Phantom Killer

The theatrical thriller, already an ailing genre, receives a body blow from "Phantom Killer," the disappointing production currently on the boards of the Dorothy Strelsin Theatre at the Abingdon Theatre Arts Complex. It's unfortunate, because all the elements for a shiverfest are in place: a young couple parked on a deserted country road, a serial killer terrorizing the vicinity, and a menacing lawman of questionable motives. But playwright Jan Buttram, who is also artistic director of the Abingdon Theatre Company, fails to weave these threads into a believable, goose bump–raising drama. Instead she elicits winces with hokey dialogue, contrived plotting, and embarrassing actions.

Based on an actual case, the play depicts one momentous night for three people in East Texas in 1946. To escape sweltering heat, newlyweds Jessie and Luke drive out into the country, even though a murderer nicknamed the Phantom Killer is loose. Jessie excitedly plans their new life in New Orleans, while she and Luke smooch and drink whiskey. But their romantic mood is shattered with the sudden arrival of Randy, a Texas Ranger hot on the trail of the aforementioned maniac. By the end of the play's 80 minutes, all three have proved not to be what they seem, and the audience has witnessed murder, rape, and betrayal. Each time Jessie pleaded to be taken home, I wanted to say, "Come on, sister, I'll drop you off."

As Jessie, Wrenn Schmidt gamely attempts to flesh out a two-dimensional character, and Denny Bess struggles to inject humanity into the one-dimensional Randy, but neither gets much help from the playwright, who forces them to engage in inane dialogue as Randy pounds Jessie against Luke's car. Jon McCormick's Luke is frequently unintelligible due to swallowed words and a wavering accent. Director Jules Ochoa keeps his trio whirling around the Strelsin's postage stamp–sized stage—almost to the point of inducing motion sickness—perhaps to prevent us from concentrating on the absurdity of the proceedings.

Yet even in the midst of a total misfire, designer David B. Ogle flourishes. His set, a slice of heat-withered thicket, complete with the back end of a 1940 Dodge coupe, lends desperately needed reality and atmosphere.

Those of us who love thrillers will regret the passing of this venerable genre. But if plays like "Phantom Killer" are what we get, I for one will gladly pull the plug.


Presented by the Abingdon Theatre Company at the Dorothy Strelsin Theatre, Abingdon Theatre Arts Complex, 312 W. 36th St., NYC. Jan. 22–Feb. 14. Wed. and Thu., 7 p.m.; Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 2 and 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m. (212) 868-2055 or www.abingdontheatre.org. Casting by William Schill.