Somebody Pays: Making a film featuring Nicholas Cage (The Wicker Man) punching out droves of pagan women isn't the path to my heart, and neither is making a film that drips with pure, depraved, masculine prowess. Throw in a rape scene and it's all over. But wait, now I hear this capricious voice shouting from above: pleasure is not the point.

So, what's up with Neil LaBute? There are only so many nauseatingly apologist film reviews a girl can take. Each is so quick to brush off the psychopathy and the alarming fixation on females as vassals with a cute “That's our misanthrope!” seal of approval. But I enjoyed his plays in college and sensed there must be something more complex at work, so I put away my big red “Misogynist” stamp and looked deeper. If fiction is a canvas where relationships can enlighten us to the truth of ourselves and surroundings, then what happens when, to paraphrase LaBute's words, cruelty is the canvas?

That's what you get with his play The Shape of Things, which premiered in London in 2001, and is the next production by the University of Georgia Department of Theatre, guest directed by Lisa Cesnik Ferguson of the Rose of Athens Theatre.

First a basic synopsis: it's a Pygmalion-style make-over story with the genders reversed. Now, forget I ever conjured Audrey Hepburn. The Shape of Things begins in a museum where the lovely renegade artist Evelyn, conspiring to deface a censored sculpture, is thwarted by the security guard, aptly titled Adam. Moments after their chance tryst, we see them happily engage in the cute PDA of new coupledom. She's a grad school spitfire goddess, challenging his self-doubt and burning Adam's best friends in intellectual debates at the same time. To his chagrin, of course, but still, he'll do anything for her. He should be thankful she cares.

We don't know Adam previously, but after a short courtship, those who do aren't shy about citing what's changed: his weight, cute hair, expensive clothes. His “improvements” are reluctantly lauded by friends Phil and Jenny alongside a mix of bemusement and suspicion. But as the severity of Evelyn's suggestions escalates and Adam grows more evasive with the details, his friends grow more concerned. After one particular attempt at prying, Phil concedes: “Well, we're not on intimate terms.” Watching him wrestle with a version of Adam he doesn't recognize and failing to penetrate the shell is disorienting. And that's it right there.

Working on dual levels: superficiality and authenticity, intellectual distance and emotional attachment, The Shape of Things explores what happens if we attempt to marry these dichotomies within the realm of a relationship. Is it possible? Ethical? All relationships are experiments after all. There's no way to know how or when they may or may not end. And when they do, what's left is just sad evidence: trinkets, personal belongings, pictures—items useless to parties uninvolved, right? Maybe not, we find, as LaBute merges the scientific and the emotional, with disturbing results.

At the play's denouement, Evelyn is an easy villain. Clap your hands—another Eve-prophecy is fulfilled. But that wouldn't make Neil LaBute too clever. If The Shape of Things incites excavation of what's below the surface, then LaBute's exploitation of our gut reaction to the story of original sin makes for a more interesting statement of moral ambiguity. All the serpent business is black and white—we know how it ends. What's compelling, though, is watching amorality and immorality fraternize, ranging from fibs to “sick fucking jokes.” Uncertainty of the difference is disorienting, but, as I said, pleasure isn't the point. With the tenacity of his anti-heroine, LaBute adheres to the mission of going too far and refusing to apologize, which feels like twisting a finger in a wound by the final scene, but the element of human complexity over straight-up maleficent archetype drives home the point. Evelyn's fleeting moments of true emotional response make her stoic indignation that much more disconcerting.

Unlike his films In the Company of Men and Your Friends and Neighbors, which are arguably extreme for extreme's sake, either for sport or the inescapable point of no return, The Shape of Things makes an internecine concoction out of charisma and artistic purpose. And if you feel confused when it's over, you're doing it right.

Don't miss The Shape of Things playing at the Cellar Theatre of the Fine Arts Building, Jan. 26–31 at 8 p.m. with an additional matinee on Jan. 31 at 2:30 p.m.

Making Thought Visible: The Boalian Theatre Troupe, a student theatre organization employing the Theatre of the Oppressed techniques crafted by my personal hero, Brazilian theatre practitioner Augusto Boal, is hosting a workshop: Exploring Image Theatre. Described as “weapons of liberation,” Theatre of the Oppressed is a system of games and exercises that enables a grassroots approach to empowering community action. Fifty years after its conception, TO remains a definitive method of activism through art and exists today in the streets, schools, hospitals and courthouses of 70 countries, utilized by artists, social workers, teachers, psychologists and politicians. Image theatre allows the expression of opinion through the body only. This workshop is the first in a series of events sponsored by the troupe called “Soapbox Discussions” and is headed by Theatre of the Oppressed guru and professor of theatre George Contini. If you’re interested, please email Antonia McCain: antonialache@gmail.com to confirm your slot. Dress in comfortable clothing for movement, bring an image that has an emotional effect on you and a current news article to room 201 of the Fine Arts Building on Jan. 30, noon–3 p.m.

Amy Whisenhunt