Savagely Fine GOD OF CARNAGE

God of Carnage
by Yasmina Reza
translated by Christopher Hampton
directed by Matthew Warchus
Ahmanson Theatre
through May 29

What Edward Albee boldly achieved with Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? in the 60s fiercely influenced Yasmina Reza as she seizes the moment and goes a giant step further in her brilliant recreation of human savagery in God of Carnage now onstage @ the Ahmanson Theatre until May 29. With the complete original award-winning Broadway cast in tact, this Comedy of Manners - Without the Manners, like an explosive, tears the roof right off the theatre.

Reza places her characters in a very uncomfortable situation and allows them to say and do all the things that people trapped similarly would like to say and do, but, fearing the consequences of their actions, hold back. So, in this light, what we see is an exaggerated reality. What starts out as a gentle face-to-face chat between two sets of parents (Marcia Gay Harden and James Gandolfini; Hope Davis and Jeff Daniels) who have met to discuss an unpleasant incident that occurred between their sons turns into a free-for-all bordering on the primitive carnage suggested by the title. Verbal insults turn into physical assaults on property and people, and there's a total loss of control. Each person becomes an isolated beast left to lick his own wounds without one shred of caring left between any of them. The playwright does not depict the scene, however, in a serious vein, but, au contraire, lets the sparks fly in an all out comedic roast. And, as black comedies go, what makes the audience react with gales of laughter is the instant recognition through shock and dismay of their very own feelings. "Boy oh boy, does he (she) deserve that, so let him (her) have it!" Shockingly hilarious!

Suffice to say the cast is ingenious. Harden as caring yet outspoken supermom and writer Veronica is astonishing. Her obsessive-compulsive reactions to Annette's throwing up all over her priceless coffee table book about Africa is a stitch. Rather than attend to her guest she puts on rubber gloves like Felix Unger and proceeds to clean up the mess. Then her vicious attack on husband Michael (Gandolfini), which is like a tiger pouncing upon its prey, is viciously delicious. Davis as more soft-spoken Annette makes a delightfully realistic drunk. In that state she finds the peace that is so lacking around her. The women's roles dominate the piece, as the female species definitely comes off stronger and more victorious. But the weaker men, who more than display their true colors are superbly played by Gandolfini as the indifferent nihilist Michael and Jeff Daniels as Alan, a lawyer whose cell phone is more precious than life itself. A pretty common image in today's society! Both men are portrayed as uncaring, macho creatures without a shred of decency. What child would want to call either one father! The women are just as violent, but somehow want and care more for the human condition.

Mark Thompson's set is like a bleak painting with the stone cold living room area of Michael and Veronica's home stage left set off by a blood red carpet and very large red background wall. At first glance, all you see is red, like a battlefield. His black costumes work beautifully against the blood red decor. Matthew Warchus' direction is spot-on dynamic as the play's pacing is fast and furious in the showdowns and then comes to a screeching halt in several pauses as the opponents rest and prepare for the next round.

In spite of the unreality of the behavior in Reza's God of Carnage, life as we know it is moving so fast and people care so much about themselves as opposed to others, that what she portrays might sadly be right around the next corner. An isolated existence - pitiful but true!

Brilliant play; brilliant production!

 

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