Now I like Thornton Wilder a lot (not only because of Our Town and all the others, but because of this anecdote – which should be memorized by every actor/director planning on doing Our Town, because THAT is the key to the scene), but I love this put-down here from Tennessee Williams in his Memoirs. Wilder’s opinion sounds similar to Louis B. Mayer’s opinion about Streetcar, as related by Elia Kazan in his autobiography:
Louis B. Mayer sought me out to congratulate me and assure me that we’d all make a fortune … He urged me to make the author do one critically important bit of rewriting to make sure that once that “awful woman” who’d come to break up that “fine young couple’s happy home” was packed off to an institution, the audience would believe that the young couple would live happily ever after. It never occurred to him that Tennessee’s primary sympathy was with Blanche.
You know, the dark mystery and power of sex is threatening, even to very intelligent people. Maybe even more so to intelligent people. Willful blindness to it, and also refusal to side with the “sensitives”, as Williams called them. Because if you let yourself identify with Blanche … when before you would have judged her … it seriously could change your entire outlook on life forEVER, and who wants that? It’s confronting, a character like that. However, that is neither here nor there, although quite interesting. What I want to share is the excerpt from Williams’s memoir, which pretty much nails my own response to Wilder’s comment:
Streetcar opened in New Haven in early November of 1947, and nobody seemed to know what the notices were or to be greatly concerned. After the New Haven opening night we were invited to the quarters of Mr. Thornton Wilder, who was in residence there. It was like having a papal audience. We all sat about this academic gentleman while he put the play down as if delivering a papal bull. He said that it was based upon a fatally mistaken premise. No female who had ever been a lady (he was referring to Stella) could possibly marry a vulgarian such as Stanley.
We sat there and listened to him politely. I thought, privately, This character has never had a good lay.
This made me think. I’ve been reading about Louis B Mayer — the great paternalistic tyrant. He was ousted in 1951. He couldn’t understand post-war realism and didn’t like it. For him, movies were supposed to be glitz and glamour, handsome men and beautiful women. His daughter, Irene Mayer Selznick was raised to be a nice Jewish wife. Her father wouldn’t let her got to college, so she did the only thing she could do and got married to David O Selznick. They divorce, and she packs up and goes to New York against the wishes of her conservative father. She starts making herself into a theatrical producer. In New York in the 40s women simply weren’t theatrical producers. She doesn’t really know what to do, but she puts her name on her door and gets to work. She’s L B Mayer’s daughter, after all. She has one flop and then she does Streetcar. It’s the biggest play in a decade and everyone is surprised. One wonders what Louis B thought, especially with Irene now this bigshot theatrical producer? He certainly appreciated the play, he thought Brando and Jessica Tandy had tremendous qualities, but as you say — he just didn’t get it. It almost seems to me like a changing of the guard
Brilliant
Heather – Yes, I hadn’t thought of the Selznick connection with that particular anecdote – good call. Yes, Mayer must have been baffled on a couple of different fronts! Who is this “awful woman” Blanche and why won’t she leave “this nice young couple” alone? Unable to recognize that “happily ever after” would be the greatest betrayal of the material possible. And then also – his daughter’s intimate involvement with the production. Like – what?? Irene Selznick was a fascinating person. Nobody really knew what to make of her – least of all Tennessee. Like: who was she? Was she “one of us”? She was partially responsible for making Streetcar happen – a vital part of the team – but everyone was a little bit wary at first about her participation.