Long Day's Journey Late Night. O'Neill expressed the full agony of American Family life in his best play, which is also the finest American drama, Sidney Lumet, who hasn't made a fine film since, assembled a great cast to perform it-Katherine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson, Jason Robards and Dean Stockwell-and picked a master cineniatographer, Boris Kaufman, to make the images jibe with the faces and dialogue. The result is devastating.

Wild Strawberries. Bergman's land-mark film, and Rules of the Game, Jean Renoir's one undisputed masterpiece, have been placed together on a double-bill during the Harvard Square Theater's Janus Film Festival. I can't think of a better evening of film. Bergman's work marked that director's broadest progression away from both adolescent psychological drama and baroque imagery, towards a mature acceptance of emotional struggle and transformation, and a pure film style based on character. Dealing with an aging doctor's recognition of his sins during a trip to Stockholm taken with his daughter-in-law, the film develops in vignettes suggested by the scenes which remind the doctor of his youth. It is not as piercing as such later Bergman films as Persons and A Passion, but it is more hopeful, and thus perhaps more satisfying. Victor Sjosfrom's performance as the doctor is simple, direct and true, and Gunnar Fisher's photography is lyrical. Renoir's social satire is as deep and (necessarily) involved as any written or filmed: it is also hugely entertaining. Viewing a tottering upper-class in pre-World War II France. Renoir involves us in an atmosphere where dated concepts of honor attained through individual merit (and in nationalist conquests) melt in the midst of equally outmoded and even blinder French aristocratic gamesmanship. Underneath the veneer, worker and German frustration seethes. The plotting and editing are whirlwind: if you can't catch everything first time around, you ski across the surface of each situation and get some idea of the terrain. The cast includes Marcel Dalio and the director himself.