Theatre Reviews

Eugene O'Neill's is one of America's foremost playwrights and 'Long Day's Journey Into Night', perhaps his most famous work, is a weighty endeavour about the darker side of family interaction.

The Druid production, directed by Garry Hynes, offers us the entire four hours of O'Neill's autobiographical masterpiece - no judicious editing here. Emotionally draining for actors and the audience alike, except for those in the latter who insist on leaving their phones on, leaving everybody else mystified at their ignorance, while listening to the ludicrous ringtones. Will people ever learn?!

That aside, the troubles, visited on the Tyrone family in Connecticut, are given full expression. A constant presence throughout is the whiskey bottle, a supposed means of comfort, but just like any dependency, only serves to elicit more recriminations and morbid thoughts.

James Tyrone Snr (Cromwell) a retired actor, who could have been a star, but took 'easy' options along the way. Totally self-absorbed, his miserly ways have alienated the rest of his family and this is most telling in the behaviour of his wife Mary (Mullen), who is on the brink of losing her long running battle with Morphine addiction and the many vitriolic thoughts of the alcoholic older son Jamie (Kelly) The younger son Edmund (Esper) is clearly unwell; a summer cold hiding a more serious medical condition.

Over the course of this long day, amid all the bickering and puts down, we realise that these people do love each other, but unfortunately, access to the self destruct button is readily available. O'Neill's writing shows this by way of short, succinct sentences eschewing some form of forgiveness or tenderness, followed by the often barbed and cruel exchanges that underline the relationship between a father and a son.

Quite simply these people are haunted by a past event. James Snr, in a touching monologue, spoke lovingly of his mother and how she worked hard as a labourer to support her family following the death of her husband. He recalled the time she got an extra dollar at Christmas from her employer, and the extra food she subsequently brought home.

Mary also ruefully reflects on what have been - the loss of a child, and perhaps most tellingly, could things have been different if Edmund had not been born? Obviously Edmund feels much guilt and confusion, as it was after his birth that Mary's addiction began. Nevertheless, he is a fascinating character - a dreamer who wishes he had been born a seagull.

The acting from all concerned is top class. Cromwell exudes a dominant presence on stage, the demeanour of the suave actor in sharp contrast to the unspoken sadness so clearly etched on his face as the hours grind by.

The ghost like figure of Mary is wonderfully realised by Mullen; the ever increasing disillusionment so apparent as the drugs take a firm grip. The final scene in which she holds a wedding dress and the manner in which she fondles it is so reminiscent of the way a mother would hold a baby. A sad reminder of the past and Mullen's pitiful ramblings certainly left a mark.

Aidan Kelly portrayed the tough guy brother, who too easily lets the mask slip with aplomb, while Michael Esper, was equally as effective as the physically and emotionally embattled younger sibling.

Francis O'Connor's set with rooms partly visible, leaving one to wonder what other secrets could be out there, is suitably eerie. The combined efforts of all, with Garry Hynes at the helm, make for an absorbing and highly charged theatrical endeavour. 

James McMahon