ItÕs the end of an audition day
for an off-off-Broadway playÑbut one of some significant expectation, as
its playwright, Thomas (Hugh Dancey)
has had a modest level of previous success that suggests promise and elicits
attention. Certainly, at least, when the actress Wanda (Nina Arianda) arrives late due to a subway slowdown and
bedraggled due to the rain, her disappointment at being turned away is not
merely palpable, itÕs profound enough to coerce Thomas into giving her a
Òcourtesy read.Ó The play in question is his new, two-actor adaptation of Venus
in Furs, an 1870 novella by Austrian writer Leopold von
Sacher-Masoch, in which a man is so
infatuated by a woman that he begs to be treated as her slave; and the woman,
though at first repelled, begins to appreciate the power this gives her,
socially and sexually. The novel was so scandalous in its time, that the term masochism,
to describe the willful desire to be punished (especially in a
sexual context) was derived from the authorÕs name. The womanÕs role requires
an actress able to deliver power, intelligence, subtlety, sensuality and
mercurial mood-shiftsÑnot to mention simple animal charismaÑand the
scatterbrain who has entered the rehearsal studio seems hardly the type.
Until
she begins to read.
And
awakens in Thomas himself a growing fascination, more so as she coaxes him not
only to read with her, but to read with conviction. She clearly knows the play
better than she ever let onÉhow did she get an entire script, not merely the
audition sides?Éwhy does she present herself as a jabbering ditz when in the
middle of reading her lines aloud, she can suddenly drop an analytical aside so
perceptive as to throw into relief things that Thomas himself hadnÕt realized?
But the question of who she may be is never one he can spend much time
contemplating because somehow this audition has become a reading of the entire
play, the sparring of the actress and author counterpointed with that of the
dominatrix and her victimÉ
ThatÕs
pretty much the deal with Venus in Fur (the title of the playÑthe real play, the one weÕre
watchingÑtakes away the plural), the
neat, 90 minute two-hander by David Ives.
For the record, I cottoned to the playÕs conclusion somewhere in the middle (my
penchant for spotting a John Collier or Charles Beaumont-type irony coming, I
guess), but neither my very clever companion of the evening nor anyone else I
know has, nor have I hinted at the telling clue in this review. What most
important is that the realization spoiled nothing for me. In Venus in Fur, the
ride is as riveting as the answer, and as directed by Walter Bobbie, itÕs a funny, sad, sensuous bullet-train of a
journey.
The current production is a moderate physical reconception (for a
proscenium stage) of the one that opened at the Classic Stage Company
off-Broadway (on a thrust stage) for an extended run two sasons ago,
and turned Nina Arianda into a star. At the time, she was a fresh,
young actress right out of NYU, evincing a comic sensibility, worldliness and versatility well
beyond her yearsÑand her then-partner, Wes Bentley, though far better than
adequate, was nonetheless not an equal match. To some degree, this had to do
with the role itself; Miss Arianda simply has the better part. To read
screenwriter William Goldman recounting the filming of Stephen KingÕs Misery,
thatÕs why the creative team, including
director Rob Reiner, had such a hellish time casting the victim-novelist: because
whoever played the crazy woman who kidnaps him would have the virtuoso role and
walk away with the movie, as indeed Kathy Bates did; but still, she had James
Caan as a foil. Similarly, this time, the Venus in Fur creative team has improved things somewhat with Hugh Dancey now
assaying the playwright. He doesn't match her of course, for the same
reason that Caan couldn't match Bates. But at least, like Caan, he
holds his own. What he's there forÑreally there for, no matter what anyone saysÑis ballast: a certain amount of initially self-centered gravitas, so that even though he can't possibly match the game, she can't finesse him off the playing field either.
Looked
at from a certain perspective, there are probably worse fates for an
actor than having to submit to Nina Arianda eight times a weekÉ
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