About two-thirds of the way through David Ives' Venus in Fur, Tom asks the actress who has come to audition for his play, "Who are you?" It's a question we might be asking her ourselves, for the character is an Olympic-class shape-shifter.
Is she the loud, potty-mouthed ditz who literally blows into the rehearsal room full of excuses for her lateness, or is she the dulcet-toned German aristocrat at the center of Tom's play? Is she the über-feminist complaining that women are degraded and blamed for whatever goes wrong? Or is she an "operative" (her word) sent by Tom's fiancée to test his fidelity?
Ives takes a tried-and-true dramatic conceit, the play within a play, infuses it with sobriety laced with levity and comes up with a piece that will take your breath away with its audacity and wit. That Ives never resolves this conundrum attests to the genius of his play, now being given an dazzling production at the George Street Playhouse through May 18.
Thomas, a young playwright who is making his directorial debut with his newest play, Venus in Fur, an adaptation of a scandalous Victorian novella, Venus in Furs, finds himself at the end of a long, fruitless day auditioning actresses for the lead female role of Vanda. With a crash of thunder, Vanda Jordan enters and, despite her late arrival, skimpy resumé and her name not being on the list (among other deficiencies), she slyly persuades him to let her read for the part. Soon, the lines between reality and fantasy waver and blur, until they (and we) have trouble delineating which is which! In fact, as the audition progresses, the two switch roles of actor and director and even work together to "write" a new scene that would precede the opening of Thomas' play, until the balance of power between the two shifts, exactly as it does in the novella.
As in most plays about plays, Ives has slipped in many inside jokes and clever theater allusions (say, to Greek tragedy—specifically, The Bacchae), along with lots of hints about Vanda Jordan's background to help the audience solve the mystery presented by this young woman—if that is possible. (No spoilers: pay attention to what she says and does.)
Kip Fagan's magical direction winds the tension tightly as the action moves inexorably onward. And Mark Alhadeff as Thomas and Jenni Putney as Vanda enthusiastically tackle the material, without chewing up the scenery.
Reprising the role that won Nina Arianda a Tony Award, Putney's performance is nothing short of astounding. Seamlessly, she slips from one character to another, usually by assuming a different posture, accent and pronunciation, even when the chasm between the actress and Austrian aristocrat Wanda von Dunajew is wide. Changing costumes in a wink (even threatening to strip nude at one point), she remains in character—whoever she's supposed to be at the moment. Putney's Vanda Jordan is duplicitous, wily, the incarnation of righteous indignation, a dominatrix, an innocent, a con woman, a real shape shifter. She is clearly an actor to watch.
Alhadeff, who understudied Hugh Dancy in the role on Broadway, clearly knows his way around the character. For all his brief experience in the theater, his Thomas is clearly stymied by this brash blonde, pulled into her enchanted orbit, and much to his chagrin, becoming a character in his own play (and the source novel by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, who inspired the term masochism). His change from playwright to actor is charming as he assumes a posture and adopts an accent appropriate to his character, Severin von Kusiemski. And his transformation from aristocrat to slave (in his play and Ives') is credible and compelling.
Production values are as strong as the acting and direction. Richard St. Clair has provided costumes that are appropriate yet droll; Vanda's duffel bag resembles a circus clown car as she takes out a variety of costumes for the various roles the two play. Jason Simms' rehearsal hall is dingy and drab; the windows are even dirty and look out onto a brick wall complete with its own windows. Thomas Schall's fight direction and Susan Cameron's dialect coaching add to the verisimilitude.
The Greeks believed that the theater should produce a physical response in the audience, and Venus in Fur follows that tradition. As the stage lights went down, I was unable to move from my seat for a few minutes and found it difficult to breathe! My companion and I discussed the play nonstop on our ride home. For 90 minutes, you will be mesmerized, and I guarantee you will think about the play for days afterward. With clever, polished playwriting and accomplished acting, George Street Playhouse's production of Venus in Fur is one you won't want to miss.
Venus in Fur will be performed at the George Street Playhouse, 9 Livingston Avenue, New Brunswick, through May 18. For information about performance times and tickets, call the box office at 732.256.7717 or visit online at www.GSPonline.org. Please note: due to adult themes, this sexy and electrifying comedy is suitable for audiences age 17 and older.
Photos by T. Charles Erickson.