

Tennessee Williams’ 1955 play Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, winner of the Tony Award for Best Play and the Pulitzer Prize, is one of his best-known and frequently-revived plays. This tale of a wealthy southern farming family torn apart by shameful secrets and the web of lies spun around them is a sordid tale of greed, self-denial, and self-destruction — yet as mesmerizing as a car wreck you can’t avert your eyes from.
The venerable Bucks County Playhouse, usually a home for musicals, takes on Willams’ play, under the direction of Eric Rosen. What stands out in this production is that the once-shocking topics of sexual dysfunction, alcoholism, and homosexuality now take a back seat to the cruelly casual sexism and spousal mental abuse practiced, to greater and lesser extents, by all the male characters.
The story takes place during a double family celebration. It’s the family patriarch, Big Daddy Pollitt’s, birthday, and his return from an extensive medical examination where his doctors tell him and his wife, Big Mama, that he is perfectly healthy. The truth, given to the couple’ two sons, Brick and Gooper, and their wives is different: Big Daddy has terminal, widely metastasized cancer and not much longer to live.
Gooper and his annoyingly fertile wife Mae begin working on a plan to wrestle control of the estate from Big Mama and favored son Brick and his wife Maggie “the Cat,” who do not have any children. Maggie sees the danger posed by Gooper and Mae, but Brick acts unconcerned, preferring to stay in the alcohol-induced haze he’s maintained following the suicide of his best friend, Skipper — and avoiding all physical contact with Maggie.
Under Eric Rosen’s direction, the cast appear to be as detached from each other as the members of the Pollitt family. Elizabeth A. Davis’ Maggie, aches for a thread of connection with Lucas Dixon’s Brick. Yet it seems she never stops talking at him — possibly because she doesn’t expect any response after all this time. But at least she gets to deliver Williams’ better speeches, unlike Kate Levy’s Big Mama and Bree Elrod’s Mae, who routinely are ordered by their husbands to shut up.
Tony Roper as Gooper well-plays the ignored, overlooked second son, and you can almost forgive his unbounded rapacity, scheming to take control of the family fortune. And towering above them all is Wayne Duvall’s performance as Big Daddy. This Big Daddy has built his farming empire on sheer guts, business savvy, and a voice that can menace with a whisper or flatten with a bellow — but for all that, deeply fears his own mortality.

Jack Magaw’s set, a bedroom suite for Brick and Maggie, has enough room for the cast to stalk each other in family skirmishes, yet feels claustrophobic in the one-on-one confrontations that are a highlight of the play.
Bucks County Playhouse does not often do non-musical productions. In making the effort to tackle a work such as Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, they are to be commended. Tennessee Williams’ plays (including The Glass Menagerie and A Streetcar Named Desire), even with their near-poetic language, Southern settings, and strong female roles, are not often revived, and for that reason, I encourage you to see Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is presented at the Bucks County Playhouse in New Hope, Pennsylvania through May 23, 2026. For more information, or to purchase tickets, go to bcptheater.org.




















































