Review: THE GLASS MENAGERIE at Alley Theatre

Written in 1944, THE GLASS MENAGERIE was Tennessee Williams’ first major success, and it mirrors his own life more than any other of his works. The play’s characters are drawn from an autobiographical place, and Williams even donated half of the proceeds from the original production to his mother. In the story, a faded Southern belle (Amanda) is obsessed with finding a gentleman caller for her afflicted daughter, Laura. Meanwhile, her son, Tom, is also desperate—not for a suitor for his sister, but to escape his mother, his boring warehouse job, and his lackluster life. When he brings home an old high school acquaintance (who is now his coworker) for dinner, everything unravels.

Directed by the Alley’s Artistic Director Rob Melrose, this production really captures the essence of Williams’ work. There’s always something deeply relatable about stories set in the South, and even though this one takes place in St. Louis, Amanda is from Mississippi, accent and all. We understand these characters; whether we root for them or not, their struggles are easy to latch onto. The dreamy staging, combined with artful set and lighting design, amplifies the memory-play nature of this piece. This is the second production I’ve seen recently where the stage is set at an angle that juts into the audience, and I find it to be a compelling technique—it pulls us in, making us part of the experience.

Sally Wingert plays Amanda Wingfield, the mother of Laura and Tom, with expert precision. She manipulates her children artfully, and her character choices are spot-on. We see two distinct sides of her in each act: first as a desperate matriarch clinging to the last remnants of her former life, then as an overindulgent, pitiful flirt who ends up upstaging the very daughter she claims to be helping. Her Act II monologue about jonquils (a flower similar to a daffodil) is brilliant—both heartbreaking and self-absorbed. It’s a tour de force.

Laura is a difficult role in multiple ways, and Melissa Molano delivers an exceptional performance. Laura is defined by her limp and painful shyness, but more than that, she is weighed down by a lifetime of embarrassments that have shaped her fragile self-image. Her mother and brother are both protective of her and frustrated by her. The titular glass menagerie belongs to her, with a unicorn as its most precious piece. We immediately recognize it as a symbol of Laura herself, and when the inevitable happens, her reaction is quietly devastating. She tells us she isn’t sad because “now he’s like all the others.” For a brief, beautiful moment, she experiences what she’s always longed for, and that realization lingers—I’m still getting goosebumps.

As Tom, Dylan Godwin also serves as the narrator, and effectively sets the scene for us and clues us in during the production. At times he played certain lines for laughs in a way that felt slightly insincere. The humor would have still landed if he fully committed to Tom’s emotions in those moments. I also felt there was a missed opportunity in the subtext of his character—after all, Tom is Tennessee Williams himself. Like Brick in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Tom is hiding something significant, and I wished Godwin had leaned into that more. Where is he really going when he claims he’s off to the movies? Why does such a sensitive, poetic soul feel so utterly trapped with his mother and so desperate for adventure and a way out of whatever he's trapped in? In the end, he is the only one who gets what he wants—but this is a memory play. Are we to believe it truly unfolded this way, or is this simply Tom’s own recollection of events?

Luis Quintero, as Jim O’Connor (the gentleman caller), has only one scene, but he makes every moment count. His boisterous presence—through voice, personality, and physicality—commands attention the second he steps on stage. I loved how he towers over the rest of the cast, acting as a mirror that reflects each character in a new light. His chemistry with Molano is palpable, and their scene together was my favorite of the production. Jim’s lines could easily come across as overly direct, even hurtful or creepy, but Quintero delivers them with such kindness and earnestness that he becomes endearing rather than off-putting.

It’s been a long time since I first read THE GLASS MENAGERIE, and this was my first time seeing it performed live. I’ll admit I had forgotten how much its narrative structure enhances the story, but in this production, it felt even stronger. When I think of Tennessee Williams’ plays, I picture dreamlike settings, characters clinging to hope in the face of despair, and that uniquely Southern sense of languor. Melrose’s direction embodies all of that—and even more than I had imagined.

To post a comment, you must register and login.