A sizzling Sam Bianchini ignites the Atwater Village Theatre stage opposite the dynamic Roland Ruiz in David Ives’ Venus In Fur, as provocative and daring as it is maddeningly cryptic.

Writer-director Thomas Novachek (Roland Ruiz) has only just finished auditioning thirty-five cringe-worthy actresses for the role of Vanda von Dunayev in his stage adaptation of Leopold Sacher-Masoch’s erotic 1870 novella Venus In Furs when svelte siren Vanda Jordan (Sam Bianchini) arrives hours late for her 2:25 appointment.

With a mouth like a truck-driver and an outfit straight out of an S&M store, Vanda appears no more likely to snag the role of Venus In Fur’s elegant, sophisticated heroine than the three-dozen others before her, and it doesn’t help that that Thomas has no record of her appointment, nor does it faze Vanda to hand over a wrinkled headshot and paltry résumé.

As far as she’s concerned, she’s come all this way, so why shouldn’t he let her give it a go?

And so, against his better judgment, Thomas soon finds himself prepping Vanda for the scene, allowing her to fiddle with the lights to give the studio a more dramatic look, agreeing to let her try on “one of those phony transatlantic accents” for size, and reading the role of male lead Severin von Kushemski himself.

Then, astonishingly, the ditz we’ve been getting to know undergoes a startling transformation from bimbo to goddess as Vanda launches into the first of Vanda von Dunayev’s speeches in a polished British-adjacent accent, her eyes scarcely glancing at the script.

And this is but the first of a multitude of surprises playwright Ives has in store for us as little by little Vanda begins to exert the same power over Thomas as the fictional Vanda came to hold over lover-turned-slave Kushemski—and the line between the real Vanda and Thomas and the fictional characters they are playing becomes ever blurrier as we hurtle towards Venus In Fur’s explosive climax.

If ultimately Ives’ Best Play Tony nominee had me wondering what on earth its final seconds (and indeed a good chunk of what came before them) were about, and not particularly responsive to its excursions into S&M territory, there’s no denying the play’s thrilling theatricality, enhanced throughout by Matt Richter’s electrifying lighting design, which takes us instantly from reality to the world inhabited by 19th-century Vanda and Kushemski and back again, and by an uncredited sound design that uses rain and thunder to drama-enhancing effect.

Set, costumes, and props are likewise uncredited but they fit the bill to a budget-conscious T, the Atwater Village Theatre black box providing just the right setting for Thomas’s auditions as Vanda’s carryall gradually reveals not only the outfits and paraphernalia an auditioning actress would want to have on the ready but a few that add to the mystery that is Vanda Jordan.

Still, the very best reason to check out Venus In Fur’s latest incarnation are the performances elicited by director Evan Isaac Lipkin (who earns bonus points for some visually striking staging choices).

Bianchini delivers the kind of fire-and-ice star turn that you simply can’t take your eyes off as she transitions instantly and effortlessly from Vanda Present to Vanda Past and back again, taking charge of both the situation at hand and of the men destined to be each one’s slave.

L.A. stage favorite Ruiz once again proves himself the epitome of versatility as both Thomas and Kushemski, following his droll comedic work (as Lin Manuel Miranda no less) in the Road Theatre’s The Play You Want with two distinctly rendered men, each of whom we observe falling under Vanda’s spell to devastating effect.

Finally, given how much intimacy, kink, and BDSM there is on the Atwater Village Theatre stage, it makes perfect sense to have Carly D. Weckstein on hand as “Intimacy Director | Kink/BDSM Consultant.”

Roella Dellosa is stage manager. Lipkin doubles as producer (and I’m guessing as production designer as well).

If ultimately Venus In Fur The Play isn’t (to quote Oscar Hammerstein II) “precisely my cup of tea,” its two magnetic stars more than merit the applause with which they are rewarded at curtain calls. I dare anyone to look away.

Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave., Atwater Village.
www.VenusInFurLA.com

–Steven Stanley
May 13, 2022

Tags: Atwater Village Theatre, David Ives, Los Angeles Theater Review