Review: God of Carnage

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Above left: Marcus Graham, Helen Thomson, Sacha Horler and Russell Dykstra.

Above right: Marcus Graham, Russell Dykstra and Sacha Horler.

All photos: Brett Boardman.

Russell Dykstra and Sacha Horler.

Helen Thomson and Russell Dykstra.

POSTED: 13 OCTOBER 2009

God of Carnage, by Yasmina Reza, translated by Christopher Hampton

(Sydney Theatre Company | Sydney Opera House | Until 14 November)

How very civilised ... pre-dinner drinks at the Opera Bar, a delicious serving of frightfully healthy warm chickpea-and-beetroot salad, followed by a night at the theatre.

Well ... the dinner and drinks were civilised.

Yasmina Reza’s God of Carnage, winner of three Tony Awards and touted as a worldwide hit, casts a spotlight on the easily chipped, thin veneer of civilisation in which we like to coat ourselves.

Alain (Marcus Graham) and Annette (Helen Thompson) are guests at Michel (Russell Dykstra) and Veronique’s (Sacha Horler). Their 11-year-old boys have been fighting and the parents have decided to meet in the spirit of reconciliation and diplomacy. The boys may brawl, but the adults know how to settle such disputes with words and understanding. Yeah, right!

Veronique’s elegant arrangement of tulips is centre-stage, framed by stylish red leather lounges and a scattering of art-history books. Espresso and clafouti are served. By the end of the afternoon, her carefully contrived scene of understated sophistication will resemble a demolition zone.

What starts as a courteous summit quickly deteriorates from snide self-righteousness to vicious indictments, barely concealed restraint through to outright violence. Alliances shift and noone is beyond reproach or attack.

God of Carnage is gloriously funny and razor-sharp satire. As the characters’ true personalities override their pretence, Annette’s plummy vowels grind down to nasal twang; Michel’s small-l liberal bonhomie is ripped asunder. Veronique’s aspirations of tolerance are as flimsy as her gallery programs. While a morally bankrupt lawyer — Alain — is no real surprise, even he reveals his rough edges.

Director Gale Edwards has the undoubted joy of working with a cast of extraordinary talent, excellent comedy timing and physical bravery (with a particular mention to Thompson, without giving anything away). Reza’s script beautifully builds the anarchy to its startling end.

Sydney Theatre Company’s programs are always fascinating reading. There’s a terrific section in the program for God of Carnage outlining the astounding cross-cultural similarity when it comes to deifying destruction.

I recently watched a television program on the nature of violence, its basic assertion being that given the right mix of circumstance, genetics and environmental precursors, even the most placid individual is capable of aggression and brutality. It’s a disquieting but feasible contention. Any teacher mediating a playground quarrel; any lawyer negotiating a divorce settlement; any police officer attending a domestic dispute will concur.

While this is undoubtedly hilarious theatre, God of Carnage is elevated beyond pure comedy by its precise depictions of human fallibility. This is funny because it’s true ... that this is true is not so funny.

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