Weinraub, Bernard. “For a Less Restrained Era, a Restored 'Streetcar'; The steam around Brando,    Leigh and Hunter Gets Even Steamier.” New York Times (16 Sept. 1993): C12. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 7 April 2008. <http://hdl.library.upenn.edu/1017/8765>.

This newspaper article, written forty years after Streetcar was released, announces a re-release of the film that includes dialogue, extra shots, and additional music from the original score that was initially cut due to “inappropriate” sexual content. Beginning with an overview of the film that mentions its four Oscars and twelve nominations, Weinraub recounts the stringent Motion Pictures Production Code and Catholic Legion of Decency in 1929 that attempted to ban Streetcar from theaters altogether. According to the president of Warner Brothers, the film was restored in order to enliven the sexual undertones that Tennessee Williams always intended to display. Stella and Stanley’s primal attraction, the seemingly innocent Blanche’s promiscuous history, the sexual tension between Blanch and Stanley, and Blanche and Stanley’s violent rape scene have all been intensified in Streetcar’s latest version.
As Streetcar was overwhelmingly risqué for 1950s film, Weinraub also makes a point of discussing Williams’ and director Elia Kazan’s relationship with Hollywood officials during the initial production of the film. According to Warner Brothers documents that had just been released to the public, Kazan and Williams were on the brink of disassociating themselves with the production of Streetcar entirely due to the many “moral” objections they received, particularly in regard to the rape scene. Defending his work, Williams claimed that his rape scene was anything but immoral; in fact, he stated it was “a pivotal, integral truth in the play, without which the play loses its meaning, which is the ravishment of the tender, the sensitive, the delicate, by the savage and brutal forces in modern society.” Thus, this situation not only exhibits Williams’ commitment to truth in a world filled with sins such as alcoholism, violence, and suicide (all of which is explores in his film), but also reveals Kazan’s realist priorities as a director. Furthermore, this clichéd conflict between the subordinate artist and superior capitalist sheds light on just how dramatically film has changed over the course of fifty years.
 

Presley, Delma Eugene. “The Moral Function of Distortion in Southern Grotesque.” South Atlantic Bulletin, 37.2 (May 1972): 37-46. South Atlantic Modern Language Association. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 7 April 2008. <http://hdl.library.upenn.edu/1017/6965/2>.

In this article, Presley explores the use of grotesque literature by American authors around the second half of the twentieth century. Both a literary movement and writing style associated with the Southern Gothic, grotesque literature is meant to induce both empathy and disgust in readers, and traditionally explores characters who are physically, mentally, or morally disadvantaged or incompetent. Created as an aftermath of historical misfortunate and the “cultural confusion” of the South’s agrarian roots in an age of progress, writers such as Truman Capote, Flannery O’Connor, and Tennessee Williams all wrote in the grotesque style in order to reveal the character of the American South and to bring social issues to light through supernatural, ironic, or unusual events. Founded on the use of Gothic archetypes such as the “damsel in distress” motif, grotesque writers took clichéd subject matter and placed it in a modern context. Presley commends grotesque writers for giving readers insight into the cultural dilemmas relating to the south, yet also finds that many of these issues are taken out of context and are often distorted for dramatic purposes.
    Tennessee Williams’ Streetcar Named Desire is a prime example of a grotesque piece of literature. Flannery O’Connor stated that grotesque writers are “faced with the reality that they live in an age whose distortions function as indicators of how far man has drifted from his true image as a creature of God.” In this vein, Williams explores the corruption of mankind, along with its difficulties in reconciling its primal nature with the rules of society: Blanche’s charm and beauty is overridden by her alcoholism, nymphomania, and general debauchery, while Stanley’s work ethic is conquered by his animalistic brutality. Because he believes desires of the “flesh and the spirit” cannot exists harmoniously in society, Williams also explores the impossibility of durable love, which is evidenced at the end of Streetcar when Stella finally leaves her husband. Thus, Presley’s analysis of grotesque literature not only reveals the methodology behind Williams’ play, but why he chose to write it in the first place. 

Kaplan, Donald M. “Homosexuality and American Theatre: A Psychoanalytic Comment.” The    Tulane Drama Review, 9.3 (Spring, 1965): 25-55. The MIT Press. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 7 April 2008. <http://hdl.library.upenn.edu/1017/6965/2>.

 In this article, Kaplan comments on the increased display of homosexuality in American theater, and tries to explain why this change had come about by 1965. It is important to note that, as taboo as homosexuality may be today, in the 1960’s dialogue regarding the subject was simply unmentionable. Not half as much research on the “true” factors for a homosexual being had been conducted, while the limitations on a homosexual’s “mentality and creative vision” were far more pervasive. Nevertheless, Kaplan opens his discussion with a quote straight from Elia Kazan (an artist who’s sexuality, he believes, is “questionable): “The whole concept is rather thrilling, the realization of a dream. In the few days that we have been working together I have had more fun than I have had in years.” This “realization,” Kaplan states, is the transformation of a homosexual’s dreams into reality—a reality that is becoming more and more popular in modern America, he believes. Unfortunately, Kaplan quickly seems to contradict this “modern” notion by defending homosexuals through the “verified” results of outdated ink-blot tests; nevertheless, he quickly goes on to discuss both scientific and social beliefs regarding the notion of sexuality.
    Tennessee Williams was one of these homosexual artists whose dreams have been realized, and while the Streetcar film has toned down many of its intended homosexual undertones, the original version is almost blatant in its discussion of homosexuality. Kaplan criticizes the play for its “Me-Tarzan-You-Jane” sexuality when it comes to Stanley’s relationship with both Stella and Blanche, citing the unrefined terms “making out” and “getting those colored lights going on” as crude representations of heterosexual relationships. However, Blanche’s one true love happened to be gay. This “nervous, tender, uncertain boy” who wrote poetry is sympathetically portrayed, and is arguably a pivotal character in Streetcar’s synopsis. This fact proves Kaplan’s point that homosexual “rebellion against instinctual deprivation” is rapidly spreading in both American theater and cinema. It also sheds light on the changing face of what American authors were willing to write and what American audiences were willing to see.