Scarlett Johansson's voluptuous draw had the theater packed with 20-somethings clamoring to share airspace with the star, and none seemed to be prepared to absorb Tennessee Williams' cruel truths, a perfect blindside that any writer drools over. The poor bastards never knew what hit them.
The last time I read The Glass Menagerie I was in high school. This weekend, two friends and I went to the Seattle Rep's production, and we couldn't help but see our mother-selves reflected in this 1940s version of a modern-day helicopter parent.
As she discussed her role in the Tennessee Williams play that seems destined for Broadway, she remained unassuming, humble, down-to-earth, smart, funny and roll-up-her-sleeves hard working. No wonder Chicago has received her so willingly.
Director David Cromer talked aging, optimism vs. pessimism, and his newest play, a revival of Tennessee Williams' Sweet Bird of Youth starring Diane Lane and Finn Wittrock at the Goodman Theatre. Previews begin Sept. 14.
This summer, I found myself re-reading Alice Walker's The Color Purple, a book that is both wonderful and awful. After finishing, I asked myself, "Why do some books by great authors (or parts of books by great authors) work so well, while others fail?"
Vidal had no self-doubt. He used his legendary intellect in the service of opinions that drew blood. Feuds thrilled him. And he never lost the swagger that comes from knowing that -- at least in his youth -- he was a stunner. Want a guided tour?
Two Tennessee Williams plays in New York City, the revival of A Streetcar Named Desire at the Broadhurst on Broadway, and the world premiere of his last experimental work, In Masks Outrageous and Austere, at Culture Project, may cause a laugh riot.
When you sit through something as ludicrous as Williams's last play -- or so we're led to believe of a manuscript cobbled together by other peddler-meddlers -- you spend much of the time wondering whom the roiling cauldron of picked-over Williams obsessions serves.
Aspiring writers are often encouraged to "write what you know." But when dramatists and screenwriters reach a certain level of success, they sometimes opt to vent their professional frustrations in a creative work that bears an uncanny resemblance to their personal lives.
Many children go to bed on Christmas Eve dreaming that Santa Claus will come down their chimney (even if they live in an apartment building) and leave presents for them under the family's Christmas tree. As most adults know, that just isn't how things work.