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The posthumously Pulitzered play thats commonly considered ONeills masterpiece is his most autobiographical.
Its characters, the Tyrones, are barely veiled analogues for ONeills own troubled family.
Theres the younger brother Edmund, the ONeill figure, a still-finding-himself tubercular young poet.
But here in Eyres draggy, monotone revival, the tortured journey feels even longer than usual.
Its not because the actors talk slowly.
Rather, being British, they tend to drive through ONeills prolixity at a fair clip.
Keenan is the biggest culprit here.
Because Ill do my damnedest to make you fail.
Got to take revenge.
Theyre two or three words long nasty, brutish, and short.
But Keenan accesses none of this devastating firepower.
All the same, hes got charisma and physical grace, and perhaps thereisa real Jamie in there somewhere.
But Eyres not pulling it out of him.
Hes also not doing much hard directorial pushing with either of his big stars.
Which is a pity, since its ONeills mission statement.
What can be said for Eyres conception of the play is that he undoubtedly sees it as Marys.
Shes so tightly wound that she doesnt have much of a transformation to make.
For all her commitment to Marys excessive nervous energy, Manville struggles to make an actual long journey.
Her sudden first act cry of Oh, Im sosick and tiredof pretending this is a home!
Here, the punch lands.
Alas, its one moment in three and a half hours.
For much of that time, I found myself staring at Rob Howells exquisite tilted prism of a set.
Its all breathtakingly pretty and hugely distracting.
Long Days Journey Into Nightis at the Brooklyn Academy of Music through May 27.
