BY LUCIA MAURO
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Back in the mid-1970s, a very young Lusia Strus would get together with friends and re-create episodes from the charmingly tacky Sid and Marty Kroft sci-fi kids’ TV series, "Land of the Lost." The show centered on three youngsters who got pushed through various time warps and found themselves battling dinosaurs and space aliens. During a recent interview, the actress-writer recounted this memory between focused puffs on a cigarette and her characteristic throaty laugh.
"We would pretend, and I believed it," says Strus, 34. "Acting is very much like a child making believe. I’m not one to become a character, but I fall in love with the character. It’s like having faith; you’re going to be that person for a while."
While the Chicago-born actress takes her craft very seriously, she does not care to impose lofty theories on her chosen profession. At 5 feet, 10 inches tall, the blonde Strus–with her chiseled features and deeply resonant voice (somewhere between Midwest nasal and velvety Eastern European lilt)–cuts an imposing figure on stage. Admitting that she is often considered "an interesting and/or risky choice," Strus has exhibited an impressive range since plunging into the Chicago theatre scene in 1993.
She got her earliest experience with The Neo-Futurists (where she is still an ensemble member) and has since carved out intense, moving and malleable performances. They include the Devil in Next Theatre’s History of the Devil; Julia Gibbs in Our Town at Steppenwolf Studio; Madeleine in Organic’s Indiscretions; Anna and the famed Nude Woman in Steppenwolf’s Hysteria; an embittered paraplegic in Susan Nussbaum’s No One As Nasty at Victory Gardens; and the strong-willed bundle of contradictions, Ludmilla, in European Rep’s Go Away, Go Away.
Other productions include Lifeline’s The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death; A Pirate’s Lullaby in the Goodman Studio; Northlight’s Atomic Bombers; and a Bride in Goodman’s Big Love, not to mention countless performances of The Neo-Futurists’ Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind here and abroad.
Last year, Strus tried her hand at an abbreviated solo show, "Too Busy To Be Famous," at Donny’s Skybox in Piper’s Alley. But she made her "commissioned" solo debut with "It Ain’t No Fairy Tale" (part of the recent Love & Sin: A Solo Experience engagement at the Steppenwolf Garage) which frankly and sensitively paralleled her upcoming marriage on Aug. 10 and her Ukrainian immigrant parents’ lifelong "deal of being good to each other." A solidly acted and disarming piece of writing, which unsentimentally addressed what it means to vow to commit oneself to another person, "It Ain’t No Fairy Tale" served as a pivotal transition in her career, which will include more writing even as she continues to pursue a larger acting presence.
After the wedding, Strus and her husband Mike plan to move to Las Vegas–a good base for her film-TV pursuits in nearby Los Angeles. A notoriously fast driver, she says she can make it to L.A. from Vegas in three-and-a-half hours; but she also plans to live in L.A. four days a week.
"I actually would love to live in New York," admits Strus. "But I need land; I need space. I’d love to move to a place where I could have a lot of land and a goat. But I also want to be able to continue to act, make a living and have a certain degree of fame. When Mike and I talked about this, he said he would move as far as Vegas. And we’re both okay with this."
She candidly adds, "We threw the balls up in the air and don’t really know where they’ll fall. But I’m ready. People have told me that you have to go to L.A. when you’re in your 20s. But L.A. can be a soulless place and, when I was in my 20s, I was not spiritually fit for that environment. Besides, this face and this voice on a 20-year-old could be kind of scary. I think my face and voice suit me better as I get older."
One of her motivations for moving to L.A. is the potential for working with actors she respects and admires (top choices include William H. Macy and Glenn Close). Strus has appeared in many independent films (Stir of Echoes and Soul Survivors) and the TV shows "Cupid" and "Early Edition."
"What I love about theatre is that it disappears as it happens," she says. "But I like the documentation of film and the way the director isolates the story. I also think there are brilliant sitcoms and TV dramas [most notably, "Six Feet Under"]. I would do a sitcom in a heartbeat.
"There’s a part of me that wants to be known and make a comfortable living but still be able to go grocery shopping. My overall idea of success is having people I want to work with want to work with me."
When asked the ubiquitous question of what drew her to acting, Strus simply states, "I always wanted attention, and I realized I could make people laugh."
She then recalls doing cartwheels and backbends as a child in her First Holy Communion dress at the White Eagle Restaurant in Niles. Strus grew up on Chicago’s northwest side and attended Mother Guerin High School, where she claims she "was busy partying and getting in a lot of trouble." During her senior year, she performed in a production of Butterflies Are Free at St. Patrick’s High School. The show traveled to the Illinois Theatre Festival at Illinois State University, which took notice of Strus. The administrators told her about scholarship options. At the time, she didn’t realize you could actually major in theatre.
Her mother worked long, back-breaking hours as a cleaning lady. And even her mom acknowledged that an actor’s life is much harder. But her family encouraged her (Strus describes her mother as "an extraordinary woman"). She notes that, if any of the children wanted to play the organ or take tap lessons–even for one day–her parents would sign them up and manage to get them what they needed. Strus went on to receive her B.S. in theatre from ISU in Bloomington-Normal, Ill.
"College was a great time," she explains. "I partied there, but I also learned how to act. My professors [many of them tied to Steppenwolf Theatre] made me hungry. While we were this Sam Shepard/rock 'n’ roll theatre, we also had guest teachers like Lee Breuer and JoAnne Akalaitis who expanded my mind about what theatre was.
"What I loved about ISU is that the building was never closed. We could go in there anytime and rehearse and get inspired. I remember a group of us turning on the Rolling Stones and rehearsing Tooth of Crime at 3 in the morning. And I learned that it was not about throwing chairs. We also were allowed to produce our own shows."
Found-space productions were strongly encouraged. One of her most inspiring experiences was a production of Caryl Churchill’s Vinegar Tom, performed only once at midnight in a classroom. The audience sat in a circle surrounded by dried leaves and candles.
Strus craves kinetic and unpredictable theatre experiences.
"I get bored at the theatre a lot," she says, "because I notice that there’s not always a connection between the actors. They may be technically proficient, but they’re not surprising each other. I’m thrilled by actors who make choices that are surprising.
"I personally take cues directly from the script, then I like to surprise the other actors. But you must maintain control on a level and see how far you can go up, down or out emotionally. You have to balance the craft with spontaneity. What draws me to the theatre, and what appealed to me about Too Much Light, is that you have no fucking idea what’s going to happen. That’s the most exciting part of theatre, it’s never the same. If it were, it would be like watching a movie."
After Strus graduated from ISU in 1991, she worked "her ass off" as a waitress for one year to get out of debt from school. Her first professional production was Orpheus Descending at the now-closed Zebra Crossing Theatre, before she joined The Neo-Futurists in 1993 and got turned on to writing. The experimental, self-generated aesthetic of The Neo-Futurists quickly got Strus pegged as "a performance artist."
"I don’t even know what that means," she says. "I realized that I wanted to play characters and do traditional theatre. I wanted to make believe again. I like putting on a costume and pretending to be someone else for a few hours, and I have a great respect for playwrights. But I moved between both arenas. I remember doing a traditional show and then racing to get to Too Much Light."
Acting for Strus is a vocation for which she may not have made a rational or conscious decision. She just knows that she could not imagine not acting.
"I worked in restaurants and did what I needed to do to act," she explains. "Theatre is a hard life. It sucks a lot of time, and you’re rejected a lot. But I knew acting is what I wanted. For six years, I acted for free. Now I make a living acting, but I think there are only five percent of us who can do that. I’m ready to try more."
She continues, "I think actors have to figure out if they’re really good and be honest about it. You have to truly enjoy it without getting uptight. It’s really helpful to think of an audition as a performance. It’s an opportunity to act for two minutes."
Strus is attracted to funny and quirky characters ("The first thing I look for is the humor," she says, "because you can tell what the character’s fears and insecurities are through the humor.") She favors slightly twisted plays that require strong physicality. She also devotes herself to the process and, in the past, has fretted incessantly over mastering a role. For No One As Nasty, she made a deal with playwright Nussbaum to spend six hours a day in a wheelchair. Strus went so far as to travel on buses in a wheelchair. One day, the lift on the bus broke. The vehicle was evacuated, and the Fire Department was called to help carry her off the bus.
Before every performance, she says a prayer: "I pray to be of service to the playwright, the audience, the other actors and my character."
Strus is already planning to return to Chicago next year. She recently proposed her script idea to Steppenwolf Arts Exchange regarding a play that links various Chicago immigrant communities based on actual interviews. And someday she would like to translate a Ukrainian play for European Rep, a troupe with which she feels a close affinity. "Our frame of reference is similar," she notes. "You scream at each other in an Eastern European household, but there’s never a question of whether or not you love each other. You cry and beat your chest, but it’s all rooted in love."
The actress has found a greater sense of inner peace and security through her soon-to-be-husband Mike.
"I’ve always had this deep and chronic sense of dissatisfaction," she confesses. "But Mike is satisfied; he has really given me that. There’s something about being in real love that makes me feel secure. I know who my best friend is."
After a few more measured drags on her cigarette, Strus ponders, "I used to say yes to everything. Now I have to be excited about a script before I accept a role. I’ve been able to let a lot of things go–like worrying–in a good way. I wish I learned that 'wear-it-like-a-loose-garment’ attitude earlier."
And in one last poignantly streamlined reflection, she strips her vocation of all weighty self-importance: "I don’t call myself an artist. I act. That’s what I do."