NT Live performances are always a nightmare for my attention span. There's something about theatre that makes you so aware of the people around you - the little shuffling noises they make, or their laughter or their muttered remarks to each other - and with NT Live screenings, despite the fact you're in a cinema environment, you're still thrust into a state of hyper-vigilance. You see the crowd's faces alongside those those of the actors; they're a little like a sitcom laugh track, their gasps and laughs nudging you towards an appropriate emotional response. They're almost a chorus. And sometimes they're annoying and distracting, like the chap whose face kept looming into view during 'Two Gentleman of Verona' last month, wearing a tiny smug grin, like some kind of overenthusiastic extra.
The Young Vic's 'Streetcar' pushes and pushes this sticky, rather uncomfortable awareness of your own role as spectator. Blanche, Stanley and Stella do not remain safely sequestered behind a proscenium arch, but stride about in a house that is, for all intents and purposes, all windows. We are the neighbours, the observers, the unwanted visitors; our remarks about the action feel like nothing other than gossip. And the rotating set means that, despite everything, our view and comprehension is never quite total. A wall or pillar will cut across a character's face mid-sentence, meaning we miss out on a crucial expression, or a room will spin completely away before we understand fully what is happening within it.
