The Power of Gender and Sexuality in Benedict Andrew's 2017 production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Sam Pout

29 Dec 2021

London’s most recent revival of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof in 2017 by the Young Vic was one full of sexuality, power and manipulation. We soon discover that not many of Tennessee Williams’ characters are likeable, at least in the Aristotlean protagonist sense. However, such compelling writing and characterisation paired with stellar performances from Sienna Miller, Jack O’Connell and the rest of the cast prove that not all characters have to be likeable to hold our attention. With every element considered, Benedict Andrews directs a production which proves a significant threat to Streetcar being the most revered of Williams' play. 

Andrews’ and Miller’s conception of Maggie portrays a complex and arguably paradoxical figure of femininity, displaying both fraught desperation and sensual enticement in every word delivered. During the first act, Miller not only commands attention through excessive speech issuing a constant monologue with O’Connell’s frustrated interjections, but also dominating the stage through her physical prowess; flaunting the ‘perfect condition’ of her body. Miller comments on the complexity of her character being ‘Hugely charismatic, incredibly bright and witty and also deeply needy and flawed.’ (WhatsOnStage). Despite Maggie’s futile attempts to reclaim her husband’s desire, the intense sexual energy between O’Connell and Miller intrigues the audience and holds us on every cry, laugh and lie. Brick rejects her advances, saying he feels embarrassed for her, although one cannot fail to admire Miller’s playful toying not only with Brick but with  Maggie’s own femininity as she claims how little she cares for being a fool. Andrews lays out Maggie’s vulnerability in moments like these, deceiving us into thinking we know who Maggie is, however due to the revealing of Williams’ intricately layered character, it’s often stripped away from us as soon as we feel we know Maggie. Miller demonstrates Maggie’s own lack of self-trust by asking the mirror ‘Who are you?’, accompanied by Jed Kurzel’s covertly ominous underscore. A glimpse into the psychological corruption of Maggie, thus perhaps earning a level of sympathy from the audience, despite her cunning exterior.

At the heart of Williams’ text is a battle of power and sexuality, enforced by Andrews through Miller's dominance compared to O’Connell’s lethargic attitude; it is O’Connell’s silent yet powerful presence that evokes a fractured loss of masculinity. Andrews claims that to solve a ‘vacuum at the centre of a play, you have to fill it with a cyclone.’ (Guardian), this cyclone being Miller’s tenacity. Miller uses Maggie’s femininity as a weapon, physically but also more intimately her omniscient power trying to orchestrate the family dynamic she has fallen into. The placement of her mirror at the corner of the stage gives her the ability to view the action in the room even with her back to it. O’Connell’s progressive vulnerability in response to the power complex Miller creates, inevitably pushes the gendered dynamic to the forefront of the audience’s attention as we witness it. It is this very friction which Maggie revels which exposes the complexity of her true motives. Miller beautifully compliments Maggie’s intricate femininity; we believe she adopts an apathy for familial love, given her caring nature over the dependent Big Mama. Although despite her constant admiration of Brick, she does not pay him the same love and affection and even proves to significantly lack a maternal impulse for children, including the ‘no-neck monsters’. Despite being a character conceived over 60 years ago, Andrews and Miller have brought this female archetype to fit a contemporary society. Although Maggie still possesses a submissive attitude due to her total admiration of Brick, her deceiving strength and complexity of character creates a highly relevant image of femininity for a contemporary audience, achieving Andrews’ desire to adapt the text to engage with a current audience. 

To analyse Andrews’ portrayal of the power of sexuality, it is imperative to acknowledge how Miller’s strength in femininity disarms O’Connell’s weakened masculinity, antagonising the fractious dynamic of the family. Williams chose to embed a palimpsest of masculinity within Brick, a man longing for what he once was within a contemporary society where masculinity is interrogated as much as femininity. Andrews exploits this and together with O’Connell delivers a heartbreakingly painful and honest interpretation of the character, unable to retain dignity or move with grace, from his family as well as the audience. Maggie’s paradoxical identity is mirrored within Brick’s, O’Connell represents a masculinity broken down as a product of masculinity itself, drinking more and more to numb the pain of now being a hard stone of a man; O’Connell is the brick. As a result of his weakened sense of manhood, his sexuality has numbed and no longer feels attraction to his wife, nor does he engage with sexual conversation. His self-worth is further corroded as a result of his inability to accept the chance that his relationship with his late best friend Skipper to be sexual, a complex both characters shared leading to Skipper’s death. Despite Maggie and Bid Daddy’s acceptance of Brick’s possibly sexual identity, O’Connell’s offended cry shows us how desperate Brick is to defend what little he has left of the true memory of Skipper. Thus, reinforcing the text’s resonance with privacy and the right to truth, pervading Andrews’ adaptation. O’Connell’s tormented depiction is emotionally turbulent; often quiet with moments of powerful rage thrust onto the audience, particularly when he cries ‘disgust’ in response to Big Daddy’s presumptions of his son’s sexuality. This effect on the audience is mirrored through Magda Witi’s stage design: a golden backdrop evoking decadence whilst reflecting the explosive light of the fireworks, enhancing the text’s ideas on how corrosive social pressure can be on privacy.

What is most intriguing about Andrews’ production is the transference of masculinity - where it lies and who adopts it. We arguably sympathise with O’Connell over Miller, due to his fragile mentality and the strong familiarity of solace within alcohol. Opposed to this, Andrews suggests that Miller portrays an antagonistic role, taking advantage of Brick when he is most vulnerable. This strength of character could suggest that Maggie has absorbed Brick’s masculinity, his charm but also his crudeness. A prime example being when Maggie retorts about Big Daddy observing her figure, 'licking his lips’, Brick accuses her speech as being disgusting. Miller, then casually leans over, accusing Brick of being an ‘ass aching Puritan’, demeaning Brick telling him to accept his own father’s smut. This similar speech about women is mirrored with Big Daddy’s in Act 2, suggesting that both Maggie and Big Daddy have acquired not only the same characteristic of masculinity, but also adopting paternal roles within the family - one reserved for Brick a long time ago. 

Ultimately, what does the play's final moments offer the audience? Maggie is still without admiration from her husband, Big Mama slumps on the floor holding a torn up birthday cake, and Mae still hasn't aquired her desired share of Big Daddy's property. The men don't seem to be in a much better position: at death's door, Big Daddy is still unable to understand his own son and Brick remains submissive to the duplicity of alcohol. Williams' Battle of the Sexes leaves us with one question: who wins? Answer: no one. Does anyone get what they want? No. Reviewer David Fox criticses the production, but is perhaps right when observing such a 'glitzy but ugly' ending (Fox). The tragedy of this play reveals itself to be the unpromising future for the characters cemented in depression. At the very end, no one is able to save themselves or redeem each other, demonstrating how the family's corruption lies indelibly at its core. 

Andrews provides an account for how gender and sexuality can be exploited, manipulated and used as weapons in a relationship. Despite not offering a hopeful ending, it is this power offered by Williams' characters that grasps the audience's attention throughout. Thus leaving us with an unnerved appreciation for a lack of similarity with our own lives.  It is worth noting there are moments of comedic relief and comedy centering on Big Mama's endering character, although this doesnt detract from the fact that the world Andrews depicts is corrupt with a sense of love rotting at the core. 

At time of publication, both Streetcar Named Desire and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof are both available to stream from the National Theatre's NT at Home service. I emplore anyone to watch these productions as they truly capture the verocity of Williams' writing. 

Works cited

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. By Tennessee Williams, directed by Benedict Andrews. 22 February 2018, Apollo Theatre, London.

Fox, D. https://recliningstandards.com/2018/03/30/review-the-epic-fail-of-benedict-andrews-cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof/ (Accessed 29 Dec 2021).

The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2017/jul/14/benedict-andrews-theatre-cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof-sienna-miller (Accessed 23rd July 2020). 

What's on Stage. https://www.whatsonstage.com/west-end-theatre/news/sienna-miller-jack-o-connell-cat-hot-tin-roof-london_44144.html?cid=homepage_news (Accessed 23rd July 2020).