Curtain Call

CORRECTION: Due to an editing error, the second paragraph of "Laughing at death" was omitted in an earlier version of this story. The missing paragraph has been added below.

Domination drama

Sexual tension drives edgy ‘Venus in Fur’

It feels like a mistake: no set, no stage lights, no actors and the audience sits on the stage. A man walks into the theater on his cell phone! But don’t be fooled. This is David Ives’ steamy, self-reflexive examination of power and gender, “Venus in Fur.” It’s also Peppermint Creek Theatre Co.’s final production of the season and a stellar must-see mind-trip.

In “Venus and Fur,” playwright Thomas (Joseph Mull) desperately seeks an actress to play Vanda, the lead role in his adaptation of the classic sadomasochistic story, “Venus in Furs.” Arriving to audition is Vanda (Mary Dilworth), an equally desperate actress with the right name but obviously wrong for the role. Vanda the character is poised and refined. Vanda the actress is crude and clumsy. But before Thomas can turn her away, Vanda’s reading reveals a strangely adept knowledge of the subject, transforming the audition into an erotic game that blurs the lines of reality.

One of the best elements of this production is its hidden complexity. Everything from the bare stage to the seeming lack of stage lights to the compact cast suggests simplicity. Director Rob Roznowski’s ingenious decision to place the audience on the stage enhances the intimacy of the show, morphing the stage into a black box space.

And so all audience attention focuses on the two actors, whose combustible chemistry drives the show. Dilworth is particularly mesmerizing to watch. She’s pure energy — like a child without fear or doubt, gleefully lacking a filter that might restrain embarrassing speech or excessive profanity. When she reads from the script, Dilworth’s body and voice mutate into a refined goddess. Dilworth’s seamless transitions between her two characters are a delightful juggling act of control and timing.

Dilworth beautifully counters Mull’s stodgy, patronizing Thomas. Thomas is the epitome of a sexist, self-righteous know-it-all. Mull miraculously makes this monster feel human and all too familiar.

While the dialogue flits around with the randomness of a caffeinated brain, Roznowski manages to keep the show focused on the power dynamics between the two characters. The play tackles gender roles and misogyny, but it’s also a celebration of theater — a behind the scenes exploration of the rehearsal process. It’s a process that can be fun or, in the case of this play, fraught with sexual tension.

—Paul Wozniak

“Venus in Fur”

Peppermint Creek Theatre Co. Through May 17 8 p.m. Thursday- Saturday; 2 p.m. Sunday $15/$10 student & seniors 65 Miller Performing Arts Center 6025 Curry Lane, Lansing (517) 372-0945, peppermintcreek.org

 Royal presentation

‘Camelot’ delivers a lofty message

“There’s a legal limit to the snow here.”

This single line from Lerner and Loewe’s musical “Camelot,” staged by Starlight Dinner Theatre, evoked a murmur of “if only” laughs from mid-Michigan residents, who, even on a balmy 75 degree Friday night, had one eye open for a possible late Spring snowstorm.

There are a handful of truly enchanting musical numbers in this elongated adaptation of the tales of King Arthur and his court. Frederick Loewe’s melodies soar, and when lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner are added those moments can bring tears to the eyes of even the most cynical of people.

We are only eight minutes into the story when Martin Underhill, as King Arthur, breaks into the iconic title song, singing, “There is simply not a more congenial spot for happily-everafter-ing than here in Camelot.”

Underhill brings a giant-sized, gentle innocence to the role of this peacemaking king. His is a surprisingly introspective, nuanced performance, suggestive of time spent thinking through the complexities of a visionary king nave enough to believe that words might replace weaponry as a means to resolve conflicts between people and kingdoms.

Alas, Arthur is undone, his kingdom unraveled. His princess bride, the beguiling Guenevere, has succumbed to the seductive sincerities of the pure-of-heart but weak-of-flesh Sir Lancelot.

Paula Sheynerman is a feisty Guinevere, a strong characterization with the added bonus of a powerful singing voice. She captures the internal conflicts of a captivated woman who loves two men too much.

Joseph Baumann’s Lancelot is a curious mix — a shining knight who strives for moral excellence, yet is blind to passionate human failings that eventually doom him.

There are several strong supporting characters in this play. Ed Baker shines as Arthur’s confidante, Pellinore, as does Charlotte Ruppert as the malevolent Morgan Le Fey and Josh Martin as Arthur’s spastically evil bastard son, Mordred.

Kudos to trumpeter Perice Pope whose triple-tongued staccato flourishes embellished Arthur’s solos.

As good as many of these individual performances are, the overall production struggles with the limitations of a shallow stage, one that stretches out an ensemble of singers and dancers as a single long line of talking heads, eliminating opportunities for movement, grace and elegance. The depth of the play deserves the dimensionality of a deeper stage.

During an artfully melodic performance of the song “The Lusty Month of May,” (which lacked both luster and lust), the cramped lack of space for dancing tempted me to cry aloud, “Mayday, Mayday — musical in distress!”

“Camelot” is a powerful play with an ambitious agenda, a story that needs to be told again and again. We can use our words to resolve conflicts; we need not approach every dispute with the droning overkill of swordplay.

—Tom Helma

“Camelot”

Starlight Dinner Theatre Through May 17 6:30 p.m. dinner, 7;30 p.m. show Friday and Saturday; desserts 1:30 p.m., 2:30 p.m. show Sunday $39/$36 seniors Waverly East Intermediate School, 3131 W. Michigan Ave., Lansing (517) 243-6040, starlightdinnertheatre.com

 Laughing at death

Darkly funny ‘The Lyons’ finds comedy in cancer

Many plays center around a dysfunctional family, and with good reason: Almost every human being can relate. Even the most stable families have a batty aunt Eliza or creepy cousin Chester. In Riverwalk Theatre’s final black box production of the season, the Lyons family is every family, with just enough quirks to make them believable.

Patriarch Ben Lyons (Michael Schacherbauer) is in the final stages of cancer, so mother Rita (Carol Ferris) has summoned their adult children to the hospital to say goodbye. Lisa (Erin Hoffman) is a frantic, sloppy hot mess. The single mom struggles with sobriety, self-image and destructive relationships. Curtis (Steve Ledyard) seems to be the more stable sibling, despite being resented and rejected by his father for being homosexual. 

Rita is insufferably chatty and unflappably upbeat in the face of Ben’s death, and Ferris nails the role perfectly. At first she seems shallow and irritating, but by the end the audience is cheering for her latein-life liberation. The chemistry between Ferris and Schacherbauer is delightful, as they authentically portray a couple who are resigned, but not happy, to be together until death does them part.

Although Curtis is out of the closet, it turns out that skeletons have taken up residence in it. Act two opens with Curtis looking at an apartment in Manhattan. His interaction with real estate agent Brian (Mark Polzin) is at first filled with the typical chitchat one expects in such situations. The conversation grows increasingly personal, and tensions rise as Curtis inches toward a surprising big reveal.

Ledyard’s Curtis is calm and even, barely breaking a sweat as he verbally assaults Brian. This is quite possibly Ledyard’s finest role, although the subsequent physical scuffle is stagey and stiff. Fortunately, this is the only significant weakness in an otherwise solid production, directed with obvious passion and compassion by Susan Chmurynsky.

Nicky Silver’s script is sharp and snappy, giving the four family members an opportunity to chew scenery and show off their chops. The marquee above the door calls this production a dark comedy, while the program describes it as a ferocious comedy. Both are apt descriptions.

While all dysfunctional family comedies and dramas rely on the revelation of big secrets to advance the plot, the twists in this script are unpredictable and sometimes shocking, but ultimately satisfying.

Riverwalk fills the seats of the main auditorium with its musical productions, but should be lauded for some of the edgy fare staged in its black box. The space is a perfect setting to experience the intimacy and intensity of impending death, yet still be able to giggle as a man who has nothing left to lose embraces the power of the word “motherfucker.”

—Mary Cusack

“The Lyons”

Riverwalk Theatre Through May 17 8 p.m. Friday-Saturday; 2 p.m. Sunday $12/$10 students, seniors and military 228 Museum Dr. Lansing (517) 482-5700, riverwalktheatre.com