The epitome of “life sucks, and then you die”, but perhaps not as big of a “boom” as you might think.

Poorly received by critics when it was first performed, Tennessee Williams’ “The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore” is an explosive, off-the-rails exploration of morality, our fear of death and being forgotten. Flora Goforth, a wealthy but dying woman, dictates the memoirs of her life when a young man nicknamed the “Angel of Death”, Chris, trespasses on her property. Whilst Robert Cavera masterfully directs for the traverse stage, some questionable design decisions and anxious performances left me a little disappointed. 

Marlowe navigates the wealthy yet highly immodest and erotic character of Flora Goforth with real age, ignorance and utter denial. A highly physical actress, Marlowe dominates the set with her presence. She contrasts well with the other actors and brings Flora’s absurdity to life with impeccable comedic timing. She displays some lovely moments of intimacy in the latter half alongside Sanee Reval but vocally is very limited, opting for a vague, waning American accent which feels artificial at times. Lucie Shorthouse and Sara Kestelman steal the show for me, however, with the young actress delivering a stern, insecure but nonetheless strong-willed “Blackie” and the latter, a seasoned veteran, perfectly encapsulating the mannerisms and vocal qualities of a sly, callous and rich Witch of Capri. Both eclectic, and engaging. 

Adam King’s lighting design and Nicolai Hart-Hansen’s minimalist set are also standouts in this production. The hard edges make the locations easy to navigate for the audience and Cavera makes creative, innovative use of the Charing Cross Theatre – a blackbox venue. Cavera takes great care in letting every actor  be seen and heard. Lines of sight are particularly difficult in the traverse space, and Cavera’s blocking here is effortlessly smooth and efficient. Cavera uses the elevation of the balcony seats to show a difference in status between the characters of Flora and Julio and part of me wishes this was utilised more throughout as it was visually compelling. The soft, woollen floors of Hansen’s set are perfectly appropriate for Goforth’s luxurious villa and creates an aesthetically pleasing cohesion with King’s floor-lit approach. 

Despite this all – Williams’ “The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore” is just not a good play. The ending in particular lacks pace and flow, and Tennessee’s writing here is long-winded and repetitive. The production struggles with this even more so with a noticeable lack of sound and a stiff, angsty delivery from Marlowe and Reval with not much meaning behind it. It is anti-climatic and rather confusing. (In all fairness, there is little character development and setting of intentions in the text. No wonder the actors may find it difficult to play Flora and Chris.) The sound is disjointed and jarring, wholly underutilised. The production opens with a rather absurd recording of ocean ambience and Marlowe’s whimpering. It is unpleasant and serves no purpose to what I can tell. There are further examples of this sort of incoherency throughout – a random, 80s-like montage of Marlowe being dressed is inserted in the middle of the first half. I would guess this is some sort of scene change, but it just feels out of place against Cavera’s naturalistic staging. (Which, may I add, plays vehemently against Tennessee’s intentions for symbolism and plastic theatre, making the production feel fairly absurd and wacky.) 

This is a really ambitious revival by Charing Cross Theatre Productions and I applaud them for their undertaking of one of Williams’ lesser known works – but perhaps it was buried for good reason. I feel as though it is unfinished – great potential is shrouded by acting and design decisions that don’t really gel well together. It is as if the production was worked on by each department individually, rather than as one collective. The text itself, whilst a compelling academic study, does not translate well onto the stage. The production has some great qualities, but I feel it may be worth a watch towards the end of its run to see it at its best: when it’s more confident and assured.

REVIEWER: Kai Fish