Venus Explores Story of Human Exploitation

Venus Explores Story of Human Exploitation

After seeing Venus, a few important questions confront the viewer. How will the world remember you when you're dead? Will your achievements and personality be remembered by those still around? Or will they note the size of your forearm, the distance between your eyes, the distribution of your pubic hair, as scientists did of the so-called "Hottentot Venus" displayed in England during the 19th century?

A key word in this production of Suzan-Lori Parks' Venus, directed by senior Shannon Forney, is "maceration," the postmortem chemical separation of flesh from bone. The doctor who takes possession of Venus in the second act is just waiting for her to die, knowing that he will figure her out when she's dead. But is a play any different, as it dissects its subject with words? Venus is keenly aware of its position toward its subject, but also delivers a potent carnivalesque jolt of theater.

Briefly, the story is this: Venus, a black woman, is brought to England and is quickly placed into a freak show, where she is exhibited as a "savage." She draws a large crowd, but is eventually sold to a doctor who studies her, reports on her and sleeps with her. But he has a wife, so Venus is sent to jail and left to die. Afterwards she is dissected; recitations of the dissection's record play a large part in the play.

Venus is half of the Hall repertory theater week, and one of the rare (though increasingly common) student productions to be given the main-stage treatment. Does it deserve it? Patently so. The set, designed by Associate Professor of theater and dance Michael Grube, is amazing, and when combined with the equally impressive costume design by Associate Professor of theater and dance Chris Flaharty, Hall is transformed into a grotesque circus tent.

Director Forney also makes innovative use of the seating space, filtering the performers around and through the audience at regular intervals. The ensemble does an excellent job of filling up the space.

The opening scene starts Venus off explosively. The main set piece, a huge face resembling an evil red Shih Tzu, opens its jaw to belch forth the entire cast, who position themselves in a tableau to the strains of an accordion. They then perform a sort of verbal music - verse mixed with prose, relying heavily on repetition and rhythm, meant to introduce both the characters and the themes of the play. It's transfixing, it's theatrical and it's energetic.

Further excellent scenes proliferate. Junior Rosa Hide is assured in her role as Venus, particularly in an early scene where she is humiliatingly forced to lift her skirts. Sophomore Daryl Williams is excellent as the "Negro resurrectionist," who also serves as the narrator in the piece's framing sections - but it is his hesitant interactions with Venus that resonate, most notably when he reaches across the divide to offer her a flower. Also notable are senior Arielle Halpern as Mother Showman (especially in the emotional scene where Venus demands her freedom), junior Jeremy Carlson as Mr. Privates, and sophomore Joanna Burch-Brown and junior Erynn Sosinski in physically demanding roles as stilt-walkers.

Throughout, Forney manages to convey a mood both pensive and entertaining. The ensemble of freaks, which includes Siamese twins (junior Erin Shiba and sophomore Marlana Tom), a fat man (first-year Jonah Mitropoulos), and a fire breather (senior Kelly Smith) are used both in their set roles and to play all of the "bit" roles that come up as the play goes along, and are especially effective in semi-pantomime scenes illustrating racial and sexual attitudes towards Venus' perceived exoticism and savagery. There is occasional use of puppets, notably a giant skeleton presiding over a court scene, as well as one well-used set piece assembled by the cast.

But there is also the pensive aspect. Venus owes a huge debt to Bertoldt Brecht, and incorporates many of his characteristic techniques: use of music and songs, audience interaction and the exoticization of common things (the so-called "alienation effect"). One of the characters is even named Mother Showman, sharing not a few characteristics with Brecht's Mother Courage.

But this comparison raises questions. Why make unfamiliar a time period already alien to us, exaggerating its already strange characteristics? Why abandon Brecht's dialectical techniques, opting instead for a subject whose conclusion seems automatically reached (racism is bad)? Why participate in exoticism in a play seeming to protest that very crime? The answers suggested are that the play is not reflecting the events themselves, but inviting us to critique our modern notions of race and gender, and the way black women are represented in entertainment. The outcome is not predetermined; we feel sentimental towards Venus at first, but gradually she seems to desire her own exploitation, declaring, "I came home black; let me go home white." Thus Venus (in a very Brechtian move) illustrates how capitalism induces self-betrayal and the shift from exploitation through labor to exploitation through culture.

As for the play's own exoticism, it does not protest this, but instead answers it head on. The narrator becomes a stand-in for the author, and his tentative interactions with Venus culminate in his eventual betrayal, as he accepts a deal to bring her dead body to the doctor. There is avowed guilt there, but whether or not this allows forgiveness is another matter.

Venus makes some strong points about musical theatre (check out the two-act structure), the prevalence of sexist ideals of abolition (black women were supposed to be "liberated" by becoming subservient to men in a "natural" family setting), academic detachment and the betrayal of science and love, in the repeated refrain "my love for you, my love, is artificial."

Its only drawback is its length. Venus clocks in at two and a half hours. Since scenes are counted down from 31, the audience member might be tempted to count ahead.

Aside from this, it is everything you could ask of theater - spectacle, complex commentary and emotional wallop. Bring a box of chocolates and your medical textbooks, but feel free to get up during intermission.

Venus shows Wednesday and Friday at 8 p.m. in Hall Auditorium.