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A CurtainUp DC Review
Long Day’s Journey into Night
Fortunately, at Arena Stage, in its intimate Kreeger theater, there is a very memorable and commendable Journey, thanks in large part to the incandescent performance of Helen Carey as Mary, the tragic lady whose pain killers have led her into the vortex of addiction. Like many addicts, Mary lies to her family, claiming that the pills she takes are for the rheumatism in her hands. From the play’s beginning, one of Ms. Carey’s subtle clues as to what is to come is how she holds her hands — one finger open, the others closed into a fist. It is as though she holds much of the tension of her life in those arthritic hands. Mary has plenty to worry about: she hasn't had much of a life married to an actor who is tight-fisted with money and heavy-handed while pouring his booze. She bore three children, one of whom died. Of the two who survived, James Jr., (Andy Bean) tells truths she does not wish to hear and Edmund (Nathan Darrow), the poet, the stand-in for the playwright in this his most autobiographical play, is ill and weakened by tuberculosis. As James Sr., Peter Michael Goetz, who has a magnificent baritone voice, delivers his lines in a manner consistent with who he is meant to be, an actor,a stentorian whose stage presence is noted by all who encounter him, on stage and off. More precisely O’Neill’s father, who ruined or made (depending on your point of view) his career by playing the same role over and over, a sinecure that kept the family financially afloat – almost. The steady income the work provided also gave James Sr. the cash to invest in real estate which did not always turn out well. He was a miser, something his sons and especially his wife remind him of frequently. It was his hiring of a cheap “hotel doctor” who prescribed morphine for the pain she experienced in childbirth that led to Mary’s addiction. James Tyrone Jr., as played by Andy Bean, is a worthless lout with one redeeming feature: he loves his younger brother. The physically and emotionally fragile Edmund, in Nathan Darrow’s interpretation is the far more likeable of the two. Sympathy for his predicament is strong and so is his performance. As the Irish maid Cathleen, Helen Hedman strikes all the right cadences. Costume designer Susan Benson has outfitted the actors appropriately and there is something special about Mary’s ladylike mauve outfits that make her look more like a social success rather than a lonely homebody. Hisham Ali’s set is something of a disconnect, however. Ceiling-to-floor shelves filled with books are highly appropriate of course, as are the portrait of Shakespeare on the wall and the large chandelier that James Sr. likes to turn down to save money, but the greige colored walls (redolent of the real and metaphoric fog that is referred to frequently) and beautifully upholstered furniture suggest a room featured in a design magazine rather than the house Mary refers to as shabby. What Ali and Phillips seem to be saying with this set is that the house was not shabby in spite of Mary’s protestations. I remember vividly the Long Day’s Journey I saw on Broadway almost a decade ago. Vanessa Redgrave gave a very mannered performance as Mary, leading audiences to think that she had been the one who had a long stage career. She was over the top. Jamie, the elder son, played brilliantly by Philip Seymour Hoffman, became the center of the family and the production. Fortunately, Arena’s Journey is well-balanced and quite wonderful.
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