Go! REVIEW

There are a couple of  missed opportunities in Carson Kreitzer’s “1:23,” now making its world premiere at the Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park.

First, the play runs 75 minutes. It should have been 83 minutes, not only making the running time the same as the title, but it would have given the playwright another eight minutes to explicate exactly what she wants to convey in this mashing of two true stories, one legend and a handful of fictional subplots.

As it stands, “1:23” refers to the time cited on the interview tapes from the confession of Andrea Yates, the Houston woman who drowned her five children in 2001. The other true story is that of Susan Smith, who in 1994 let her Mazda roll into a lake with her two children inside, later making national headlines by pleading to the African-American hijacker who stole her car and children to return them.

(Although it’s not mentioned in the play, Yates was found not guilty by reason of insanity while Smith was convicted and now serves a life sentence.)

Intermingled with these stories is the legend of La Malinche, the mistress of 16th century explorer Hernan Cortes who drown the children she bore him, the world’s first Mestizos, rather than allow them to go to Spain with their father.

Eva Kaminsky plays Andrea as she gives testimony to the police video camera, taken from her actual statements, interjecting (fictionally, I presume) bible verses numbered 1:23 that may or may not have anything to do with her story or the others. The delivery is dry as dust, as appropriate, but fails to dig beyond the facts of the case and delve into the psychology behind it. Likewise, Deborah Knox’s Susan tells her story to a different detective (frequent Playhouse actor Robert Elliott), but also fails to provide much in the way of enlightenment or understanding.

Is that enlightenment to be provided, then, by the legend of La Malinche? Certainly it is the most interesting and colorfully-told of the stories, using projected drawings in crayon and colored pencil to liven up the concrete and plain-walled, police-station set.

Indeed, the production is slick and evocative, but in the end, doesn’t help scratch below the surface and remains a rather distant telling of the tales.

The second missed opportunity, perhaps, is the appearance of the Carjacker, the young black man who would’ve stolen Susan Smith’s car if a young black man had indeed stolen Susan Smith’s car. The Carjacker, appearing in the manner and function of a Greek chorus, could have been more than a projection of the fear Smith used to manipulate the public and the media for nine days. He could also have been effective spokesman for the darkness that drove these two women to the most horrible crimes imaginable, the murder of one’s own children.