Review: VENUS IN FUR Heats Up the Stage at Live Theatre Workshop

I recently came across a friend's social media post lamenting the decline of his local theater scene on the east coast. Though I felt the urge to respond by crowing about the thriving scene in my area, I decided to take the high road.

With all the talk of dry heat and rodeos, Tucson boasts a vibrant theater district that rivals those in big cities. Last weekend, a particular production caught my attention: David Ives's VENUS IN FUR, currently heating the stage at Live Theatre Workshop.

It's certainly not the city's first encounter with the play. But LTW reaffirms its standing as an exceptional producer of two-handers. Their VENUS rendition is an opportunity to showcase elite talent and solidify Ives's placement within LTW's provocative season. 

Subversive and riveting, David Ives's clever adaptation of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's novella titillates and shocks, delving into mythology while blurring the line between the divine and the pedestrian.

In channeling Sacher-Masoch, Ives's stab at foreplay is piquant and dangerous. Should the playwright continue to craft erotic content, he could secure a place among the genre-defining authors alongside Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin.

Pardon the hyperbole. I prefer the idea that with VENUS IN FUR, Ives sets out to flex his playwriting muscles, underscoring his remarkable range and maturity. Sans VENUS, the playwright's imprint as a pundit of the short comedy is all but assured. (ALL IN THE TIMING remains one of the most innovative collections in the contemporary one-act canon.)

The seamless blending of realities in VENUS IN FUR underscores the essential need for actors with undeniable chemistry and a director with a firm grasp of the material. LTW is wise to put such a team together.

Taigé Lauren, in the role of Vanda Jordan, enters the room as a brash and foul-mouthed actress desperate for an audition. She captivates with unbridled persistence and exhibits effortless transitions into Venus. Ms. Lauren embodies a goddess's refinement and a femme fatale's sultry menace. 

But how does Vanda Jordan, presumably unfamiliar with the entire script, submit a stellar audition off-book? What do we make of her abrupt transition into a woman of insight? Who is she, indeed? 

Before long, the interplay between fantasy and reality triggers a poetic impulse, indulging our whims and unveiling Vanda as the anthropomorphic deity of love and desire. (Hint: Be careful what you wish for, and don't mess with a goddess.)

Thomas Novacheck (Aaron Cammack) is a New York City playwright striving to direct his play based on Sacher-Masoch's book, Venus in Furs. Frustrated by the inadequate talent of the actresses from the day's auditions, he is resigned to calling it a day when the actress Vanda (Wanda) saunters in unannounced (though we have ample warning from the repeated sound of thunder).

Aaron Cammack is an obdurate Novacheck, driven to perfection. He's unable to persuade the actress to leave the room, so he relents and accommodates her with hopes of getting her out the door. His obsession with the play's characters borders on personal identification, so he quickly acclimates to Severin von Kushemski, Vanda's counterpart, matching her emotional intensity. 

Mr. Cammack is a fine choice for both Novacheck and Kushemski. His stern professional demeanor belies a tumultuous fixation on being sexually dominated by a woman -- very much on par with Sacher-Mosach's male protagonist. The conceit of staging a play within a play is anything but novel, but crafting it in Ives's wicked flair is next-level territory.

Having seen Samantha Cormier's work as an all-around performer and set designer, I'm continually amazed by the scope of her prowess as a director. Tucson's stage darling not only knows the play as a one-time Vanda Jordan (Nextstage Theatre Southwest); at the helm, she shapes the play with a dynamic texture congruent with Ives's depth of perception -- concurrently poetic, personal, and theatrical. (The utility of house seats as an extension of the actors' space is a nice added touch.)

Production values are noteworthy: Taryn Wintersteen's set (what looks to be a typical theater workspace) is a meticulous blend of realism and reverie, skillfully amplified by Richard Gremel's polished lighting transitions. 

Don't tarry - book your tickets and see LTW's first-rate production. 

Photo credit: Ryan Fagan

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