One of our favorite theater exercises asks an actor to play the part of a king for an improvised scene. Invariably, the actor resorts to clichéd behavior: raised eyebrows, a lifted chin, and a stilted wave of the hand. If the actor were asked to play a prom queen such moves might be more appropriate. For that matter, how does one play a king or queen? The answer is quite simple, actually, once other people are brought into the scene and the actor no longer performs in a vacuum. The crowd bows to the king or queen and all is made clear by the attitude of the gesture—willing or withholding, made from love or fear—and the visible sign speaks volumes about the ruler and the ruled. By himself or herself, the king or queen does nothing.

We feel the same way about O'Neill, whose reputation soared after he died with the 1956 Quintero/Robards productions of The Iceman Cometh and Long Day's Journey into Night. The current best example of bowing to the playwright is Ric Burns's new documentary film. We believe that it is a brilliant film and will serve the playwright well in classrooms and private studies for years to come. We're powerfully moved by the depth of feeling and commitment to excellence that fills every frame of the film and the number of actors, scholars, biographers, critics, producers, directors, both on camera and off, who dedicated themselves to this project. We've been waiting for this film to arrive for a long time and we're thrilled to say that Mr. Burns has surpassed all of our expectations.

We got our first peek at Mr. Burns's film a year ago at the Eugene O'Neill Society's International Conference in Provincetown. While we think the narrative of his film wisely focuses on the Tao House masterpieces, we recognize that there's much more to say about O'Neill. As Agnes Boulton titled her book on her famous husband, Mr. Burns's film tells "part of a long story." Accordingly, this issue starts off with Stephen Black's effort to give a little tragic dignity to Fog and other one-acts from his early years. We particularly like Professor Black's definition of tragedy, rooted in emotional response and experience, and we look forward to reading his future book on the subject. We've also reprinted another essay by him at the very end, invoking once again Stanley Cavell and the philosophy of Wittgenstein, written several years ago but on a late play, The Iceman Cometh.

Service to O'Neill involves more than just articles about him and his plays, but also about his contemporaries and the literary and social life around him. We are particularly pleased to publish Anne Fletcher's article on the diaries of scene designer Mordecai Gorelik. Hiscandid, biased and first hand account of Provincetown Playhouse years in the 1920s gives an historical view of the time, certainly, but anyone who has worked in the theater, or other arts, or in any office, will appreciate the timeless dynamics of ambition, arrogance, pettiness, and insecurity.

In this similar vein of appreciating O'Neill through the study of others, we call readers' attention to the Susan Glaspell books in the review section. Longtime O'Neill publisher McFarland & Company, Inc. has reprinted The Road to the Temple, newly edited by Linda Ben-Zvi. Professor Ben-Zvi's new biography, Susan Glaspell: Her Life and Times is excellent and calls attention to an almost forgotten great writer who nearly went out of print completely. Fortunately, Glaspell scholars are bringing her back into mind with several new books and a new edition of her complete plays forthcoming from McFarland in the near future. We hope that the collaboration between the Glaspell Society and the O'Neill Society at Provincetown will produce future reunions. We certainly look forward to publishing Glaspell scholarship in this journal. While purists may object to non-O'Neill content, we feel strongly that a writer such as Glaspell, a star in her own right, shines even more light on O'Neill.

We're pleased, too, to publish stars of our own, Arthur and Barbara Gelb, who sent us their presentation to the audience of A Touch of the Poet (see review of the performance in this issue) at the Roundabout Theatre Company's Studio 54. The Gelbs co-wrote the Ric Burns documentary with the filmmaker and appear in it as well. In many significant ways the film serves as complement and compliment to their seminal biography of O'Neill.

The posthumous O'Neill renaissance that began 50 years ago with those landmark productions continues today with solid revivals of his works and the dedication of some of our best artists. The start of this year has honored O'Neill with a professional production of one of his late plays and a great new documentary film. The actors and filmmakers are entitled to take their bows. Their humility serves the playwright in whose works we find ourselves.

—Zander Brietzke