At 239 minutes, spread across two discs each with an intermission, this is probably the longest movie I've ever seen. (Don't you believe any list that claims Gone with the Wind is longest.) Add in the basis on a nonmusical play for adults, which usually means mostly talking in a single room, and you know you're gonna need patience. The fame of the title, the unlikelihood of me reading or watching the play, and the desire to challenge myself gave me the courage to sit through it across two nights.
In 1912 New York, the ironically named Harry Hope (Fredric March in his final role) owns a seedy bar/boarding house whose regular patrons/residents are a miserable bunch I wouldn't care to meet. Apparently the first out-of-the-ordinary event on screen is the arrival of a new guy (young Jeff Bridges), who's run into trouble and wants help from a former comrade in the anarchist movement with a death wish, Larry Slade (Robert Ryan, who did die before the film's release). Regardless, bartender Rocky Pioggi (Tom Pedi) and the other patrons look forward to Harry's 60th birthday party that evening, not least for the semiannual visit of their pal Theodore "Hickey" Hickman (Lee Marvin), whose past purportedly funny story about his wife's infidelity with an iceman partly explains the title. But Hickey's not the same man when he arrives. He'll still buy everyone drinks, yet he doesn't feel a need for any himself. He says he's found peace and wants everyone to do the same, by giving up their pipe dreams.
Hickey's initial brightening of the room has trouble lasting. Now, I'm rather stoic and unambitious myself, but I don't preach it, especially ad nauseam as he does. Expect to hear the term "pipe dream" about 50 times, mostly from him. Guess he still has one of his own in wishing to convert all his associates. Many are inspired to act and discover that they really aren't ready to do what they thought they wanted, but it doesn't have the effect Hickey expected. You need a special kind of arrogance to assume that everyone's the same, even when they have a lot in common. Interestingly, Larry is the most observant, particularly in what Hickey doesn't say. How did he find this alleged peace?
The "racial" tag pertains to the one Black character (Moses Gunn). Most of the time, he and the rest don't mind each other, but when tempers flare, the slurs come out, in both directions. Less offensive but more prominent is the banter between a Brit (Martyn Green) and a South African (George Voskovec) who fought on opposite sides of the Second Boer War. I should also warn you that the cast consists of 12 men and 3 women, the latter of whom are all prostitutes under Rocky's protection, and nastier words for their professions come to the fore. At any rate, it's hard to say who comes off looking the worst in this hive of scum and villainy. Possibly the lush who yells nuttily on the few occasions he wakes up (Sorrell Brooke).
I later learned that Eugene O'Neill may well have taken inspiration from The Lower Depths. I see the resemblance now, but I'm pleased to say TIC is a little more watchable, provided, again, that you have the time and staying power. My previous experience with O'Neill consisted of a stage production of A Moon for the Misbegotten and the 1962 movie of Long Day's Journey into Night. Seems that bleakness is his bread and butter.
From what I gather, this adaptation is very faithful to the play. One of the rare critic complaints about it is that it doesn't come into its own, but doing so, I figure, would garner more complaints. For my part, I kept thinking of how a modern director, even without cutting any lines, could easily have picked up the pace and shaved off at least an hour. And while the actors do a fine job, I had a few very different sorts in mind.
Perhaps I'd have preferred a stage production of TIC. I may never know, because I rarely care to revisit stories this glum. But at least I feel informed.
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