Fire and Ice

Frozen draws from the power of simple, awful facts.

by David Anthony Fox

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Published: Apr 16, 2008

Seth Rozin COLD COMFORT: Catharine K. Slusar (left) and Mary Martello grapple with heavy material in Frozen, occasionally plunging into melodrama. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

Bryony Lavery's Frozen is a four-character play. Or is it? Of the actors onstage, three have large speaking roles, and one is silent. Then again, there's the unseen presence of a fifth person who dominates the story ...

You see, Frozen is about Rhona, a 10-year-old girl who is abducted, sexually abused and murdered in an English suburb. By the time the action begins, she is already gone. Three parallel but intersecting narratives — by the girl's mother, Nancy; a drifter named Ralph; and a psychotherapist named Agnetha, who works with serial killers — explain the details of discovery, grief and the very slow process of acceptance (Frozen takes place over many years, though the timeline is hazy).

This is harrowing material, and for the most part playwright Lavery presents it in an admirably matter-of-fact way, avoiding shock tactics and bathos, and instead drawing power from the simple, awful facts. Much of Frozen is told through monologues, and for once the convention feels right. But it requires truly great acting, especially by Nancy and Ralph (on Broadway, Swoosie Kurtz and Brian O'Byrne were magnificent). At InterAct, Jeb Kreager is every bit as good as O'Byrne, at once terrifying and pitiable. Mary Martello is fine, but misses the bottomless depths of Nancy's sorrow.

In any case, the play's quality drops considerably in Act 2, where things turn melodramatic, and Lavery's tone takes on the pop psychology-of-catharsis tenor of schlock like The Lovely Bones. We soon realize that Agnetha is a poorly drawn, annoying character (Catharine K. Slusar does what she can with her, but can't overcome the clichés), and Lavery overworks her metaphors of freezing and ice in various improbable ways.

Director Whit MacLaughlin's production hardly ever wavers (at least until the unstage-able finale) — it's an extremely masterful piece of craftsmanship that incorporates beautiful design (Matt Saunders' scenery and video, and Jorge Cousineau's lighting, sound and video) and finds nuances even where Lavery's script is flatfooted. For MacLaughlin, Kreager and the best moments of Frozen, this is a fulfilling evening — though the grim subject matter means it's not for the faint of heart.

(d_fox@citypaper.net)

Frozen Through May 4, Second Stage at the Adrienne, 2030 Sansom St., 215-568-8079, interacttheatre.org

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