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Darlings, this is Miss Lucretia Collins, the heroine of Tennessee Williams' "Portrait Of A Madonna," his beautifully poetic (like, when isn't he???) precursor to "A Streetcar Named Desire."
Essentially, this entire one act play is 'Streetcar's last scene. Miss Collins lives in genteel poverty (is there any other kind, darlings? especially in the South? and in the world of Tennessee Williams????) and squalor, and drives her neighbors crazy. She is on the top floor of her building, so it isn't like she can holler up, and call some of her other neighbors, "Big Boy!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The Bellhop and the Janitor come to visit her, and Miss Collins confuses them with gentleman callers. They have actually come to evict her, and escort her to her next place of residency--which is a mental institution.
Hey, I can relate to all this! But I won't go, without a fight!
As an actor, I could nail this role! With age, come fewer, though very different, opportunities, and this is one I have always wanted to sink my teeth into! Even more than Blanche! Telescoping Lucretia's deterioration in one act would be more of a challenge.
But here is the most brilliant touch. Miss Collins is always playing records. Let's stage the opening a little differently.
The lights go down, the mood gets somber, and Miss Collins (as enacted by yours truly!!!!!!!!!!) somberly comes out, disheveled, (because, as even Blythe Danner would tell you, when you are playing disheveled in Tennessee Williams, you still have to look your best!!!!!!!!!!!) and goes over to the record player. But, instead of music of the 40's emanating from the phonograph, out comes "Lucretia Macevil," by Blood, Sweat, And Tears," which Miss Collins, taking center stage, proceeds to dance to, with some wild, ersatz disco and 'Chorus Line' dance moves.
What you gonna do, darlings??????????????????????/
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