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The following is an annotated bibliography for Elia Kazan's "A Streetcar Named Desire" (1951), based on Tennessee Williams play of the same name. In this film, the beautiful yet disturbed Blanche DuBois moves in with her sister, Stella, in the French Quarter of New Orleans, only to be physically and psychologically tormented by her brutish brother-in-law, Stanley. The more Blanche's situation deteriorates, the more she loses touch with reality.

Vlasopolos, Anca. “Victimization in ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’.” Theatre Journal, 38.3 (Oct.    1986):    322-338. Johns Hopkins Press. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 7 April 2008. <http://hdl.library.upenn.edu/1017/6965/2>.

This article is a fascinating look at Williams’ play from a feminist perspective. Anca Vlasopolos, an English professor, traces Blanche’s character throughout the novel and reveals the multiple facets of its inherently sexist nature. Though Blanche may be perceived as the heroine of Williams’ story, Vlasopolos argues that Blanche represents the female as the cliched “perfect victim,” and it is this fact that makes Williams’ work a “problem,” or regressive, piece of writing. To readers, Blanche appears to be the epitome of a “Southern belle”—her language is prim and flowery, her outfits are glamorous, her face is full of makeup, her education is extensive—yet she is also the prey of an undeniable patriarchy that persists in an era of “progress.” Vlasopolos claims that the allusions of Williams’ writing, which are also evident in Kazan’s direction of the Streetcar film, reveal this discrimination.
She believes that Blanche is disadvantaged in every way: though beautiful, she is, more importantly, homeless, unwanted, alone, physically weak, and incapable of upholding her responsibilities. Even when she seeks to control the littler things, such as lighting, decor, and costume, she fails. Blanche only appears to be an authority figure when arguing over the ownership of her family estate, Belle Reve, yet even in this sense she proves incompetent, as she is the one who mismanaged the land. Thus, while Blance’s descent into mental illness may be viewed as a happy ending, as this break from reality ultimately frees her from the chains of the Kowalski household, Vlasopolos believes that she is merely a caricature of a gender-determined exclusion from society. Aside from obvious chauvinism, Vlasopolos manages to reveal sexist subtleties such as Stanley and Blanche’s uncanny similarities and the representation of Blanche as an allegory for characters such as the Grim Reaper, the goddess Daphne, and other legends. In this way, Vlasopolos’ analysis of Streetcar reaches depths that no reader can discern the first time they read Williams’ play. The beauty of Williams’ work lies in the layers of his prose, and it is these intricacies that Kazan emulates in his 1951 film. Her criticisms may be controversial, but it is these critiques that made Streetcar one of the most contentious works of the mid-twentieth century.
 

Staggs, Sam. . When Blanche met Brando : the scandalous story of "A streetcar named Desire" / Sam Staggs. 1st ed. 0312321643 series New York : St. Martin's Press, 2005.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PS3545.I5365 S83 2005
 
In this book, Staggs recounts everything from Williams’ initial names of Blanche Collins and Ralph Kowalski to the production of the play to the making of the movie, and all of the remakes after that. A thorough, candid account of Streetcar complete with a photo journal and multiple indexes, Staggs assesses every nuance that went into Williams’ play and Kazan’s film, leaving readers with an understanding of the actual characters and the men and women who played them. From the choice of New Orleans as a backdrop to the faith-based censorship it experienced upon release, Staggs seems to tell it all. However, some of his most provocative chapters reveal the antics behind the scenes. In Chapter Twenty-One, titled “Thirteen Ways of Looking at Brando,” Staggs gives an account Brando’s antics, such as putting a fake tarantula in Kim Hunter’s bed while she slept or refusing to use theatrical, breakable plates in Blanche’s birthday scene and consequently cutting his hand open; in Chapter Twenty-Two, he describes L. Ron Hubbard’s visits to the sets before he invented Scientology.  
    For audiences wishing to have a thorough understanding of all of the elements that went into the production of Streetcar, Staggs delivers. Characters are vividly explained, yet the actors who played them are brought to life as well; Elia Kazan does not appear to be an unapproachable master of theater and film, but an inspired man with a multitude of artistic ambitions. His book does not feel like a work of nonfiction, but it does not feel like a novel either. Rather, it’s a collection of stories that, when put together, creates one of the most dynamic tales in 1950s Hollywood.