Kowalski and the Challenges with Writing a Historical Fiction Play

I saw it 2/4 Off-Broadway at the Duke on 42nd Street.

Written by Gregg Ostrin, Kowalski premiered Off-Broadway at the Duke on 42nd Street at New 42 Studios this past January. Ostrin, best known for his recent works The Spy Who Went Into Rehab, Truffle, and A Very Streaming Christmas, as well as his work in TV and film, brings us this historical fiction. The play recounts the moment when Tennessee Williams, a pillar of the American theatre canon, meets Marlon Brando, one of the most famous actors of that generation, as heaudition s for his breakthrough role as Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire.

Overall, it was an enjoyable experience, but the play itself fell into traps that I think the historical fiction genre often lays. What exactly is historical fiction? This genre may use a historical setting, event, or even real figures, but also includes theatrical and fictionalized elements to create a story or plot. What is real in this particular play are the characters, they are all real people of the time, and the circumstances—Brando arrived three days late in Providence to audition in person for William’s A Streetcar Named Desire. What makes this play fictional rather than non-fiction is that it dramatizes what the playwright imagines happened behind closed doors. The dialogue and actions of the play are not rooted in fact, which makes it a play rather than a biopic or memoir.

There are two main challenges I find with this genre. The first is that it's too easy for a writer to rely on the assumption that members of the audience will know enough about the characters and the lore surrounding them. You cannot trust that the audience will know the history itself. Writing about popular culture is difficult because what might seem integral to “common” knowledge could be unfamiliar to someone older, younger, or with a different identity or passion. In this case, time is against the writer, there is approximately 50 years, half a century, between the premiere of A Streetcar Named Desire and this play, therefore I know very little about Tennessee Williams or Marlon Brando as people or human beings, I don’t know what they sound like or how they act or what they did in there personal lives. It’s possible this was the most historically accurate representation of Tennessee as a person, but he came across as extremely unlikeable. From the way this story is framed—Tennessee recounting the meeting between the two, told through his lens—it creates conflict for me as an audience member about who I should be rooting for. There is a line between a character being flawed and unlikeable, and I think that line is intention and redeemability. In this play, there was nothing redeemable about Tennessee in the writing. We didn’t see his fear or desperation regarding his new play, the pressure of following up a success, or his sexual repression and insecurity influencing his actions. None of these threads, which I could infer might have been in Tennessee’s mind, came to fruition. If anything, Tennessee Williams came across as egotistical and on a power trip the entire time. Now, if this were Marlon Brando’s story, recounting the situation from his perspective, that would make more sense. But it was framed as Tennessee Williams' story, his house.

The second trap with historical fiction is the tendency to feel compelled to include all the details to make it historically accurate, which might sound hypocritical as you read this. But I believe it’s truly a balancing act: don’t include enough details, and it’s not accurate; include too many, and you limit what can and can’t happen. I actually think what this play could have done without were the characters of Pancho Rodriguez and Margo Jones. While both were real and important figures in Tennessee Williams' life, they didn’t really add to the play. The play itself felt like a two-hander—maybe three if you include Brando’s girlfriend, Jo—but it mainly focused on the chess match or cat-and-mouse game between Brando and Williams. Pancho and Margo add unnecessary complications to the story. In the case of Pancho, Williams’ lover, the question arises: why is he here, aside from being his real-life lover? He is on stage for maybe 10 minutes and doesn’t add anything you can’t infer from talking about him as an offstage character. And frankly, Pancho being Mexican in 1947 meant that he was subjected to racially charged comments, which, while historically accurate, felt unnecessary in a play that had nothing to do with race relations at the time. On the flip side, you have the complex relationship between Margo, the famous director, and Tennessee.he is there to read his new play, having directed his last one, The Glass Menagerie, and always being his number one supporter. However, she soon discovers that she will not be directing this new play, as the producers have chosen another director due to there name and popularity. This is an extremely compelling moment of betrayal that is resolved in a single breath, after which Margo disappears. Margo feels like a pushover, and then she’s gone for two-thirds of the play, leaving me wanting to know more about her. She detracts from the main storyline, and if this relationship isn’t worth exploring, I question why it’s introduced at all.

Another caveat of this challenge in including too many details is that it causes a long set-up, and therefore everything else felt rushed. Brando doesnt walk into the house until 20 minutes in, and in a play thats only 90 minutes, thats a lot of real estate lost.

I think the play could literally begin when Marlon Brando arrives at Tennessee Williams’ house in Providence. As I mentioned, it has the elements to be a three-person show, where we can focus on the relationship these two build and see the peaks and valleys of this long, arduous night.

But aside from these two major challenges, I thought Ostrin did a few things successfully, both related to the shifting of power and dynamics. Whether through the manipulation of the innocent and starstruck Jo, who walks in during the middle of the argument, or through Brando’s sexual prowess and energy, I felt these were the bread and butter of the play, and I would have loved to see more of it throughout. When these two meet, it’s almost like a cockfight, each trying to outmaneuver the other. Brando maintains his advantage, undermining the prestige and work of Williams, which gets under his skin. Williams retaliates by claiming the part is going to someone better and more famous, and that he’s only holding the audition out of pity. Brando then resorts to trying to implicitly seduce Williams, removing his jacket and doing “manly” chores around the house. They then share emotional and private stories, only for it to be revealed that Brando was lying. When Jo comes in, Williams befriends her and promises her success to make Brando jealous, who responds by kissing and touching Jo to make Williams flustered and jealous. This culminates in a moment of blurred lines, where Brando thrusts himself onto Williams, asking, "Isn't this what you want?" Now, I’m making it seem more streamlined and direct than it actually was, but the threads and moments for this were there. In a future iteration of this play, I would love to see these moments expanded and focused on. You don’t need the distractions of the time or what’s happening elsewhere; you just need two characters with clear intentions.

Overall, I’m compelled by the historical fiction genre and give huge props to Gregg Ostrin for tackling the challenges of writing about such an important watershed moment in American theatre history. I also think some knowledge of A Streetcar Named Desire is required before entering this play.