As the lights fade to black in the final scene of the Guthrie Theater’s production of “A Streetcar Named Desire,” with Blanche DuBois being led away to the state insane asylum and the others embracing in misery or muted triumph, we are left to wonder: What comes next?

The future is grim for Blanche, of course. And sad-sack Mitch, who thought he had found a purpose in life — to console someone needier than himself — will probably meander on as a lonely bachelor. Stanley will inevitably self-destruct, and the only question is whether he’ll take others down with him.

But what will happen to Stella? Ah, that’s the question that arises from the interpretation that the performers and director John Miller-Stephany have assembled at the Guthrie.

Years ago, the director of a “re-interpreted” production of “Streetcar” told me that Tennessee Williams’ play is all about Stella, the younger sister and steadfast wife, and that outsized portrayals of Stanley and Blanche — especially by actors like Marlon Brando and Vivian Leigh — have distorted it. To emphasize the point, the director cast a short, pudgy, bald-headed actor as Stanley, resulting in scenes that were more petulant than volcanic.

The version didn’t quite work, however. Stella came off as more of a motherly doormat than a central character, and the actress playing Blanche emphasized her mental instability, which made the competition with Stanley come off as unconvincing. But it was an interesting attempt, and I remember it after forgetting lots of other versions of “Streetcar.”

In the Guthrie’s version, there’s an obvious attempt to avoid any outsized elements in Blanche and Stanley. She’s not as nutty, and he’s not the threatening sociopath. More significantly, all of the characters are distinctly self-aware. One result of this is heightened humor, much of it knowing and ironic. This version of “Streetcar” has more laughs than any I’ve experienced — which is not to say that it isn’t also a heavy play.

The element of self-awareness is especially true of Gretchen Egolf’s portrayal of Blanche. Instead of being a moth fluttering in a fantasy world of post-antebellum gentility, Egolf’s Blanche is utterly conscious of her deceptions, most of them designed to manipulate others. Some of Williams’ most poetic lines are lost in her chatter, but there’s also a compelling fierceness to Egolf’s performance and a hard-edged energy to her.

Ricardo Antonio Chavira creates a Stanley who realizes that his volatile temper is a character flaw. And in his shattering rape scene, Chavira’s Stanley lubricates his rage with liquor in order to go through with what is an assault in the form of a sex act. There’s a surprising tenderness to him, too.

But perhaps the most utterly self-aware character is Stacia Rice’s portrayal of Stella. Rice makes her mentally tougher than Stanley — and one wonders why, beyond sex, that she was attracted to him in the first place. But there’s no question that Stella has committed herself to making the most of her husband — and that the clock is ticking on him measuring up. In an early scene, for instance, Stella tells Blanche that Stanley is better material than the slob pals who bowl, drink beer and play poker with him. Well, maybe.

Conscious loyalty leads to Stella’s horrific betrayal of her sister, and to speculation about consequences left to imagination as we ride down the Guthrie’s long exiting escalator. Who’s the more tragic figure here — Blanche or Stella?

The poet Mark Van Doren once said about the plays of Shakespeare that one should see them without being “too knowing.” A greatness about a play like “A Streetcar Named Desire” is the way shadings of individual performances cause ripples that splash against each other.

The earthbound performances of Egolf and Chavira as Blanche and Stanley may not satisfy those who want to see a timorous moth engulfed by a white-hot flame. And the Guthrie staging, which features between-scenes dumb shows by actors portraying “people in New Orleans,” may strike some as too stagy, though plays by Williams are the very best examples of truth being revealed in artificiality. But it’s a show that provokes reflection about a play that is part of the American canon. Commend the actors and the Guthrie for that.

"A Streetcar Named Desire." Play runs through Aug. 29, Guthrie Theater. Tickets $24-$60.