Santana Ramos

Hank Stratton

Acting II

1/30/17

Streetcar Character Analysis: Blanche

Part I

The playwright at first compares my uncertainty to a moth, meant to articulate the way I

seem to flutter nervously. I am a little jumpy and nervous, a nod to my overall emotional and

mental instability. The playwright also describes me through my own words and actions. The

way I continue to lie in order to cope and make myself feel better, how I act around men. I am a

refined lady, and Stella knows this, which is why she asks Stanley to be nice (AKA not his

normal pig self) and to compliment me. Stanley knows the truth about my life, and he dislikes

me because I start to come between he and Stella. He rummages through my things several

times, makes comments about me being snooty, and shares my hidden truth with Stella and

Mitch in order to turn them against me. Mitch did like me, he took a fancy to me when we met.

But I was afraid to expose myself to him. I told him I was younger than I am, and I constantly

hid my face in the darkness. I cover up the darkest parts of my life with lies and phony stories

about good times that never existed. I am currently in the French Quarter of New Orleans, at my

sisters home, running away from my old life.

Part II

Synopsis

I arrived in New Orleans in search of my sister. We reunite and have an opportunity to

catch up for a bit, and I fill her in about the loss of Belle Reve. I was bit surprised to see that this
is where Stella ran away to so many years ago, and upon learning that the home is only two

bedrooms, I am a bit surprised and quite amused, I cant help but laugh. I expected more of her,

because we were raised as upper class women, and yet there she was with Stanley. The man has

no shame, he walked in to meet me for the first time and insisted that he get comfortable. He

suspects me of some wrongdoing and demands to see the legal papers for Belle Reve, which I

supply to him without complaint. During our exchange, I learn that my sister is pregnant! That

night, Stella and I go out to entertain ourselves while the men play poker. When we come home,

we meet a nice man named Mitch. Stanley was hollering like a mad man simply because we

were having a little fun singing along to the radio. He came and hurled the thing out the window,

he became vicious and violent. In a drunken rage, he struck Stella. There was so much

commotion in the atmosphere, as the men grabbed Stanley and I ran to Stella. I my poor little

sister upstairs as quickly as I could. Stanley came out and yelled for her, and she went with him!

I couldnt comprehend it, how she could stay there and let him be that way and clean up after his

mess. I tried to persuade her to come away with me, and she rejects the idea. When Stanley

comes home, he brings up The Flamingo, that horrid place that I desire never to associate myself

with. That was the past, it is nothing I concern myself with anymore. But somehow, when a

young collector came to the door, I reverted to that old selfjust for a bit. After all, I was going

out with Mitch. He talked about settling down, and I confessed about my first marriage, and the

death of my husband. Soon, it was my birthday. Everything was very odd, the way Stella and

Stanley acted, and Mitch neglecting to show. I was so nervous and tense, and suddenly Stanley

was handing me a bus ticket back to Laurel. Laurel! I couldnt bear it. Soon after I retreated to

the bedroom, Stella went into labor. I was alone, having a drink and reminiscing until Mitch

showed. He tried to expose meexpose my face, my age, my past. Tried to take what wasnt his.
So I fought and got him to leave. I was alone to keep drinking until Stanley arrived. He started to

accuse me of many awful things and attacked me. He took me, and I was helpless. Some days

later, I was expecting Shep to come for me. However, it wasnt Shep at the front door, but a

doctor. And a woman to help him escort me, to take me away. I was so weak and faint, but I got

up and left with him after all, I always depended on the kindness of strangers.

Character

My name is Blanche DuBois. Most people arent aware of the fact, but its French. It

translates to white woods. Isnt that just darling? I suppose a darling name demands a darling

young lady to describe. Id imagine thats what my mother and father thought when they had

Stella and I there at Belle Reve. So many short years ago, we would run and play together.

Simply two young girls having a grand time. I would bake imaginary pie for the both of us, and

we would drink tea in the most sophisticated manner. I recall that she was always a little more

outgoing than I. It was often so difficult for her wandering mind to stay put, and she was just the

slightest bit slower than I in school. But oh, neither of us would have ever imagined Id be an old

maid school teacher! I always enjoyed literature, but I dreamed of creating my own novels.

Perhaps I was never quite adventurous enough for such things. I thought, maybe a young woman

ought to settle there is enough adventure in literature to be shared right in the comfort of your

own home, after all! There was never any trouble. In the home, I mean.

I dont remember any bit of sorrow in our childhood. I remember the sunshine and

laughter, our mothers soft smile and our fathers firm hugs. It was so awful to see them go. To

see her smile fade, and feel his hugs grow weaker. It was all too much, but then to be abandoned

by Stella, by my star! A star shooting far away from me, leaving me with no one. With nothing.

Alone with my thoughts, my memories. With only the polka and the gunshot to keep me
company. Oh, those sounds! They were the worst company of all! Intruding my mind again and

again with no explanation, no mercy. And where was she? Hiding away in the dark with her

Polack! Who else could I have turned to but strangers? I found solace in them, and they in me.

They redeemed me. I was not Blanche, sad old maid school teacher! I was beautiful. I was

desired. I had many nice things given to me by men who fancied me. They gave me extravagant

clothes, and loved to see me wear them.

Oh, but I never forgot Stella. No, Stella, Stella for star, she was always in my heart. The

only person in this world who I was closest to the only person who loved me truly, who knew

my heart so completely! But then, how would we get along? After so much time spent living

separate lives? I understand the comfort of the darkness. One could stay in the dim light for an

eternity, safe and hidden from the world as the shades are drawn. Afraid to be exposed, wincing

each time the light creeps in. One is so vulnerable in the light, enduring the scrutiny of all those

who lay eyes on them. Yes, I understand the comfort of the darkness. It is a warm blanket and a

cold winter morning, drawing you in close, and keeping you there in its grasp. I didnt want to be

stuck there, with only the polka to accompany me. I had to go to her.

Part III

Blanche and I are similar in the way that we tend to run away and hide. I wouldnt

necessarily say that I am as extreme as she, however, I dont always like to confront my

emotions and deal with them in the moment, something that I feel Blanche does. She hides away

in the bathtub, or covers her negative feelings with a joke, a story, a smile. Often times, I feel as

though I have to keep up this upbeat, positive attitude all of the time. So, I cover my struggles

with good things. Though I dont come up with completely fake stories like Blanche, I can admit

to stretching the truth a bit in order to keep up with the faade of happiness.
 Blanche is afraid of aging, afraid that it makes her less beautiful and less desirable.

Perhaps its because Im not old yet, but this isnt a fear of mine. I would say that Blanche has

little self-confidence, which is why she hides in dim lighting and adorns her body with (fake)

jewels and fancy clothing. While I have struggled with my confidence, I try not to hide my true

selfwhether it is my personality, my natural looks, my style, my beliefs, etc. I am who I am,

and that is all. So, while I said that I relate to Blanche by hiding emotionally, there is a line

between hiding emotions and hiding myself. I also dont take pride in materialistic things the

way she does, which is technically part of her attempt to cover herself up.