A Streetcar Named Desire- Extended Scene
Summary: My aim for this scene was to extended on Blanche’s past relationship with Allan and how his death signalled the end of happiness in her life, her reliance on fantasy, and the beginning of her descent into madness. In the original play the theme of fantasy versus reality runs right through it, playing a key part in the play. It is most present in the character of Blanche who depends on fantasies to get through the harshness of reality. I wanted to show how this dependence on a fantasy-driven life first began for Blanche, who decided to ignore the realities of her husband’s true self in order to continue living like everything in her life was fine. I loosely used Allan to explore
this theme too as he is also trying to live in a fantasy world instead of facing up to the reality that is his true sexuality. There are moments in this scene where reality does manage to peek through the fantasy world Blanche and Allan are living in, though, such as the Windows speech from Allan and the moment where they bump into another couple. This moment here can be seen as reality literally interrupting their fantasy world, causing Blanche to suddenly admit the truth to Allan which eventually leads to his death.
The main actions in this scene was mostly psychological as both characters do not want to voice the truth of what occurred earlier. This scene is very much one that relies on subtext and reading between the lines instead of focusing on what is being said, especially at the beginning of the scene. This dramatic style of never quite facing the realities of life is present in the original play, so I decided to use it throughout this scene to mimic the original.
I used different elements throughout the scene to focus on lesser themes such as youth and history that is also explored in the original play. In the original play Blanche refuses to be seen in light as it represents a past that she no longer has. In this scene she is bathed in it, accenting her youth and Allan’s presence, who she once said was like a “blinding light” in her life. When Allan dies, though, darkness takes over. This signals the end of her happiness and the beginning of her descent into madness. The Varsouviana Polka also plays as a significant element in this scene. A tune that sticks with adult Blanche whenever she thinks about Allan, this plays while the pair dance in the Casino. It stops when the gun goes off, much like how adult Blanche only stops hearing it when she hears a gunshot. Afterwards, low jungle cries take over as a hint to Blanche’s descent into madness.
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Scene: The Moon Lake Casino, 10+ years before the events in A Streetcar Named
Desire. People of all ages, gender, and social status are dancing, drinking, and
gambling inside the large building. The laughs and loud voices are layered over one
another, the music just audible over the sounds. Away from the gambling tables and slot
machines lies the dancefloor. It is filled with moving bodies clad in sparkling dresses
and classy suits. The lights shining high above are bright and colourful, bathing
everyone and reflecting off their shimmering forms. Beneath these lights and dancing
together is a young, teenage BLANCHE and her husband, ALLAN GREY. BLANCHE is
young and beautiful, the lights accenting her youth. ALLAN is just as young and just
as handsome, his movements slightly off-point as he spins his wife around.
BLANCHE: Oh, my! [she giggles happily as ALLAN pulls her back towards him, her
eyes bright from the effects of the alcohol in her system.] Oh, my! Allan, you have
always been the most perfect dancer! I feel like a princess in a fairytale when you spin
me. Do it again!
[With a soft, near hesitant smile ALLAN obliges, twirling her once more.]
BLANCHE: Wonderful, darling! A true princess, that’s how I feel. A true princess with
her true prince. All that I’m missing is my tiara! Ha-ha!
[She laughs loudly, throwing her head back towards the lights. ALLAN joins in, his
laughter far softer than BLANCHE’ s. He stares down at his shoes, his mood noticeably
less energetic than his wife. BLANCHE- noticing this- pulls away from him before
gesturing at herself.]
BLANCHE: I only just realized that in our mad dash out of the house you never
complimented me on my attire! [She shakes her head before giving him a teasing tap on
the nose.] Tut-tut, Allan, dear! How rude of you!
ALLAN: Oh- uh- yes, indeed! How very rude of me. Forgive me, Blanche, love. You look
positively delightful.
BLANCHE: Don’t you think? I picked out the dress specially, you know how it just
sparkles like a jewel beneath the right lights. However, now that I think about it, perhaps
the furs would’ve been better…
ALLAN: Oh, no, love! No, you look beautiful in this dress. You made the right choice in
wearing it here. You look stunning.
[BLANCHE happily drinks up the compliments, giving her husband a dazzling smile.
ALLAN smiles back at her, although it is not as wide as hers. He pulls her flush against
his body, resting his head on top of her soft blonde hair as they dance.]
ALLAN: My wife. My young, lovely, darling wife. My wife… [The way he says this
sounds more like a reminder to himself than a compliment to BLANCHE. BLANCHE however, does not pick up on this. Instead she cooed appreciatively, clinging to him to
keep herself from stumbling in her drunken haze.]
BLANCHE: I think we should come here more often, don’t you think?
ALLAN [unsure, hesitant, as though something more pressing is on his mind]: Oh, well,
um, maybe-
BLANCHE [interrupting]: I never noticed it before but this place is just so magical!
Perhaps it’s the alcohol speaking, but don’t you think that this is such a wonderful
place? It’s like a little slice of perfect paradise.
ALLAN [suddenly]: There are no windows.
BLANCHE: Pardon, love?
ALLAN: There are no windows. It’s as though this… this world in here, with its flashing
lights and laughter and music, is just…
[BLANCHE - whose smile had been wide and hopeful as her husband spoke- falters
slightly. A crack seems to appear in the facade she has put up for ALLAN and herself.
In the background, low and haunting, soft jungle cries sound.]
ALLAN [continuing]: ...this all keeps out the real world out there. It’s dark out there... [his
voice has dropped to a whisper, a hint of fear entering it. He seems oblivious to
BLANCHE’ s wide, panicked eyes, too far gone in his own world to pay attention to his
wife at the time.] That’s why there are no windows. Keeps it all out. Keeps it all away.
[A change occurs in the music, the low jungle cries disappearing. Instead, the
Varsouviana Polka begins. People all around them get into position to begin the dance.
Excitedly, desperately, BLANCHE tugs on her husband’s arm.]
BLANCH [loudly]: Oh, Allan! I love this dance! You wouldn’t leave me without a dance
partner, would you?
[ALLAN blinks, returning to the present and realizing that he still has a part to play, for
BLANCHE ’s sake at least. He smiles, taking her hand and kissing it.]
ALLAN: I would never do that to you, my love.
[As the music picks up the couple dance, BLANCHE gripping her husband’s hand
tightly, a forced smile on her face. Beside her ALLAN mirrors her look. However he is
not as great an actor as she is. His eyes betray him, displaying the truth about things
that have been seen but gone unsaid.]
BLANCHE: I’ve been thinking about when we first met. Do you remember?
ALLAN: Of course.
BLANCHE: I was wearing my favourite pearls that my father had brought me,
remember? And you were sitting in the sun by the flowers like a prince or a greek God. I
didn’t think you were real. I thought I had imagined you for a moment, can you imagine
that? Ha-ha! [With a little smile ALLAN chuckles as well.] Luckily for me, you were real. I
fell completely in love with you just like that.
[ALLAN looks down at BLANCHE and for the first time that night he really smiles. It is
hopeful, as though anything that might’ve occurred in the past was all just a bad dream.]
ALLAN: As pretty as a rose you were. No, are. You are, love.
BLANCHE [smiling softly]: You wrote me poems after that day. You’ve always been so
talented in the art of poetry, darling. Your words always manage to take me to new
worlds and places I could never have imagined on my own. So sweet.
[BLANCHE looks up at him, a dreamy look on her face. She stares at him as though
the world revolves around him, as though he were the light in her life. ALLAN softly cups
her face with one hand.]
BLANCHE: Such a good boy. Such a sweet, kind little lamb. My husband.
ALLAN: My wife… [He looks away from her then, a feeling of guilt washing over him.]
Blanche-
BLANCHE [interrupting him]: No, don’t speak, honey lamb. I love this song and the
lights and the laughter and the people. So perfect…
[ALLAN frowns, swallowing loudly. Any hope that he had been feeling beforehand is
now wavering. A slightly worried look comes across his face, one that BLANCHE cannot
see.]
BLANCHE [continuing]: Yes, I do like this place. We will have to come back here more
often-
ALLAN [with a note of sadness in his voice]: Because it’s magical.
BLANCHE: Exactly, darling!
ALLAN [desperately]: Blanche, I...
BLANCHE: Now, now, Allan, dear! You seem so tense! Don’t be, darling, we’re having
fun, aren’t we? See, we’re dancing!
[BLANCHE pulls away from him, twirling herself underneath his arm, laughing all the
while. She doesn’t seem to notice the distress her husband is feeling, too caught up in
her facade. ALLAN, meanwhile, looks like he has reached breaking point. The need to
discuss what occurred early seems to be tearing him at the seams. He is scared and
worried, staring at BLANCHE now like she will disappear from his sight if he dare look
away. The polka music grows louder, drowning out the chatter of everyone else in the
background of the room.]
ALLAN [rapidly]: Do you ever think about reality?
BLANCHE: Reality? Oh, Allan, what are you talking about? We’re too young to be
thinking about reality! Come now, you’re not doing the proper steps to the dance-
[A miscalculated step makes BLANCHE stumble. ALLAN manages to grab hold of her,
but he is equally unsteady. The pair bump into another couple on the dance floor. The
couple, who are far more steady and far less drunk than BLANCHE and ALLAN, do not
seem to mind the collision. They help the pair regain their balance, THE WOMAN
smoothing out the sleeves of BLANCHE’ s dress while THE MAN clamps a hand around
ALLAN’ s upper arm.]
THE MAN: Steady on, there! There we go. You two young ones all right?
ALLAN: Yes, sorry.
THE WOMAN: I hope I didn’t wrinkle your dress, love! My apologies.
[BLANCHE does not reply. She is looking at THE MAN ’s hand on her husband’s arm.]
ALLAN [answering for his silent wife]: It’s fine, it’s fine. We do apologize for our lack of
balance.
[The couple smile before moving away, THE MAN finally letting go of ALLAN ’s arm.
This interruption seems to have shaken BLANCHE, who is now looking at her husband
as though seeing who he is for the first time. ALLAN looks down at her, tilting his head
to the side, confused about the look on his wife’s face.]
ALLAN: Blanche, dear, are you alright?
BLANCHE [sharply]: Sometimes I do think about reality. But I dislike it so!
[BLANCHE makes to walk away but ALLAN grabs her arm, a panicked look on his face.
The polka music grows louder, now playing in a major key.]
ALLAN: Blanche, darling-
BLANCHE [spinning around to face him]: I saw you! I saw you, I did! And I thought I
could pretend that I didn’t but I can’t!
[ALLAN ’s face becomes pale with horror. The truth that has been circling them for the
evening has now come out into the open. He swallows, holding onto both of her arms
tightly.]
ALLAN: Maybe- maybe we can talk about it. Maybe- maybe we can get help-
BLANCHE: We?! I’m not the- the degenerate!
ALLAN: Blanche, darling, please don’t say that! We can- we have to try and fix this! I’m
so afraid, Blanche. I’m so scared-
[All around them the lights are flashing, a surge of brightness that engulfs them. The
polka music is rapid, intense. BLANCHE shakes her head in disbelief, unable to get
back into that fantasy world she had been in beforehand. ALLAN looks desperate,
unhappy, terrified; he does not know what to say to his wife.]
ALLAN [whispering]: Blanche, please…
BLANCHE [shaking her head and looking up at him, a curl to her lip that wasn’t there
before]: I know now. I know! I know! You… You disgust me.
[ The Polka music cuts out suddenly and all is silent. The couple stare at each other in
disbelief at what BLANCHE has just said. She lifts a hand to her open mouth, suddenly
regretting what she has said. ALLAN lets go of her, takes a step back. The Polka music
picks up once more, softer than before, slower, sadder.]
BLANCHE: Allan…
[ALLAN doesn’t listen, doesn’t say a word. He takes another step away from her, tears
welling up in his eyes. He never expected BLANCHE to say such a horrible thing to him,
and it breaks his heart that she has. Realization hits home: he cannot run away from his
true self.]
BLANCHE: Allan, I…
[ALLAN shakes his head before turning around and running away from her, out of the
casino, into the dark. For a few seconds BLANCHE just stands alone, bathed in a bright
light from above. A series of emotions pass over her face: regret, disgust, horror,
sadness, worry… She doesn’t know what to feel. Deciding that she should go after him
and apologize she takes one step forward. Suddenly, though, the sound of a gunshot
rings out, loud and horrible, causing both the Polka music and BLANCHE herself to
stop. For a heartbeat of a moment there is no movement or sound. After this, though,
people all around begin moving outside, rushing out to see what’s happened.
BLANCHE runs out with the crowd, out of the casino with its bright, shining lights and
into the darkness of the night. She is near the Lake’s edge, struggling to see past the
crowds in front her. The moans and cries of horror from the spectator's fill the area,
some people moving away from the crowd as they cannot handle what they have just
seen. BLANCHE continues to struggle forward, her breaths coming out in quick, sharp
pants. A STRANGER, part of the crowd, suddenly grabs onto BLANCHE ’s arm.]
BLANCHE [her voice shrill]: Unhand me, Sir!
STRANGER: Don’t go any closer! Come back, ma’am! You don’t want to see!
BLANCHE [in a scared voice]: See? See what?!
[Through the moans and cries are different voices from the crowd, all commenting on
the same thing.]
VOICE ONE: Oh, the horror! Someone call the police! Oh, horror!
VOICE TWO: Allan! It’s the Grey boy! Allan Grey!
VOICE THREE: He’s shot himself! Shot himself right through the head! Everyone stand
back!
VOICE FOUR: Oh, Lord! Oh, God! How terrible!
[During these calls of horror BLANCHE has pulled herself away from the STRANGER.
She steps away from the crowd, moving backwards until she is separated from the
crowd in the dark. She moans, shaking her head as though trying to wake up from a
bad dream. She lifts her hands to her face, covers her mouth, before her legs give out
and she falls onto her knees. The moans and cries from the crowd continue as the
sound of low jungle cries grows. Both sounds blend together, the jungle voices growing
louder in volume. She kneels, moaning and shaking, as the darkness closes in. She is
alone.]
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