by AMY BARRATT

If Eugene O'Neill wrote Long Day's Journey Into Night today, plenty of artistic directors would be interested in it, but they'd all probably insist he cut a good hour from the running time. Playwrights aren't allowed to write O'Neill-style four-acters anymore, in which characters liberally quote poetry and make their own page-length poetic speeches.

The Long Day's Journey now playing at the Centaur is a respectful, almost reverent, interpretation of this autobiographical piece set in 1912, written around 1941, and first produced in 1956, three years after O'Neill's death. David Latham's direction is at times unforgivably static. O'Neill may have imagined two actors sitting at a table talking for nearly half an hour (see the top of Act 4) but a director's imagination should make the scene a bit more theatrical.

The production stars two great Canadian actors, Rosemary Dunsmore and Albert Millaire, as Mary and James Tyrone, characters based on O'Neill's parents. Casting the Québécois Millaire in this play seemed like a bold choice when I first heard about it; having seen the show, I'd now have to say it was an unfortunate one. I wouldn't mind that Millaire speaks English with a slight accent - and I don't mean slightly Irish - but on opening night he seemed to be having a hard time just remembering and getting through Tyrone's speeches. It's understandable, as this stuff is challenging even if English is your first language; just ask Brendan Murray, the young actor playing Edmund.

The character of James Tyrone is an actor, a former matinee idol who is never entirely off stage. Even in his darkest moments, he can't help being aware of the effect he's making. I didn't get any of this from Millaire's performance. Tyrone is also a man who, according to O'Neill, looks young for his 65 years and has never been sick a day in his life. Millaire plays him as old, tired and apparently suffering from chronic pain: he winces every time he sits down or stands up. This seemed so off as an interpretation that it occurred to me that it might be Millaire in pain and trying to hide it. Also, instead of Tyrone's "famous beautiful voice," Millaire sounded hoarse.

I can totally understand why Centaur would want to cast such an eminent actor. What I don't get is why this part, in this play.

Alain Goulem has the heartiness and facility with the language that could make him an excellent James Tyrone some day. Here, he does a fine job with the role of Jamie, the elder son. Murray is fine as long as his character isn't waxing poetic, and Laura Teasdale provides some very welcome comic relief as the flat-footed maid Cathleen. But the production belongs to Dunsmore. She is simply one of the most focused actors we have. She works out exactly what she is doing every second she is on stage, then forgets about it and becomes the tortured Mary Tyrone.

Guido Tondino's set thankfully strays from O'Neill's stultifyingly realistic description. With his towering bookcases and translucent scrim, Tondino shows us the Tyrone house as it might appear in memory, or in a dream.

The production runs three hours and 15 minutes, including one intermission. It is worth seeing for Dunsmore alone. On the other hand, O'Neill's work is better served over all by the 1962 movie with Katharine Hepburn and Ralph Richardson or the 1996 Canadian version with Martha Henry and William Hutt, both available on video.

Long Day's Journey Into Night runs to June 5 at the Centaur Theatre (453 St-François-Xavier), 288-3161

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