The Iceman Cometh

Jason Robards' performance as Hickey in the original stage production of "The Iceman Cometh" sealed his reputation as one of the finest actors of the twentieth century and helped to secure O'Neill's as one of America's greatest playwrights. I was fortunate enough to see Robards in the mid-80's revival of the play on Broadway, and his advanced years seemed so relevant to his interpretation that I couldn't imagine what his Hickey might have been like a quarter of a century earlier. Thankfully, this recently released DVD of the 1960 version directed by Sidney Lumet for Public Television has preserved that performance for posterity, and it is truly an unforgettable one. John Frankenheimer's film version of the play is currently unavailable, but one looking for the best possible production need look no further than here.

Robards is matched by a cast that is equal to the challenge of sharing the stage with him. Broadway veterans Myron McCormick, Tom Pedi and James Broderick are magnificent as, respectively, Larry, Rocky and Willie. It is also a treat to see Julie Bovasso and Joan Copeland on hand as two of the bar's unforgettable tarts. Best of all, the young Robert Redford is a terrific Parritt. He looks, if anything, even more handsome than he would when he catapulted to stardom later in the decade, but the true surprise is how powerful his acting is. Parritt is arguably the most demanding role in the play - it left the two talented actors I saw attempt it on Broadway at sea - and Redford is just perfect, giving a riveting and multi-layered performance.

Credit must be given to director Sidney Lumet for filming this production so effectively. There is enough of a sense of live theatre about it to make it compare favorably to an actual live performance, and his selective camera work only enhances this feeling. This production should be seen by all who are fans of Twentieth Century Theatre, and is an absolute must for fans of Eugene O'Neill. One wonders if the powers that be at PBS had any idea of the gift they were passing down to subsequent generations. They earned whatever they ask for in their next pledge drive with this production of "The Iceman Cometh".

This is a kinescope of a live TV production that originally aired on New York television in 1960. It contains one of the most important dramatic performances of the 20th century: Jason Robards' portrayal of Hickey, the traveling salesman who comes to visit his old friends (the down-and-outers who populate Harry Hope's saloon, ca. 1912 in NYC) and tries to sell them "peace" by way of stripping them of their illusions (or "pipe dreams").

Compared to the 1973 feature film version, this TV production lacks polish (remember this was local, live television: small budget and the occasional fluffed line). The supporting performances are, on the whole, not quite as strong as they are in the film (the roles, *other* than Hickey, are definitive in the 1973 movie). However, as Larry Slade and Don Parrit, both Myron McKormick (the original Luther Billis in Broadway's SOUTH PACIFIC) and Robert Redford gain momentum throughout the production, so that their final confrontation at the end of the play is both powerful and poignant.

The principal reason for purchasing this video -- or at least arranging to see it at the Museum of Television and Radio in New York or Los Angeles -- is to see Jason Robards' gut-wrenching performance as Hickey. It's easy to see why this role made Robards a star in 1956 when he first took it on for the Circle-in-the-Square's off-Broadway revival (the play was written in 1939, published in 1940 and first performed in 1946). He brings to Hickey a restless, glad-handing, self-hatred that can change rhythms on a dime. Compared to Lee Marvin's flat, two-dimensional performance in the 1973 film and Kevin Spacey's hysteria-prone interpretation in the recent stage revival, Robards' Hickey seems entirely fleshed out. It's that rare performance that is both entirely theatrical and yet manages to be completely natural at the same time. By the time Robards gets to his justly famous 20 minute monologue near the end of the play, you realize that this has been all about him and, his protestations to the contrary, he doesn't give a damn about his old friends -- or anything else. It's a devastating moment, and one that is unfortunately missing from the otherwise very fine 1973 movie.

There are other pleasures to be had from this production aside from Robards' Hickey. There's a chance to see Tom Pedi as Rocky, the "bartender" in the role he created (and would play still again in the 1973 movie) as well as Sorrell Booke's Hugo, the immigrant Anarchist, in the role that he too would go on to play again in the feature film version. Also of special note is Farrell Pelly's performance as Harry Hope, the proprietor of the saloon. His performance is quite different from Fredric March's in the 1973 movie, but in its blustery way, just as effective. The late, great Julie Bovasso (John Travolta's mother in SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER, among other superb character roles) gives the finest performance yet as one of O'Neill's "tarts." O'Neill wasn't at his best when he created these roles (the only women to appear in the play), but Bovasso manages to create an indelible impression as Pearl, despite the cartoonish nature of her lines.

The video transfer done by Broadway Archives is impeccable. Unfortunately the elements they had to work with were not. Still a kinescope with a couple of glitches shouldn't be enough to turn anyone away from one of the finest performances ever given in one of the finest dramas ever written by an American.

Looking for reasons why DVD is so great ? Don't look any further, here is one. And very poignant indeed. Of course the black & white rendering of a play televised in 1960 is lacking in technical refinement. How else could it be.

The acting (and directing) however makes this document unforgettable. There is not one weak link in the cast; a very young Robert Redford is an eye-catcher, but the performance of Jason Robards is nothing less than sheer perfection. This is a true gem.

Parritt to Larry: "I'm scared of him, honest. There's something not human behind his damned grinning and kidding". He's talking about Hickey, and the audience feels the truth in the remark. I don't feel at ease at any moment of the play when Hickey is holding forth, supposedly forcing the others to face their self-deluding. He REALLY protests too much. I think the play is really about Larry--the emotional center of it seems to be him--and the time spent with Hickey's raillery is just wasted for me.

The second criticism: there are just too many characters demanding our attention. Joe, Jimmy Tomorrow, the Captain and the General, Chuck and Cora: why must we be interested in them? O'Neill had a bad habit of writing tracts for our times, fleshed out with superfluous characters.

With all this said, I did enjoy the acting very much. Myron McCormick is splendid as Larry, just cynical enough to make his distance from Parritt believable. Robards uses his voice better than I remember from his other film roles. Tom Pedi as Rocky is roly-poly fun and menace. James Broderick wails and mumbles through his part as Willie, the sickest of the booze hounds. Only Redford seems ill at ease; he knows Parritt is a creep, but he can't do anything with creeps.

When this was shown on play of the week, my wife stayed up until 2 in the morning to see it. I saw it in two parts, each, as I remember it, two hours long. The cast is remarkable, from Jason Robards, Jr. as Hickey, to Robert Redford. Indeed, there wasn't a bad performance in the production. I have often cited this as what television could do if it wanted to. Great.