‘God of Carnage’ @ Theatre Three
Photos by Jeffrey Schmidt
—Martha Heimberg
Civilization and savagery slug it out verbally and viscerally in Theatre Three’s production of God of Carnage, Yasmina Reza’s 2008 dark comedy that’s won all kinds of awards and been translated from the French into at least 20 languages—and into English by playwright Christopher Hampton. So, it’s gotta hit some universal human funny bone pretty hard. Like, ouch.
Directed here by queen of hard-hitting satire Christie Vela, also T3’s associate artistic director, the four characters of the play are tossed into a kind of metaphorical boxing ring, formed at the center of the theater’s intimate arena stage by an espresso bar at one end and a chic rum bar at the other. Expensive furniture and a wall of tribal-looking artworks tell us we’re in an upscale New York apartment. Lauren Wheat designed the great set, with props designer Taylor Tindol providing plenty of potential domestic weapons, including fresh tulips and rare art books.
Two 11-year-old boys get into a playground fight. One of them is whacked in the face. The show opens with their (ahem) civilized parents meeting to discuss the kids’ little altercation, or “the breaking of two incisors,” as the victim’s furious mom puts it. What begins as a discussion, with coffee and homemade tarts, rises from barely civil to utterly savage during the 85-minute visit, which of course is the point of Reza’s satire—that our “good manners” are a fragile social construct with no real roots in human nature.
Just below the cool and civil surface brews a self-serving egomaniac (or two, or…) ready to erupt at the least smirk or perceived insult, especially when emboldened by the liquid courage of really good rum. The pressures of working and parenting would be enough for a blow-up—never mind having a legally licensed parent in the mix.
Veronica (Natalie Young) and Michael (Ethan Norris) have invited the parents of their son’s “attacker” over to hear Veronica’s written statement about how her son lost his two front teeth to a boy “armed” with a stick. A do-gooder matron who’s writing about the tragedy of Darfur, Young’s svelte, fierce Veronica is so tightly wound that her lips visibly tremble when she’s angry, and she giggles nervously when she thinks she’s won a round. Her voice gets shriller and hoarser as she moves from coffee to alcohol, particularly and hilariously when she’s defending culture and reason as the refuge of civilization.
Norris’s Michael, a big, bluff guy with his short hair pulled back in a ponytail, seems like a really supportive dad and husband, but there’s the issue of their daughter’s beloved abandoned hamster, plus Michael’s eagerness to agree with the other guy in the room when he’s had more rum. He starts sweating and reeling off his true thoughts about civil institutions like marriage,—to roaring laughter from the opening night audience. Now the females have moved to the same side of the ring. Dynamic directing and ensemble acting, all the way.
Annette (Lauren LeBlanc) and Alan (Mike Schraeder) object to the aggressive wording of the document right away, and Annette starts marking up the statement. While they go through the nerve-working pleasantries of a first meeting of latent enemies, Schraeder’s Alan constantly interrupts the flow, answering a string of cell-phone calls about a client’s media crisis over a pharmaceutical drug that’s making people sick. Alan’s voice grows louder, and his legal advice sparks with more four-letter words. What a puffed-up important international lawyer he is! He refuses to apologize on behalf of his son, for what he considers a natural act by an angry kid.
Meanwhile, LeBlanc’s quietly teeth-gritting Annette is getting a little sick of her husband’s rude dedication to his phone, and begins to sway over the art books. The result involves rubber gloves, a wash pail and a hair dryer that comes in handy later in the show. Halfway through the visit, everyone is yelling at everyone else. Alan is making a speech about the God of Carnage and what men really want from women, while Annette has ideas about what to do with that phone. (No, not that.)
The extraordinary physical stunts in the show make the warring parents even funnier. I had to keep reminding myself it’s okay to laugh—because they’re actors …or professional fighters, maybe?
It’s a hilarious play, with a glassy edge of bitterness. Have a good guffaw and a stiff drink after God of Carnage. But maybe not rum.
WHEN: February 1-March 3, 2024
WHERE: 2688 Laclede Street, Dallas
WEB: theatre3dallas.com
