Brandon Flynn and Robin Lord Taylor Photo by Russ Rowland

The year is 1947. The duo in question are the playwright Tennessee Williams, riding a wave of success and popularity just two years after his triumphant Broadway debut with The Glass Menagerie, and a young actor by the name of Marlon Brando, who has been tentatively pegged to play the role of Stanley Kowalski in Williams' forthcoming A Streetcar Named Desire. All that is needed is a thumbs up from Williams, and Brando is good to go.

In terms of the basics, Ostrin has done his homework. Elia Kazan, who was set to direct Streetcar on Broadway, was eying 23-year-old Brando for the role but wanted him to meet up with Williams first. It's no great secret that Brando gets the part, so it's the in-between stuff that matters.

In this production, at least, it is Brandon Flynn as Brando who grabs and holds our attention from the time he arrives three days late for his meet-up with Williams (Robin Lord Taylor). As directed by Colin Hanlon, Flynn gives us the future superstar as he might portray one of his early pre-Godfather film characters, all magnetic personality and method actor in the making, down to the mumbling. He is sexy and self-assured when it suits his purposes, yet with an underlying vulnerability that he generally keeps under wraps. It's clear he wants this role, but don't expect him to admit it.

Unfortunately, the Tennessee Williams we see is not up to the challenge of manipulating Brando. Before the younger man shows up, we observe Williams, then in his mid-thirties, interacting with his gal pal Margo Jones (Alison Cimmet, terrific and someone we'd love to see more of here). Jones famously co-directed The Glass Menagerie in its much-lauded Broadway production, though here she is supposed to take it on the chin when Williams casually mentions she won't be directing Streetcar. We also meet his lover Pancho Rodriguez (Sebastián Treviño, fine in what is another underwritten part). Rounding out the cast is Brando's girlfriend-of-the-moment, Jo (Ellie Ricker, a charmer in her own right), whom he has brought with him, possibly to use as an extra measure of bait to bag Williams.

But Williams is really no match for the well-prepared Brando. The famous playwright generally comes off as shallow and self-serving. Between that and his heavy drinking, there's little else we see of his personality, though we know his years of triumph were far from over (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof would come a few years after the success of Streetcar). To the extent that this represents a true picture of the man is almost irrelevant, given that this is mostly the product of Gregg Ostrin's imagination. Kowalski would be a much stronger play if the tug-of-war we witness between Williams and Brando were on more of an equal footing.