"Michael Blakemore's production of Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey into Night (1971) was a scrupulous reappraisal of a masterpiece superbly designed, lit and acted. As the morphine-addicted Mary Tyrone, playing opposite Olivier in towering form, Cummings was heartbreaking in her nervous, fluttering early scenes, progressing through the evening into the night of a drug-induced private world, reaching an achingly desolating close. The performance was a popular Evening Standard Best Actress Award winner."
This quote from the "Independent" obituary of Constance Cummings fits the TV version as well - the cuts are made smoothly and do not diminish the power of the play. There is a great advantage in having close-ups of the actors in an intimate, family drama of this kind.
The play had not been too successful on the English stage before this production, where attention to detail extends to having actors who sound convincingly American, and of Irish origin at that. Also, the mood is not constantly oppressive and gloomy: the opening scenes are light-hearted, at least on the surface. Olivier has always been a master at finding humour among tragedy: one example is in the great scene where he regrets his wasted talent and does a parody of his own Othello. At one point in this scene, he climbs up onto a table to unscrew the lightbulbs in the chandelier, teetering perilously on the edge before stepping backwards down again. This brought the house down in the stage version: my one regret is that here we do not see his feet! This occurs in the middle of a drunken scene which is all the more convincing when one knows that Olivier never drank before or during a performance. Mary Tyrone is the role on which the whole play hinges but Olivier's part is bigger and more developed (and his last leading role on any stage). He switches from sudden rage to ironic detachment or expressions of love or despair with astonishing virtuosity. The permanently wrinkled brow and depressed mouth betray a deeply disillusioned man reminiscent of his Archie Rice.
Nor is the acting of the two sons to be underestimated. Edmund, the younger, is of fragile health like his mother. The elder son is a drunken wastrel whose bluster recalls his father. Both are perfect foils to their father and give as good as they get. All three men are redeemed, and indeed tortured, by their self-awareness and self-loathing, whereas Mary floats, almost literally, on a cloud of the past. At the end, she floats onstage like a wraif, stunning the men into semi-soberness. The future indeed seems bleak for the whole family: it is the insight into their characters which serves as a form of catharsis.
This DVD is indispensable: a truly great actor at the height of his powers at the centre of a top-notch cast in a superb production of the greatest American play - at a giveaway price.