Just on the off-chance that the tone and content of this one strikes you as no more than a childish fit of pique, I urge you to recall how you felt the last time some shop, bank, state or government office, credit card representative, billing officer for the phone company, Civil Service slavey, college, or IRS agent gave you a hard time over some incredibly simple matter.
If, after you’ve gone through what I report here, you didn’t feel like raping their cattle and sowing salt on their loved ones, then you deserved every bit of frustration and humiliation you got.
The American Film Theatre folded very quickly. If I recall correctly, it managed to float for only two seasons, and then sank without a trace, taking vast sums of debt with it.
Eventually, when it was released to television, I saw the AFT production of The Iceman Cometh. Jason Robards, Jr. was marvelous, as always. But the production was no more unusual than any of the many previous stagings of that O’Neill standard.
Hardly worth all the good intentions I expended in its behalf.