Reviewing a masterpiece is an arduous task, and Long Day’s Journey Into Night is undoubtedly an American classic. Instead of attempting a comprehensive review, I will simply share a few thoughts and impressions that came to me upon completing it.
First and foremost, this play requires reading. Its stage directions are extensive, precisely detailed, lyrical, and brilliant. While the dialogue is intense and powerful, it is the transcendent stage directions that elevate this play to greatness. If you were to listen to an audiobook of Long Day’s Journey Into Night, you would miss more than half of its essence.
Of course, the play’s dialogue is also excruciatingly powerful. The four members of the Tyrone family, with whom we embark on this long day’s journey, are the walking wounded, flawed and hurting, each seeking a way to numb their pain. Although we can see that they have love and affection for one another, this only complicates rather than alleviates their conflicts. Each person’s pain is intertwined with the others’, and in turn, they lash out at one another, weaponizing the past and using it like sharp knives. I couldn’t help but think of William Faulkner’s famous quote, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” This could have been the tagline for this play, as the past becomes increasingly present as the day of the play drags on.
Another quote that came to mind when thinking about these Tyrones, less serious but just as fitting, is actor Jeff Goldblum’s line from The Big Chill, “Don’t knock rationalization, where would we be without it? I don’t know anyone who’d get through the day without two or three juicy rationalizations - they’re more important than sex.” For as the Tyrones use the past against each other, each one surrounds themselves with a shield of rationalization, ultimately in vain, attempting to protect themselves from the brutally painful realities of their existence.
Harold Bloom states in the introduction to my copy that Long Day’s Journey Into Night is “The best play in our more than two centuries as a nation.” While I’m not entirely sure I agree (August Wilson’s Fences comes to mind as a worthy contender for that honor), it undoubtedly ranks among the top two or three plays vying for that title. It captures something real and painful in the human experience, and does so with a terrifying beauty. If you can’t see a part of yourself in this play, you’re not truly looking.