Venus in Fur, Ages of the Moon

Venus in Fur
 
There are many interesting ideas in David Ives’ new psychosexual drama, Venus in Fur, but I’m not sure they’re executed well enough to recommend it—despite the presence of film heartthrob Wes Bentley. Based on Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s seminal 1870 novella about a man so infatuated with a woman that he asks her to treat him as her slave and then encourages her to treat him in increasingly degrading ways, Venus in Fur was notable for its eroticism and its descriptions of sexual desires to have pain inflicted on oneself. (If you’ve ever wondered where the term “masochism” comes from, Sacher-Masoch’s name is your answer.)
 
The novella uses a framing device wherein a man dreams of speaking to Venus about love while she wears furs. Ives spins this into a contemporary setting in which a director is auditioning an actress for a stage adaptation of Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Fur, and has the tables turned on him when the actress begins to dominate him in ways he secretly desires. But is the actress a figment of the director’s imagination? Is she really Venus? Who’s exerting power over whom? And why do we care?
 
Given the performances of Wes Bentley (who, as it turns out, shouldn’t have left Juilliard before he learning how to act) and the talented but misdirected Nina Arianda, the problem is it doesn’t much matter. Chalk it up to our inherently puritanical nature or director Walter Bobbie’s flaccid staging, but Venus in Fur is more wince inducing than provocative. It has its moments, to be sure, mostly thanks to Arianda’s flair for comedy. But that often-comedic tone is one of Venus in Fur’s problems, as is Ives’ existential ending, which many in the audience will find more confusing than sexy.
 
Speaking of existential, Sam Shepard’s Ages of the Moon has opened at The Atlantic and it’s a bit of a letdown. Starring Stephen Rea (The Crying Game) and Seán McGinley, who also starred in the play’s premiere at the Abbey Theater in Dublin, Ages of the Moon can best be described as two old guys sitting on a porch out in the middle of nowhere (probably in Kentucky), drinking bourbon and complaining about their dysfunctional lives. There are mild flashes of the sharp-edged dialogue Shepard pioneered in plays like Buried Child and True West but, in general, Ages feels endless even though it’s only 90 intermission-less minutes. There’s one exciting moment when Rea literally shoots down a ceiling fan with a double-barreled shotgun, but sadly that’s not enough to recommend it.    N


Venus in Fur plays through February 21 at Classic Stage Co. (136 E 13th St, 212-352-3101). Ages of the Moon plays through March 7 at Atlantic (336 W 20th St, 212-279-4200).