It's not that you forget to tell yourself you know better, that's not a blue sky over the French Quarter, you aren't really sweating in a muggy, swampy heat, the tinny piano isn't spilling out of the bar down the block. Watching A Streetcar Named Desire (at Intiman through August 2, tickets $10-$48) doesn't automatically summon up a hi-def New Orleans, circa 1947--but it does create a rapt, illicit, time-stunned two hours, as if you're having a boozy mid-afternoon conversation in a bar, trading giggling fits and pulling the bandages off old wounds for the sake of the sting. more ›