Built to kill: Peter (Jeb Kreager) terrifies Agnetha (Catharine Slusar).

Stage

A chilling murder numbs characters in Frozen.

by J. Cooper Robb

The InterAct Theatre Company continues its 20-year tradition of presenting challenging fare with director Whit MacLaughlin’s provocative staging of Bryony Lavery’s Tony Award-nominated drama Frozen.

An often disturbing play about forgiveness, grief and the nature of evil, Frozen revolves around three disparate characters connected by a horrific crime. Each emotionally damaged character suffers from a profound sense of isolation. To emphasize their remoteness from society, Lavery introduces us to the trio in a series of monologues.

Self-described “psychiatric explorer” Agnetha (Catharine Slusar) is examining serial killers to prove her theory that they’re neurologically damaged from years of mental and physical abuse and therefore not to blame for their crimes. The current subject of Agnetha’s study is Ralph (Jeb Kreager), a violent predator who confesses to the murders of seven young children. Included among Ralph’s victims is the young daughter of Nancy (Mary Martello), a mother desperately trying to endure an unbearable loss.

But the three characters are connected by more than the murder of a young girl. Consumed by fear, they’re all frozen in place.

Despite her best efforts, Nancy is unable to move past her grief. Ralph (who suffers from an appalling lack of empathy) remains a victim of the abuses he suffered in childhood. For the remorseful Agnetha, an unfortunate association with a past colleague has left her panic-stricken.

Although all three capture our attention, the most compelling is the distraught Nancy. Initially in denial that her missing daughter is dead and then consumed by a desire for revenge, Nancy is hardened and distant.

Agnetha is equally remote, but compared to Nancy’s loss, the source of her grief seems trivial, and Slusar struggles at times to locate Agnetha’s emotional core.

Kreager is simply scary as hell. With a cold and calculating exterior masking Ralph’s inner rage, Kreager’s frighteningly unpredictable performance features long periods of eerie calm interrupted by sudden eruptions of shocking fury.

Lavery seems to want to convey all sorts of warm and fuzzy thoughts about the power of forgiveness and its ability to heal. But there’s nothing heartwarming or tender about Frozen. It’s a cold, heartless play.

We expect Nancy to eventually emerge from her grief with a new outlook on life. But if she’s able to overcome her understandable grief (and that remains questionable), her healing comes at the expense of her humanity.

Under MacLaughlin’s direction, Frozen makes for gripping theater (the final two scenes are spellbinding), but the conclusion is alarming in its lack of compassion. There’s no sense of healing in Frozen, no magic elixir for overcoming the pain of grief. We emerge from the theater chilled, not only by Ralph’s horrific crime, but also by the questions Lavery raises about the nature of evil and our ability to come to terms with it.

Frozen

Mating Squall

Local creator/choreographer/director Karen Getz should widen her fan base considerably with 1812 Productions’ remounting of her delightful 2006 Fringe hit Suburban Love Songs. Recalling the changing attitudes and free love of the 1960s, the wordless Songs is set in 1968 at a particularly groovy party attended by eight typical suburbanites. Although the show is danced rather than spoken, the cast (with the exception of Getz and the spectacular Amy Smith from Headlong Dance Theater) consists not of professional dancers but rather actors. Getz’s smartly conceived choreography challenges the performers without ever overwhelming them. The performances may not be particularly graceful or technically proficient, but they’re enormously expressive and often very funny (a sexually revealing game of Twister is hilarious). But while Songs is undeniably amusing, Getz is interested in more than just tickling our funny bone. Although 1968 saw riots in the nation’s cities following the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and sit-ins protesting the Vietnam War on college campuses, the suburbanites in Songs are seen cautiously taking their first steps into the Age of Aquarius. A magical mix of throw pillows and politics, Songs is a gleeful celebration of the end of American innocence. (J.C.R.) >> Through April 27. $15-$27. Plays and Players Theater, 1714 Delancey St. 215.592.9560. www.1812productions.org