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Brando aside, the story here is a bit questionable. Though Blanche DuBois is a tragic figure, her real past far more embarrassing and pitiable than even her fake story (which doesn’t exactly make her out to be a hero, but isn’t nearly as terrible as the truth), the relationship that she walks in on between Stanley and Stella is troubling to say the least. Though Stella ends up saying that she never wants to see Stanley again, this is the second such time that she’s made such bold declarations. Yes, I’m fully aware that she walks out on Stanley at the end because he, in a vicious and violent action, has raped Blanche and driven her into a permanent nervous breakdown, but what Stanley does before his horrendous violation is awful enough that, when Stella comes back to him, you have to wonder if the sex is really that good.

Because that’s all it can be. When Blanche confronts Stella after she returns to her husband, Stella’s already been lustily satisfied, if we can base it from the serene look on her face. Stella often admits that Stanley is nothing if not a lunkhead, but this was back when Marlon Brando didn’t look too bad to the ladies and whatever social airs he doesn’t possess, he makes up for, apparently, in the bedroom. Maybe it’s because I live in a different time and place than these characters or Tennessee Williams did, but the rank dismissal of any typical manners is baffling to me. Again, what Stanley does at the end of the play is terrible, and he deserves punishment, but because I’m also a bit cynical, I wonder how long it will be before Stella’s back in her hubby’s arms, and for what?

I think that one of the more major issues that comes up with any adaptation of a Williams play now (or, in this case, watching an older adaptation now) is that the material is dated. This is not to say that the material is bad, or that it’s poorly constructed. Being dated isn’t the same, but it’s, perhaps, more noticeable and more distracting. I watch A Streetcar Named Desire now, and I wonder not only why it was such a smashing success (though I appreciate that, in the late 1940s and early 1950s, such material was groundbreaking and shocking in its content), but I wonder why it has endured so much. The movie itself is best known for that shot of Brando shouting Stella’s name to the heavens. Brando’s performance comes second, but even the performances from Hunter, Leigh, and Karl Malden are relatively unnoticed.

Why is this? It’s not because the performances should be unnoticed; still, even within Elia Kazan’s filmography, movies such as On the Waterfront (which once again starred Brando and Malden) are more well-regarded and for good reason. On the Waterfront, for example, is an engrossing character study; that the movie manages to succeed in light of the character study really being about Kazan explaining away his naming names to the House Un-American Committee is truly exemplary. A Streetcar Named Desire doesn’t have such subtext, nor does it have the luck of feeling timely; it’s been 50-plus years since Waterfront, but that film’s not nearly as dated, and Brando’s mumbling Method style works far better there.

All of my nitpicking aside, A Streetcar Named Desire is a film worth watching, not just because of its iconic status. Featuring such titans of acting as Brando, Karl Malden, and Vivien Leigh, it’s worth checking out just to see the fireworks these people set off on screen. Going into the film, however, keep in mind that this is a plenty dated film, one that will almost seem like a dusty relic being cleaned up to be shown on Turner Classic Movies. Of course, for those of you out there who love anything Tennessee Williams wrote, this is not a movie you’ll be nitpicking. Like me when it comes to film noir, you won’t find the film dated; you’ll instead be welcomed back to the sticky-hot, sweaty, and sultry era Williams evoked in all of his writing, and with open arms.

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