catherine’s frightening depiction of how Sebastian was devoured conjures up savage images; of victims intent on revenge.
Having read the play a few times, it’s fair to say 1958’s Cat On A Hit Tin Roof was toned down for the big screen. This is a family with numerous skeletons in their closet. It starred Elizabeth Taylor as alluring Maggie, desperate for an intimate relationship with her husband. The sexual frustration emanating from the screen is palpable. Paul Newman plays Brick, the alcoholic ex school football star struggling to come to terms with the death of his gay friend Skipper. Burl Ives excels as plantation patriarch Big Daddy who’s terminally ill. His birthday celebration is the reason for this family get together.
Brick’s brother Gooper and his wife Mae have several children who they parade around like show ponies. They’re determined to discover how much of Big Daddy’s estate will become their inheritance. Big Mama, Big Daddy’s wife, announces that his health issues aren’t serious. Unfortunately the younger family members have lied about his prognosis to protect their elders. Brick and Maggie’s childless union is mentioned more than once.
In an attempt to understand his favoured son Brick, Big Daddy has a heart to heart with him centred around the subject of mendacity. It’s their first honest conversation and Big Daddy’s tough on Brick. We learn that Brick drinks to mask his feelings of disgust at turning his back on Skipper in his moment of need. Also Big Daddy’s motivation has been misguided. His success has been driven by accumulating possessions rather than loving his family. They yearned for his love as opposed to what money could buy. Big Daddy’s father died leaving him a battered old suitcase, so he was determined to leave his children a different legacy.
A Streetcar Named Desire was made in 1951, another play whose themes were deemed too taboo for the movies. Changes were made to satisfy Hollywood, leaving certain things open to interpretation. Marlon Brando’s Stanley Kowalski is an imposing presence. He jumps right out at you with his earthy masculinity. Kim Hunter’s Stella Kowalski seems drawn to her husband Stanley by an invisible force. Their passion in their love is as strong as in their fights.
Vivien Leigh’s Blanche DuBois is secretive, fragile, hurt by life. To survive she creates a genteel world, surrounding herself with finery. There’s also a fear of aging, always wanting to meet her gentlemen callers after dark in places with lampshades. Many of Stella’s actions are to maintain the emotional equilibrium of her older sister Blanche. Stanley doesn’t treat Blanche with kid gloves, actually he resents her presence. Blanche feels superior to Stanley and views him as an uncivilised brute. Karl Malden as Mitch provides a touch of class, a friend of Stanley’s who entranced by Blanche and becomes her beau.