a streetcar named desire by tennessee williams

thank you, i hated this.

read williams, they said. he’s like american checkhov, they said.
well, i call bullshit.
if everything else from tennessee williams is like this, then do not compare him to checkhov, genius who can engage and capture even the most stench haters of theatre.

the only reason why i read this play till the end is because it’s short. everything felt both over the top and flatly dull. celluloid stick figures in cardboard house.

i don’t think this play holds up to the test of time even for american readers, let alone international audience.

p.s. photo has an non-book easter egg