There’s plenty of back story in David Ives’ “Venus in Fur” at Studio Theatre. The play refers to Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s famous 1870 erotic novella that explored sexual desire.
But Ives gives Sacher-Masoch (as in “masochism”) a modern twist, turning his writing into a play-within-a-play, where the 19th century is the text and the 21st century is the frame.
As playwright and director, Thomas (Christian Conn) is desperately looking for an actress to play the lead female role in his adaptation of Sacher-Masoch’s novella. All the actresses he sees are wrong. They aren’t mature enough to handle the role.
| Onstage |
| ‘Venus in Fur’ |
| Where: The Studio Theatre, 1501 14th St. NW |
| When: 8 p.m. Wednesdays through Saturdays; 7 p.m. Sundays; 8 p.m. June 7, 14, 21, 28; 2 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays. Through July 3 |
| Info: $44 to $65, 202-332-3300, studiotheatre.org |
Then suddenly after he has ended auditions, a scatterbrained actress named Vanda (Erica Sullivan) storms in off the rainy New York streets, wearing a black corset, garter belt and stockings under her raincoat. She begs to be heard, insists on putting on the demure white, period dress she has brought with her. Against his better judgment, Thomas lets Vanda try out for the role.
Vanda is all New York, her accent thick. Like the other actresses, she swears and has a laugh that grates on the ear. But the moment she begins to read the script, her persona and voice change completely and Vanda is transformed into the powerful, Venuslike creature Thomas created in his play.
Thomas’s play is an exploration of human domination and seduction. Ives’ play is a funny analysis of how usual patterns of behavior can be overturned, as Vanda becomes the director of Thomas’s show, slyly commanding him to take suggestions from her. As the borders between art and reality fade, Vanda begins to encroach on Thomas’s private life as well.
Both Sullivan and Conn are immensely skilled actors and they execute beautifully the intricate dance Ives has created for them. Director David Muse keeps Ives’ elaborate patterns of talk and gesture moving swiftly and intelligibly.
Blythe R. D. Quinlan’s no-frills set is a perfect neutral place for Ives’ verbal fireworks to take place. Jennifer Moeller’s costumes visually narrate the Sacher-Masoch story, beginning with Vanda’s black get-up and ending with her high-heeled, over-the-knee boots. Michael Lincoln’s lighting effectively creates two different atmospheres: the harsh florescent light of the audition room and the pinkish light of Peter’s play.
Only toward the end of “Venus,” where there is some rapid gender role-switching, does the script seem to grow overly long. But even in those moments, the self-discovery Peter goes through and the spontaneous heat generated by Vanda create a fascinating vortex, as reality seeps into fantasy and Vanda, having created a man who needs her love, diligently withholds it.
