The Mercy Seat

THE VIOLENT HOUR Cox and Graeff cope with terror.

The first sight upon entering Profiles’ playing space is CNN coverage of the attacks of September 11, 2001, playing on a large-screen TV, familiar yet still disturbing. In this taut and affecting Chicago premiere, LaBute’s two-character drama, set on the morning of September 12, manages to carve a stark examination of a relationship from the edifice of tragedy writ large.

The playwright creates typically unmerciful portraits: Ben, who was supposed to be at a meeting in one of the towers that morning, instead stopped at the loft of his lover and boss, Abby. During their tryst, the state of their affair came to a head—with her on her knees and him declaring he’s ready to leave his wife and kids—and then the world outside crumbled. In the dust of the tragedy, Ben sees an opportunity to “totally erase the past” by literally playing dead. While he ignores the plaintive ring of his cell, Abby struggles with the stark reality that her lover is an inconceivably selfish prick.

Jahraus’s measured direction peels back the layers of the tightly wound affair as the pair attempt to communicate through thrusts of venom and parries of sarcasm. Though her character, sketched as the archetypal ferocious fortysomething single executive, seems a bit shortchanged, Graeff acutely conveys how Abby is both repulsed and entranced by Ben. And in Cox’s agile hands, Ben’s an indelible and charismatic jerk. We know what’s coming, but Cox keeps us guessing until the play’s end.

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