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Soulpepper director Weyni Mengesha seems to have taken her cue from this line for the revival of her award-winning — and, yes, magical — 2019 production of Tennessee Williams’ masterpiece.

While there are a few New Orleans signifiers in Mengesha’s staging, including at one point a raucous brass band that struts down one aisle of the Baillie Theatre, there’s no real attempt to recreate the city’s infamous French Quarter.

The corrugated metal walls that line Lorenzo Savoini’s bold set initially feel cold and out of place — are we in some meat-packing district? But as the production goes on, they open up to reveal lots of surprises. Mengesha, sound designer Debashis Sinha and lighting designer Kimberly Purtell make you feel some of the play’s most brutal moments with startling force.

At the centre of the storm is Blanche (Amy Rutherford), the genteel, middle-aged teacher who’s left her Mississippi town to come and stay with her younger sister, Stella (Shakura Dickson), and her husband, Stanley Kowalski (Mac Fyfe), in their cramped, two-room apartment.

Just what happened to the sisters’ country estate, Belle Reve, and why Blanche is penniless and friendless, despite her vague explanations, will be revealed. And it will be up to Stanley — whom Blanche rightly imagines to be her executioner — to expose and exploit all her carefully hidden secrets.

When I reviewed the production’s first outing, I suggested that if you stripped away the dialogue or didn’t speak English, audiences would still understand the characters and their actions: the sign of great theatre. Blanche’s isolation comes through from her first appearance in her elegant, carefully chosen outfit (designed by Rachel Forbes) while she’s assaulted by the sounds of urban life around her.

What I appreciated with this revisit was the total musicality of the staging. It’s there in the literal music-making that happens, when that metal siding opens up on a second level to reveal a full band, led by Divine Brown’s soulful singer, with music direction by Kaleb Horn (the show’s original music director was Mike Ross). The most effective musical moment comes when Brown and company croon “Goodnight, Ladies,” a song whose lyrics are devastating in the play’s context. (It’s referred to in the script but not necessarily sung.)

There’s also musicality in the characters’ utterances. Rutherford’s Blanche is one of the few in the production to speak in a Southern accent and I think it’s intended. Blanche coyly hides behind the playful whimsy of her cadences, even when what she’s saying is harshly critical. And Stanley, whose primal cry to his wife is one of the most famous moments in all theatre (it’s delivered here poignantly by Fyfe), speaks in a gruffness that’s musical at the same time.

And then there’s the gentle music-box melody that plays whenever Blanche slips into memories. The way Mengesha layers past and present, urban and rural, is masterful without being obvious.

Most of the same fine cast has reassembled for this outing, with a few small changes. Dickson is a physically expressive actor whose scenes with Stanley have an authenticity and abandon that are thrilling. Ordena Stephens-Thompson plays the Kowalskis’ upstairs neighbour Eunice with lots of spirit, her explosive scenes with Lindsay Owen Pierre’s Steve providing a contrast to the domestic goings-on below. And Kaleb Horn helps make a scene in which we see a side of Blanche she doesn’t show anyone else into something quietly disturbing.

Gregory Prest brings a guileless charm and honesty to Mitch, Stanley’s friend and a possible suitor for Blanche. Fyfe’s Stanley, meanwhile, is bellowing, brutal and vital, always aware of the power he exudes in a room.

Rutherford’s Dora-nominated performance as Blanche resembles a precious gem: fascinating from multiple angles and extremely tough at its core.

When Soulpepper premiered this production in fall 2019, it suggested great things to come from newly minted artistic director Mengesha, who had programmed the season only to find everything shut down a few months later.

Today’s artistic landscape has changed drastically. And like the brittle, vulnerable Blanche, theatre is slightly disoriented and trying to hang on, dependent on clever directors, generous donors and, as always, the kindness of strangers.

Our own streetcars might frequently break down or get stuck in traffic, but use whatever transportation you can find to go see this show.