Badih Abou Chakra and Rita Hayek in "Venus" by Jacques Maroun. (Credit: Karim Ghorayeb)
Rarely does a play leave the audience so shaken, filled with psychological and philosophical questions about domination, identity, desire and gender roles. Venus, directed by Jacques Maroun, is one of those rare productions that viewers want to revisit, as it challenges and delights in equal measure.
It’s just as rare to see an adaptation so finely deconstructed and intelligently “Lebanized” — transposed with fidelity, wit and lightness in the best sense of the word. The original 2010 text by David Ives, inspired by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s 1870 novel, was translated and adapted by Lina Khoury and Gabriel Yammine. On stage, this melodramatic comedy — at once simple and profound — builds steadily, taking the audience through a fluid sequence of events and layered enigmas that remain accessible while deeply stirring.
The play feels flexible, familiar and organic. It speaks to the intimate tensions of male-female relationships — between domination and submission, the search for equality, superiority and surrender — while confronting themes rarely broached on stage or in the media. Its success hinges on the harmony among three core elements: the text, the direction and the performance, including voice work.
Actors Badih Abou Chakra and Rita Hayek demonstrate rare chemistry. They excel not only in transitioning between eras and personas through three demanding scripts but also in understanding their characters’ inner complexity and bringing them fully to life.
Abou Chakra plays a playwright and director frustrated by the lack of a nuanced actress to portray his lead. Then enters Hayek’s character, Vanda — an alluring, seemingly naive young woman who gradually reveals herself as a seasoned performer, femme fatale, dominatrix and avenger. She embodies a character who holds the keys to power, love and pleasure, ensnaring the director in a web of desire, echoing Masoch’s original tale of Vanda and Severin.
From there, the power play between fiction and reality begins — between the present and Masoch’s era, between the thrills of domination and the mysteries of submission. The spectator is invited into the unraveling of a layered narrative, like colored ribbons surrounding a box within a box. Characters emerge within other characters. Stories unfold inside other stories. Maroun stretches these metaphorical ribbons between the leads, flexing them according to the emotional density and intensity of their dialogue.
Many can play a role. Few can inhabit one so thoroughly — down to the gaze, voice, body language and even breath. It’s as if the characters possess them. The cast and crew take on a daring, high-stakes script and transform it into a vibrant, playful, emotionally charged theatrical game, shifting across eras and psychological states, navigating contradiction and raw emotion.
It’s a sensual and sophisticated game, never vulgar. The narrative builds like a slow-burning romance. From the start, the audience is hooked — attuned to movement, breath, body, expression and an aesthetic that is visual, psychological and carefully curated.
As the play unfolds, spectators discover hidden identities, question personal and collective desires, and delve into the philosophy of pleasure, power, emancipation and pain. Venus tackles the stereotypes that entangle male-female relationships — hovering between liberation and humiliation.
A bold choice
Much has been said about the show’s visual audacity. But its true transgression lies in its incursion into a rarely explored zone of Lebanese and Arabic theater. The real boldness is in choosing such a dense, philosophical and psychological text, selecting the right actors, directing them precisely, and drawing out its dramatic truth.
Maroun told L’Orient-Le Jour, “Masoch’s novel speaks of masochism, but Ives’ play is above all a comedy. It’s a play within a play. And since I love games, the text gave me fertile ground to explore heavy themes in a lighthearted frame.”
He added: “The text moved me from the first read — I saw it visually. I can’t commit a year to something unless I’m emotionally attached to it. And I had Badih and Rita, the two pillars of this project. I was surprised to learn Rita also knew the play. We had decided to stage it 10 years ago, after Kaab Aali (High Heels), which was both bold and successful in 2013.”
Hayek said, “The show’s audacity lies in how it leaves audiences with questions — about masochism, power, feminism, masculinity, class. It opens up debate. Some people come to see it again and again. The real boldness is daring to enter spaces we usually avoid. It stirs things up — as it stirred us. After more than 120 shows, we still discover new layers.”
Abou Chakra agreed: “The real boldness is provoking debate. Breaking taboos is commonplace. The artist’s role is to touch the intimate, the sensitive, the profound. Theater should reflect reality — not sugarcoat it. A play that soothes the audience loses its edge.”
He said Venus created a cultural stir, partly due to its provocative poster. “But those who saw it understood its richness. Our role is to guide the audience, dispel misunderstandings, and resist theater’s commercialization. We’re not trendy or easy. We’re artists taking risks.”
Strong women are central to Maroun’s work. “They draw me in — probably because of who I am. And I had Rita, whose strength matched the role. Without her, this play might never have happened. Not every text I read deserves to be staged now.”
On directing, he added: “Rita and Badih are professionals. The text was already written as a comedy — I didn’t need to force it. What mattered to me was authenticity. Even in a theatrical show, truth is key. The audience must believe it.”
How does he achieve that? “Sometimes silence is best. Let the actor breathe. Give them the freedom to explore. Professionalism also means knowing when to step in and when to let go. I hate confining actors with rigid direction.”
For Maroun, the mission is to bring a text to life through vision, choice and a specific Lebanese lens. “I’m not bold for staging a play I love. But in our society, this kind of theater remains marginal. I’m glad it works. The audience decides — and they’ve loved Venus. For 10 years, they’ve asked us to bring it back.”
Ten years of change
What’s changed since then?
“Everything,” said Hayek. “Our lives. I’ve had experiences — relationships, marriage, motherhood. My reading of the text has changed. What I did 10 years ago now feels naive.”
Abou Chakra agreed: “People evolve every day, so in 10 years? Our approach has changed. Our technique, too. I now perform some scenes completely differently.”
He concluded: “I’m an actor. I do what feels true, even if the topic is sensitive. Virility isn’t control or force — it’s freedom from historical chains. The play speaks of stripped-down love. Equal love. A love without hierarchy.”
He also criticized how Western capitalism has co-opted masochism, stripping it of its essence: “Masoch wrote about a search for absolute love. Now it’s just cuffs and gadgets.”
Venus runs through May 11 at Monnot Theater.
