The plays of Tennessee Williams seem somehow resistant to change. While the prologue to The Glass Menagerie hints at contemporary parallels with its mention of economic downturn, strikes and foreign wars, directors and audiences alike are drawn back to Williams’ world of tram cars, tenement buildings and faded Southern belles. Whereas the New Vic’s previous production, Carmen, updated the action from Spain to a modern shopping centre, The Glass Menagerie is firmly located in the faded glamour of the 1930s American South.
The Glass Menagerie was produced in association with another fine rep theatre, the Oldham Coliseum, and unusually for the Vic, the action of the play is entirely contained within one set, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere from which the characters struggle to escape. The cast of four is also small, placing a lot of responsibility on some inexperienced young actors, especially Laura, who begins the play as a marginal, timid figure but grows in significance during the second half, sharing a great deal of the dialogue, and undergoing the greatest emotional disruption.
The Glass Menagerie is considered to be Williams’s most autobiographical play, and the first half is deeply introspective. Amanda, a shrill old Southern Belle, frets over the future security of her daughter; Tom, played with wry assurance by James Joyce (not that one), broods, restlessly, straining against the responsibility of providing for his female relatives; Laura exists in the shadows, distanced from life by her shyness and her crippled leg. The only hints of a world outside are provided by the strains of the Charleston from the dance house across the road. Each character seeks escape through their own means, in memory for Amanda, the movies for Tom, and for Laura, her collection of glass animals.
If there is a problem with the play, it is that the first half can seem like a non-event; Tom’s opening monologue makes clear that the real action of the play will occur in the second half, and this sense of anticipation overshadows the first half like a Pinter villain. While the domestic squabbles of Tom’s family are essential to the plot, the characters’ sense of frustration and entrapment can cause a feeling of ennui in the audience.
It is in the second half that the play picks up in pace, and Laura comes into her own as the character with the greatest depth, assisted by an energetic and charismatic Jim (played by Harry Livingstone), who breathes the fresh air of ambition into the staid Wingfield household. Lacking their sense of disappointment and frustration, he briefly opens up the possibility of a different kind of life, before Laura’s dream is cruelly crushed.
The play is well staged, adapting comfortably to performance in the round, and the set is designed with great eye for detail, creating a compact domestic space without appearing cluttered. It is also encouraging to see excellent performances by three young actors; James Joyce has a knowing air, and good comic delivery, Harry Livingstone is engagingly self-assured, and Katie Moore takes on her character superbly, transforming from a hand-wringing wreck in the first half to a complex and interesting lead during the second. Louise Bangay as Amanda is entertaingly hysterical, with her ‘Oh ma lawd’ mannerisms. The Glass Menagerie lacks some of the dramatic punch of plays such as A Streetcar Names Desire, but the script is beautifully crafted. This may be the play’s weakness in fact; the script possibly offers more to the reader than to an audience. Overall, however, it is a play and a production worth seeing.
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