Long Day’s Journey Into Night @ The Classics Theatre Project
Promo photo by Kate Voskova
—Sam Lisman
Truth in advertising is a wonderful thing, so one really must appreciate Eugene O’Neill’s honesty when he titled his final play (intended not to be seen for 25 years after his death, a directive his widow countermanded) A Long Day’s Journey into Night. It is long (with intermission, The Classics Theatre Project’s production clocks in at just over three and a half hours) and it is dark. Dark as the night itself. TCTP’s production also contains some of the best acting I could imagine.
Describing this play is difficult. Many are already familiar with it, while any synopsis gives away too much information. Suffice it to say, four very broken people (a couple and their two adult children, family name Tyrone) are living together for the summer. That they share love and concern among them is obvious, but it is too often overshadowed by their resentments, their grudges, their hurts, and their disappointments. These people should not be living together.
That the play is pretty much autobiographical makes it all the more bleak: addiction, miserliness, what we would now call enabling and codependence, self-loathing, self-delusion, and of course, as stated, overwhelming resentment. That O’Neill wasn’t totally incapacitated by his past is a wonder.
But despite all that, there are two things going for this show at The Stone Cottage in Addison: the language of the play, which includes O’Neill’s own poetry, with that of Shakespeare, Baudelaire, and a half-dozen others; and this extraordinary cast.
Mary-Margaret Pyeatt is phenomenal as Mary Tyrone. A shadow of her former self, glimpses of which we’re allowed to see, she behaves (and talks) almost schizophrenically at times, admitting to certain things, only to immediately snap back into her denials. Pyeatt plays her as vulnerable, pitiable, and inexcusably infuriating, all at once.
So too is Stephen Miller as Mary’s husband James. He’s a tightwad, an alcoholic (a functioning drunk, but a drunk nonetheless), and a man who sold his soul without ever realizing it. That Miller can keep the audience from hating him is a major feat. That he can make his impassioned defense believable and even understandable is a marvel.
TCTP managing artistic director Joey Folsom plays the bitter, self-destructive, self-loathing older son Jamie. Folsom exudes drunken despair. Even sober, early in the morning, he appears ready to roll into the sewer—or, more likely, to dive into a whiskey bottle, pulling the cork in after him. (Following Folsom’s stellar performance as Brick in last summer’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, one wonders if he’s typecasting himself or sending out a veiled cry for help.)
But the standout of the play is Noah Riddle, himself just out of school, as younger son Edmund. (Plot sidebar: What Shakespearean actor, as James is, names his younger son Edmund? Hello, would he have also named daughters Goneril and Regan?) Granted, Riddle has the advantage of playing the most sympathetic member of the family (damning with faint praise), but Edmund is also a pretty miserable person. A nihilist, he sees nothing but darkness everywhere in the world he looks, a sensibility that comes out both in his poetry and his stage dialogue. But Riddle takes it a step farther, portraying an awareness and cynicism he's too young (as is Edmund) to have experienced. His coughing, his world-weary looks, the slightly-amused, slightly-contemptuous smiles he directs at family members when they aren’t looking at him, are perfect. He’s expressing more than just ennui or angst.
Cheryl Lowber has the smallest part, that of the “greenhorn” maid Cathleen. Her thick Irish brogue seemed spot on to my untrained ear, without becoming the standard parody. She manages to convey a sympathetic yet baffled disdain towards Mary, which is exactly what the role calls for. The longing for the whiskey, even while slighting the men for drinking it, is very apparent.
And director Jackie L Kemp does a wonderful job keeping it all together and moving. In a play this long and dark, this visceral and cerebral, the cast has to keep up the energy and the momentum—or the audience doesn’t stand a chance. Since no designers were listed, I’ll credit Kemp (and perhaps Folsom?) for the effective set: normally I dislike a design that leaves actors with their backs to parts of the audience, but within the tiny confines of Stone Cottage (set up to accommodate fewer than two dozen viewers), the living room/parlor setup felt just right. The mood music could have been a little softer, but that might have been because I was sitting in front of the computer. And bring a cushion—it’s a long time to sit in an uncomfortable chair.
At a time when addiction born of a need for pain relief is ubiquitous, and alcoholism runs rampant, this play is as timely as ever (or maybe more so). It’s a long, difficult play for an audience to watch: miserable people living miserable lives, doing everything possible (both passive-aggressively and aggressive-aggressively) to make those around them more miserable.
But it’s also a masterclass (I hate the overuse of that word) on fine acting and language. Watching TCTP’s production is like exercising or eating unappealing vegetables: it’s a slog, but it’s so good for you. It’s an actual shame that so few people will have the opportunity to see this show, and these performances.
WHEN: May 19-June 11, 2023
WHERE: The Stone Cottage, Addison Arts Center campus
