Ballet isn’t always pretty, there are plenty of examples in repertoires across the world. Perhaps rather innocently, I thought the likes of MacMillan’s Manon and Mayerling were as tough as things got. However, to witness John Neumeier’s Streetcar Named Desire (Endstation Sehnsucht) with Ballett am Rhein is to reach another level of grim but gripping brutality told through dance. Based on Tennessee Williams 1947 play, and first performed by Stuttgart Ballet in 1983, Neumeier places the psychological torment of the protagonist, Blanche DuBois, front and centre to powerfully retell her story.
Neumeier’s creation is a rather uneven take. It deviates quite drastically from the play to focus on the demise of DuBois’ marriage in a short first act, to then give way to the loud and pulsating environment of New Orleans and all that follows in a lengthier act two.
We meet Blanche (Sophie Martin) in a mental institute, her prior turmoil leaving her stiff and rigid, frozen to the edge of her bed. It’s an image we will return to several times. Martin’s Blanche is fragile and brittle, her expression notable for its blankness, like a part of her soul has already left. The choreography starts slowly, her long legs spiky and skittish in an uncomfortably long, silent opening scene before a flashback to her wedding day.
Responsible not only for the choreography, but also the staging, costume and lighting, Neumeier’s depiction of Blanche’s childhood home, the Belle Rêve, is rather dreary. The wedding guests wear muted pastel shades and Sergei Prokofiev’s meandering and uneven, Visions Fugitives creates a restless backdrop.
Blanche’s groom, Allan Gray (Gustavo Carvalho) is stern and distracted, exchanging many pained glances with his ‘friend’ (Dukin Seo). Tension prickles slowly beneath the surface and Martin and Carvalho dance a soft but emotionally distant duet, her veil covering her face. The pace is frustratingly sedate at times. Later, the two men share an impassioned dance, culminating in a kiss before they are discovered. There’s a powerful image of an anguished Blanche holding an outstretched arm with flexed fingers against the face of her groom. She trembles as her surroundings begin to crumble. The opulent chandelier and the majestic pillars of her residence, all slowly falling to the ground.
Act 2 sits closer to the original play and tracks Blanche’s experiences in New Orleans, with her sister, Stella and her brutish husband, Stanley (Olgert Collaku). Neumeier’s crowd scenes are skilfully crafted for the boxing match that sees Stanley take on Mitch (Nelson López Garlo), the noise and chaos of the city is tangible and stifling. We see Blanche return, Martin’s slow, tentative steps, wide-eyes and white satin dress contrasting with the exuberant city dwellers, their glittering costumes and brash movements.
Collaku is initially full of macho bravado in his pursuit of Blanche which develops into something much more sinister and predatory in the lead up to the rape scene. In the play, it takes place offstage, but Neumeier leans into it. The head of the metal bed frame moved centre stage, it’s aggressive and graphically depicted. Alfred Schnittke’s Symphony Number 1 flairs dramatically in response.
There is some welcome distinction in the kindness shown to her by López Garlo’s Mitch, respectable and sincere in his pinstripe suit. Martin melts like butter in his arms. The storytelling takes centre stage throughout but her unflappable technique amongst all the pain and suffering conveyed is seamlessly woven in; her feet always so neatly crossed, clean lines and fine control in the many lifts and throws from various partners which fill her journey. She is barely ever off the stage, it’s a supreme endurance test where she succeeds as both a dancer and actress.
A word too for Clara Nougé-Cazenave, as Blanche’s sister, Stella. Loose limbed but with an easy elegance; animalistic and passionate, with a shrug of nonchalance. She flings her loose hair around with abandon, compared to Martin’s awkward primness.
As you have perhaps gathered, Neumeier’s interpretation of the literary classic is not an easy watch, the second act is particularly engrossing and likely to leave you feeling a little weak or numb in your seat. Martin’s portrayal of Blanche’s fragility will be sure to leave an imprint on audiences. Theatre is so often disposable, this may leave you reeling for a while to come.
