A lack of civility in provocative ‘God of Carnage’ at City Lights Theater.
It seems at first like a remarkably civilized meeting, under the circumstances. In Yasmina Reza’s comedy “God of Carnage” at San Jose’s City Lights Theater Company, two pairs of parents meet to discuss an incident between their preteen sons in which one boy injured the other in a burst of rage. The parents share some coffee and dessert and discuss what to do to set things right between their kids.
If “God of Carnage” doesn’t exactly sound like the title of a play about people sitting around having a polite conversation, that’s because it’s really about how easily that veneer of civilization gets stripped away. The four soon turn on each other in every possible combination as things turn tense, then frenzied, then to absolute chaos.
Originally written in French, like most of Reza’s work, the play premiered in Switzerland in 2006 (in German). It played the West End in 2008 and Broadway in 2009 in the English translation by Christopher Hampton, racking up Olivier and Tony awards for best new play.
After becoming a Roman Polanski film in 2011 with the shortened title “Carnage,” the comedy made its Bay Area debut in 2012 with separate but practically back-to-back productions at San Jose Repertory Theatre and Marin Theatre Company. It has remained popular with local companies since, though it’s not quite as ubiquitous as Reza’s earlier comedy “Art.”
The play takes place in the living room of Veronica and Michael Novak, tastefully spare except for unruly stacks of books, dominated in Ron Gasparinetti’s set design by a wall-size framed piece of art that resembles a huge, textured slab of stone. The red light ringing the edge of the stage serves as an ominous indicator that things will go poorly.
There’s no bloodshed in the play, but there is a bit of gross-out humor along the way.
The get-together has been orchestrated by Veronica, the almost smotheringly
conscientious mother of the injured boy (comically earnest and uptight Karyn Rondeau). Her wishywashy husband, Michael (amiable Avondina Wills), is easygoing to a fault, just wanting to smooth everything over.
It’s soon apparent that, as well as everyone seems to be getting along initially, there’s all the makings of a culture clash. Veronica is a writer focusing on human rights crises in Africa, while the other boy’s father, Alan (boorish but charismatic Erik Gandolfi), is a high-powered lawyer loudly orchestrating a pharmaceutical company cover-up on the cellphone calls he keeps getting. Both clad in sharp business suits by costumer Amy Zsadanyi-Yale, Alan and wife Annette (April Green, poised and polite) are visibly uncomfortable and impatient with the other couple’s niceties
even before they start getting prickly.
The tension is strong and amusingly uncomfortable at the outset in the City Lights staging by director Virginia Drake, when it’s all mostly subtext. As the behavior becomes more and more extreme, though, it also gets less convincing.
With no scene breaks, it’s a play that constantly builds on itself. Alan and Annette try to leave fairly early on, and several times after that, but every time they turn to go, someone says something that sets them off again. What’s curious about this production is that it seems to lose energy and sharpness as the now-drunken excess increases, and turns of phrase that become a little stilted in translation begin to stand out more than they did before.
The interesting thing about the latter half of the play being less believable than the first is that it also makes the premise less credible. The assertion that we’re all savage at heart is, perhaps mercifully, harder to take seriously when we’re always at least halfaware that they’re just goofing around.