Two star performances breathe life into Tennessee Williams, Vanessa Redgrave’s memories could do with an edit, while Jasmine Lee-Jones is someone to watch Tennessee Williams can make the stage vibrate to one character’s unravelling nerves. And he can capsize it with a slew of torrid guff. What he doesn’t usually offer is lull. But The Night of the Iguana is a particularly locked-in play – the central image is a beast on a leash – and James Macdonald’s production is mostly becalmed. Clive Owen , returning to the West End after 18 years, plays the defrocked priest who, having specialised in sleeping with young girls and then hitting them, is apparently now on the rack, in a hotel on the edge of a cliff: the dilemma of the play is “how to live beyond despair and still live”. Owen has all the symptoms of anxiety: legs that twitch in repose, intemperate outbursts, sweatiness that goes beyond a response to heat. Yet though he is troubling, he never looks dangerously anguished. He is less the primeval creature of