Eugene O’Neil’s Nine-Act Play

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 312, 24 March 1928, Page 22

Eugene O’Neil’s Nine-Act Play

“Strange Interlude” Is a Great Theme EFFECT ON FUTURE DRAMA The town —the theatrical part of it—has burned with enthusiasm and gone cold with indifference over the production of Eugene O’Neill’s “Strange Interlude,” writes a New York critic. 'T'O many the play, written in nine acts and performed from 5.15 o’clock in the afternoon until 11.15 at night, with an intermission of an hour and a half for dinner, is by far the most significant addition to American drama made within the memory of this generation. To their opponents, it is. no more than a freak play, overwritten, pretentious, andlas bloaty with self-pride in its sheer bulk as a seven-foot prize fighter. I, being a hopeful young person, take sides with the first group. “Strange Interlude” is, I think, stripped of everything those who dislike it may consider silly and artificial appendages, is still o”Neill’s greatest play, and will, by reason of its revolutionary form, have a decided effect upon the drama of the future. This new form includes an adaptation of the idea employed by Alice Gerstenberg in her single-act play, “Overtones,” in which each character was accompanied by another self that spoke what was in the mind, as well as what was expressed in the spoken word of that character. O’Neill has each character speak its own thought, either before or after an audible speech. And during the speaking of that thought, which practically restores the “aside” of the old drama to common and honourable usage, all action of the other characters is halted. Listeners Interested Thus, if Nina Leeds, the heroine, is sewing and carrying on a conversation with Sam Evans, the man she marries, and they are sitting on opposite sides of a table, she continues sewing so long as Sam’s remarks are directed to her. But the moment he begins to wonder what effect his statement or his question may have upon her, and expresses this wonder in speech, she ceases sewing and holds the pose until he finishes. Then she either continues momentarily to stare and to think aloud of what her reply shall be, or she resumes sewing and answers him naturally. At first, of course, this all seems strange and foolish. Particularly when the spoken thought seems irrelevant and only holds up the action. But gradually you become accustomed to it, and finally, before the play has covered more than two of its nine acts, you find yourself not only interested in the novelty, but eager to know the mind wanderings of the characters. Gradually it dawns upon' you, or at least it so dawned upon me, that these characters thus made completely revealing, are much more interesting as human studies than the conventional single-minded, flat voiced individuals, who speak much, but reveal little. New Fascination Here we get the whole person, the full rounded and complete personality. Here are' human cheats honestly exposed, sometimes to their discredit, occasionally to their glorification. And the story takes on a new fascination by reason of its completeness. I do not mean to say that you do not weary occasionally of the length and repetition of much of “Strange Interlude.” But Its highlights are flaming memories, and I never have sat with any audience that was apparently more closely held by a drama than was the first audience that saw this play. The text is adult and bold in its naming of names and biological classifications. But it is a boldness the honest frankness of which serves as its own defence. There are fine performances in the interpretation of “Strange Interlude.” The finest of them being given by Lynn Fontanne as the unhappy Nina. Good actors, you will find, become great actors when given great parts to play, and great actors become inspired.