Fifty Shades of Grey
reduced sadomasochism to handcuffs and spanking. Venus in Fur
—while not devoid of dog collars and riding crops—throws into question such simple ideas of control and compliance. In David Ives’ work, in a jagged but entertaining Portland Center Stage production directed by Nancy Keystone, the relationship between domination and submission is an erotic power play that revels in its ambiguous stakes. Thomas (David Barlow) is a playwright-director who has adapted Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s 1870 novella about a man who dreams of being enslaved by a woman, and as Venus in Fur
begins he’s just endured a disastrous string of auditions. But as he calls his fiancee to snivel about those 35 inept actresses, into the dingy rehearsal room blows Vanda (Ginny Myers Lee), swearing about the perverts on the subway. Vanda may have come dressed in spike heels and leather bustier (which she’ll later unzip with a very funny “Geronimo!”), but on first glance she’s not so different from the 35 previous ninnies. That quickly changes, though, as she cajoles Thomas into letting her audition. Lee, with impressive control, transitions between more than two roles: In addition to modern-day Vanda, a ditzy motor mouth, and 19th-century Vanda, a haughty aristocrat, there’s another Vanda who cites Greek mythology and dips into startling psychosexual insights. Lee flings herself into these rapidly shifting guises, and she’s hilarious to boot—in the show’s comedic highlight, Vanda improvises a scene as a German-accented Venus, whispering “I’ll be back” as if she’s Schwarzenegger. Opposite this swirling tempest, Barlow falters. As his character is alternately flattered and berated, Barlow’s default response is to widen his eyes and gape at Vanda like a startled puppy. Best, perhaps, to turn attention to Ives’ sizzling script, a fiercer whip than E.L. James could ever hope to crack.
128 NW 11th Ave.Website: pcs.org