Family tragedy soaked in whiskey: rarely has anyone dissected the American dream with such razor-sharp precision.
The Tyrone family's house is blisteringly hot. The only shadows are cast by the upheavals taking place inside: The mother's morphine addiction, the son's consumption, his brother's lifestyle, everyone's alcoholism, the dead third brother. But they don't talk about these things. Instead, everyone sneaks around, lies to each other and makes every effort to avoid the obvious truth. Because despite all the mistrust that smoulders beneath the feigned idyll, these people love each other in all desperation: the fear of losing each other is greater than the will to address the problems. Everyone is their own catastrophe. Eugene O'Neill describes with unsparing honesty a day in the life of a family searching for forgiveness and support, but which has long since severed all the lifelines it could reach for.
What remains is the beauty of the chance that lies in the hope that, with one more day, everything can turn out all right.
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