The Iceman Cometh

Back on 31st October 2011 at the other place I talked of the ax man coming. Which is evidence that 'The Iceman Cometh' must be lodged somewhere in the brain, and as a result of which a copy of the play was probably one of the books I lifted from the second hand department at Anglesey Abbey. Can't be sure as the record of that visit on 6th October is incomplete. Maybe it was Tunbridge Wells. Presumably got to the brain in the first case for being a play that my parents would have known about; a play which was very much of their generation of play goers.

The book didn't have one of the little green jobs mentioned on 30th October, but it did have a little black and red job which tells me that the book originated from Esch of Edmonton, Alberta. A third printing, probably 1946 or 1947. After that it appears to have had at least two other owners and to have passed through the second hand department at Foyles for 5/- (old speak). It looks as if I paid the rather larger sum (in cash terms anyway) of £3.50 (new speak).

The paper with which the book was made was sufficiently old speak that you could see the pattern left by the wire mesh on which the paper was originally laid, with the full effect to be had by holding a page up to the light. A wire mesh water mark, as it were.

Started to read it the other day to find that it was interesting, so interesting that I had better get the DVD to save me the bother of reading the rest of it. Amazon connected me to http://broadwayclassics.co.uk/ who were able to send me a DVD of a 1960 production for New York's channel 13, just over 3 hours of it, for £12 or so. A DVD which we have now watched, in two sittings, mirroring the original broadcast. A DVD which turned out to be the second technically flawed DVD that I have purchased from Amazon, with the first, coincidentally, being another classic, 'The Searchers' (see 26th September). We shall try buffing the thing up before we next play it. Maybe some grease got onto the packing line. Maybe one should not trust these small outfits which do not run to proper quality control.

Back at the play, Eugene O'Neill might have been to Princeton and Harvard, but he certainly knew all about low bars and the people in them. He was after all, the son of an Irish actor and was born in a Broadway hotel room (according to the handy entry in Wikipedia). But having watched this play, not a surprise to learn that he suffered from depression and alcoholism, amongst other ailments.

For me the play was interesting for its portrayal of a grubby pub in or about New York just before the first world war. The people (and their tragedies) in them were recognisable types, with some examples coming to mind from TB. But as a play it seemed a bit forced on the box, too much grandstanding. The slang and funny accents were laid on rather thick. But it would be interesting to see the thing on the stage so I shall keep an eye out - despite BH not being very keen at all. Bring on the episodic BBC version of 'Vanity Fair' (forthcoming).

PS: O'Neill goes in for the most elaborate stage directions which I recall seeing.