By: Janet Preus
Frozen by Bryony Lavery
Frozen - publicity photo by Petronella J. Ytsma,
Directed by James Cada
Park Square Theatre in downtown St. Paul bills itself as the place for “entertainment that matters”, and delivers on that statement with the Tony-nominated play, “Frozen”, which opened Friday. Don’t stay away from this show because of the subject matter – a pedophile serial killer. See it because you will be reassured that life is bigger, broader, deeper, and stronger than any evil or defect that humanity can manifest.
Just three speaking roles cover many relationships. This keeps the story focused where it belongs; although I think two more characters would have been an even better choice. The play begins with a series of monologues, but just when I began to notice how long their monologues ran, and I was ready for some interaction, we were treated to our first dialogue: between the killer and the expert studying him.
The expert, a psychologist played by Linda Kelsey, has her own demons to confront, which (intriguingly) serve as a foil to the darker questions of the killer’s life, and also demonstrates her premise: “the difference between a crime of evil and a crime of illness is the difference between a sin and a symptom.” Ironically, it is she who must ultimately confess her sin.
Kelsey brings the right blend of steel and vulnerability to the role. Her forays into the killer’s psyche – expert though she is – carry the air of an innocent who knows quite a bit, but could not possibly know enough. She must maintain her intellectualized version of things in the face of real life interactions, and her own conscience.
Kelsey’s rendering had a whiff of the quirky sitcom character to it, but given the subject matter, this approach probably provided the proper enzymes to make the whole story more digestible.
Karen Landry’s portrayal of Nancy, the murdered child’s mother, maintained an excruciatingly careful balance between life’s-almost-normal, and I-will-not-survive-this. No hysteria or careening out of control, her focused calm was almost unnerving, pulling us into her day-to-day walk with an impossible pain, struggling first to know what happened to her little girl, 20 years earlier; and later, to process the facts of the events to a peaceful conclusion. Landry accomplished this with compassion and grace.
Terry Hempleman’s performance as the pedophile, Ralph, is so believable that one needs the reassurance that yes, we are in a theatre surrounded by many people. We know we are in no real, physical danger; nevertheless, we cannot escape the fact that there are very sick people, like Ralph, among us.
Of course we prefer to denounce the Ralph’s of this world as evil monsters, but we also long for the explanation for such unspeakable cruelty that this play provides. Hempleman showed us a real person, living in a bizarre world of his own creation, who we could understand. Still, understanding brings us a little too close to condoning. Somehow it is more comfortable to just say “he’s crazy”, and we’re not. That way we don’t inhabit quite the same human space.
The space created on the stage consisted of plain black levels, and layers of opaque panels that suggested the frozen terrain of the title. (Without reading the playwright’s own notes, however, I’m not sure I would understand the title at all.) The set provided the visual separation to support the relationships, though not in a particularly inventive way. The lighting, which I thought was unremarkable, could have better utilized the opacity of the set, and played up the nuances underpinning each scene. Lighting just didn’t provide much support.
I would have liked more to look at, too. It is the small, physical details of life that reveal so much. We weren’t given much to go on. (I get the feeling that the playwright was micro-managing here.) If the goal was to not distract from the words and their psychological content, this was accomplished, but I like more information.
If you were to choose a subject that could guarantee revulsion, this could surely top the list. However, it was not two hours of squirming uncomfortably; rather, the playwright carefully guided us through a discovery process that reconciles the character’s stories in an oddly satisfying way. We do leave with better understanding and a heart with more room in it.
Frozen runs through March 30. Call 651-291-7005 for tickets.
Location Info:
Park Square Theatre
Artist Info: Park Square Theatre
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