Though some consider this one of Eugene O'Neill's finest plays, THE ICEMAN COMETH does not translate well to the screen. No matter what Frankenheimer pulled from his bag of directorial tricks, the work remains stagey and talky on celluloid; even the majestic talent of March cannot turn it
March runs a saloon peopled by has-beens and drunks. All their lives, including March's, have been lived and lost; only their memories remain, voiced despairingly through bitter nostalgia. The only meager salvation for this bevy of forlorn creatures is the expected arrival of Marvin, a hardware
salesman who drops by once a year to regale the customers with his forced h...