Catherine:  Long Day’s Journey into Night is a huge play in so many ways: It’s long, visceral and one of the top American dramas. Was the prospect of working on it daunting?

Judith: Yes. Absolutely.

Michael: It was certainly, at the beginning. But as soon as we started rehearsing, that sense of it being daunting fell away. Then we started working beat by beat, moment by moment. It became like any other play.

J-MB: We created our family; it became our specific family. James is a star, but Mary is an ordinary woman. She has her own charm, loveliness, a certain sneakiness and manipulation—and she takes morphine.

Michael, would you say that the role of James Tyrone, in terms of its scope and dramatic intensity, is up there with King Lear, whom you also played at OSF?

MW: Lear is a very different role—much more physically and vocally demanding. We’ve just started rehearsing Act IV, and James basically sits in a chair the whole time. It’s about just four people. It is long, though.

Judith-Marie, do you see similarities between Mary Tyrone and Violet Weston in August: Osage County [OSF, 2011], who both struggle with addiction?

J-MB: Here, too, this is a very different role. Violet is aggressive, witty; she uses her mouth as a weapon. Mary is far more fragile. She’s led a very sheltered life and has a certain snobbery. Other elements that are different are her Irish-Catholicism—the guilt and the shame. The woman she’s modeled after, Ella Quinlan, Eugene O’Neill’s mother, was quite fragile and inexperienced. Remember, the play takes place in 1912. It was the Age of Anxiety that followed the Age of Innocence. Women are starting to come into their own. Ella didn’t know how to deal with it.

Do you think a repertory company like OSF is particularly good at doing ensemble plays like this? Because you have acted with the other actors, you’re already starting with a deep knowledge and comfort level.

MW: This is my fourth time back, but I didn’t know Judith; we were never in the same plays. You wait for chances like this. Despite that, there is a company consciousness at OSF; we weren’t starting from scratch. I’ve worked with Christopher [Liam Moore, the director] before, and with Danforth [Comins, who plays their son Edmund]. Chris creates a cohesive atmosphere, so I knew when I walked in that I could relax. Ah, it’s safe.

J-MB: There’s a kind of warmth going into the room, a trust that’s there from the beginning. Something about being part of OSF that makes a big difference.

MW: The other thing that makes working at OSF different is that you know you will be supported by the technical things: The sets, costumes, voice and text coach, lighting—all that will be first-rate, and that gives you confidence and makes it less daunting.

Are there any specific ways you are establishing your background as a couple and as parents?

MW: This whole play is the background. O’Neill left specific instructions that this play not be published until 25 years after his death and that it never be produced. So he put lots of background information in the stage directions, which is not typical for plays. But his wife, Carlotta, disobeyed him.

J-MB: Yes, there’s so much backstory in the play already that we don’t have to make up so much.

MW: I can tell you what plays he was doing in 1912. James and Jamie were doing a 40-minute version of The Count of Monte Cristo on the vaudeville circuit. They finished in March of that year. We also have photos to draw from. There’s one of the family sitting on the front porch of the house. Eugene is reading; Jamie is stylish, observing the others.

There is a lot of repetition in the play; the characters repeat old grievances over and over. Why do you think O’Neill is doing this?

J-MB: We ask ourselves, what’s new about this? When we repeat ourselves, we’re still trying to get the other person to understand us. I’m working with different tactics to get someone over to my side. It’s what we do. We tell our stories over and over. But these people are deadlocked; the show can’t go on.

MW: It’s a hopeless spiral. In one scene, in the middle of almost fist-fighting, they’re almost retaking their vows. The love burbles up.

J-MB: Mary is hoping that love will sustain this family. She’d like to erase everything but love. It comes out as a desperate need. How can you show love to someone who needs you more than loves you? Every family has a bit of dysfunction in it. There are certain topics that are anathema, secrets and lies in every family dynamic. You forget because it’s never talked about.

MW: But you do know that if you ever need it, you can pick out a secret and hurt them with it.

For more information about Long Day’s Journey into Night, click here.