Posted by clara / Friday, June 24th, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
David Ives does not keep secrets. At least, “Venus in Fur,” his adaptation of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s risqué, 1870 novella, doesn’t keep secrets. Right at the beginning the audience is given a clear look at Thomas’s view of modern women while on a phone call. To Thomas, the actresses that auditioned for his play are either young, good-looking, and dim; old, commanding, and homely; or some combination in between that does not involve being both smart and sexy. Thomas diminishes women by classifying them, and somehow we find it humorous. Yet later, Thomas chastises Vanda wanting to reduce his play into a dialogue of race, class and gender. Though we see the hypocrite, we laugh at Vanda’s response: “You should write that up and put it in the New York Times.”
Thomas, like any normal human being, has his character flaws. When Vanda enters after auditions are over, his first impression prevents him from even giving her a chance; to him, she is just another young, sexy, stupid woman. But after her lingering presence demands his attention, we see just how talented she is inside. So why, after she has proven him wrong, does he continue to fall victim to his prejudices?
Ives play takes a comedic look at the power dynamic between a director and an actor and a man and a woman. Though I’m reducing the play to two essential struggles, the tug of war between the characters unravels more than meets the eye. Ives openly states his intentions with his characters, and it’s fascinating how the audience is still shocked by the results, regardless of the warning. Perhaps it is because Thomas resembles so many people we’ve encountered, or because we may have a bit of Thomas in ourselves. There are moments when his behavior is indubitably despicable. But there are moments when you, as the audience, feel despicable for feeling joy at Vanda’s harsh manipulation. Again the answer is in the text. Thomas asks Vanda to prove that she loves him. After she wonders how, the biting truth comes out. “By doing what all of us do,” he says. “Hurt me.”
Vanda, played by Erica Sullivan, steals the show. Her quickness of tongue and movement hammers home the hilarity of her character. Just when you think the show is about to get serious, she exuberantly delivers comic relief. And the various accents she dealt out were not only perfect, but perfectly transitioned; her talent is undeniable. Christian Conn (Thomas) does well opposite Sullivan and the palpable bond between the two raises the stakes on stage. Both do an excellent job of challenging one another, and there were moments when their strong performances caused the audience to erupt in applause. Regarding play writing, Ives said, “I think what we’re supposed to do is write wonderful things for actors.” He’s written a demanding script and the performances from Sullivan and Conn go above and beyond.
Also notable was Michael Lincoln’s lighting design. He switches between fluorescents and stage lights, and when Vanda plays with mood lighting the shadows that develop add a surreal element to her character. I appreciated the storm motif which director David Muse carried out with the help of sound designer Matthew M. Nielson. It became another factor in knowing what was to become of the characters while denying it nonetheless. I also salute Jennifer Moeller’s costume design. Vanda is the picture of prostitute and poise, a hard combination to achieve without backstage changes.
The Studio Theatre has extended the run of “Venus in Fur” through July 10. For more information, visit www.studiotheatre.org.
–Clara Ritger
Tags: 1870, actor, Christian Conn, Clara Ritger, D.C., David Ives, David Muse, director, Erica Sullivan, Jennifer Moeller, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, Matthew M. Nielson, Michael Lincoln, New York Times, Northern Virginia, Northern Virginia Magazine, NoVA, Studio Theatre, The Culture Gurus, The Game Plan, The Studio Theatre, Theater, theater reviews, theatre, theatre reviews, Thomas, Vanda, Venus in Fur, Washington D.C.