CarnageIf Carnage--Roman Polanski's adaptation of Yasmina Reza's play, "God of Carnage"--says anything about how we portray ourselves, it is that we attempt to maintain at least a superficial level of civility toward one another, and avoid slipping into all-out warfare. What's that they say about "best intentions"? Two pairs of parents convene to "discuss" (read: establish dominance for potentially varying reasons) an altercation between their children, establishing a microcosm-version of a U.N. peace summit...the one they don't show on C-SPAN, with papers flying, delegates downing shots of scotch, hurling insults, handbags...and just plain "hurling".
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Our first shots of Carnage are sans dialogue, depicting a group of kids hanging out at a park. One kid starts pushing another, and so it goes, back and forth until someone takes a swing with a stick and walks off. We don't know who's "right" or "wrong" in this fight, who said what. Instead, we end up with the debate under the auspices of reaching some kind of reconciliation between the two boys by their parents--the Longstreets and the Cowans; they handle all the rest of the fighting from here. The ensemble cast of Carnage provides characters that represent immediately recognizable people, archetypes of passive-aggressiveness, smarminess, and poor manners, perhaps like someone you already know, and that verisimilitude makes it all the more exciting when each one goes from the thin veneer of artificial pleasantries, the recuring social faux pas born of frustration, culminating in a shocking and inappropriate (but revealing) full disclosure of each persons' true selves, their rusted armor scoured away through their verbal barbs and cyclical upbraiding, leaving the gleaming (blinding even) id shining brazenly forth. And nobody's really happy, having lost that grip on their safety net. Like Linus in Peanuts without his blanket, they crumble out of shock, and they careen out of control into brutal honesty.
Our four contestants in this "touchy-feely" cage match include Penelope Longstreet (Jodie Foster), who may be small in stature, but demands that her dedication to upholding civilized values be acknowledged, and further demands that the Cowens' son apologize--but with sincerity--for "brutalizing" her son. Penelope does a lot of demanding; she begins as fussy, but over time becomes an overbearing martyr. Her other half is Michael (John C. Reilly), a down-to-earth fella--a bit henpecked, though--who tries (but fails) to diffuse his wife's flashes of vitriol with mitigation and being an overall decent host--offering cobbler and coffee...later scotch and cigars. But Michael doesn't really see things his wife's way, and becomes increasingly frustrated with her moral superiority, responding to the escalating tension with boorish remarks and indifferent sloth. In the other corner, we have Alan Cowan (Christoph Waltz), big shot attorney, glued to his cellphone-type, who seems present simply as a courtesy to his wife. We learn--can't help but overhear--that he is representing a pharmaceutical company with questionable business practices. But while his coaching for his clients is unethical, his involvement in this Brooklyn apartment courtroom keeps that keen logical mind of a lawyer sharp, rebutting Penelope's prods and grandstanding. Conversely, Alan is pretty much a narcissist and egoist (maybe a few more -ists, too), disputing the importance of the kids' confrontation at all by relating events to his own "more important" experiences and concerns, and ultimately devaluing the significance of anyone else's needs by proposing his standards--about violence and even his misogynistic views on gender equality--are the only important ones. And his wife Nancy (Kate Winslet) seems kind and motherly, a voice of reason who masks her anxiety and vanity with a gentle tone (initially) and an apparent desire to settle the dispute and part ways without having to deal with further complications. But Nancy cannot stomach (sorry) Michael's revelation about leaving Nibbles the hamster out on the sidewalk the night before, nor Penelope's accusations toward her son, nor her husband's uninvolvement in her son's life. She takes to her handbag, constantly applying makeup like a nervous tic, and when she can't bear to keep up that "phony" facade any longer, she lashes out like a spoiled brat, but for her it is a desperate release of tension and pent-up frustration. These four characters are so rich in personality that if even one of them was removed from this delightfully volatile chemistry experiment, the whole thing might fizzle; and what's a civilized gathering of parents and professionals without an explosion?
Recommended for: Fans of a good play-to-film adaptation, rich on smart, snappy dialogue and ultra-realistic characters with delightful character flaws that make for a good show. Grab a chair and some apple-pear cobbler and lukewarm Coke.
Our four contestants in this "touchy-feely" cage match include Penelope Longstreet (Jodie Foster), who may be small in stature, but demands that her dedication to upholding civilized values be acknowledged, and further demands that the Cowens' son apologize--but with sincerity--for "brutalizing" her son. Penelope does a lot of demanding; she begins as fussy, but over time becomes an overbearing martyr. Her other half is Michael (John C. Reilly), a down-to-earth fella--a bit henpecked, though--who tries (but fails) to diffuse his wife's flashes of vitriol with mitigation and being an overall decent host--offering cobbler and coffee...later scotch and cigars. But Michael doesn't really see things his wife's way, and becomes increasingly frustrated with her moral superiority, responding to the escalating tension with boorish remarks and indifferent sloth. In the other corner, we have Alan Cowan (Christoph Waltz), big shot attorney, glued to his cellphone-type, who seems present simply as a courtesy to his wife. We learn--can't help but overhear--that he is representing a pharmaceutical company with questionable business practices. But while his coaching for his clients is unethical, his involvement in this Brooklyn apartment courtroom keeps that keen logical mind of a lawyer sharp, rebutting Penelope's prods and grandstanding. Conversely, Alan is pretty much a narcissist and egoist (maybe a few more -ists, too), disputing the importance of the kids' confrontation at all by relating events to his own "more important" experiences and concerns, and ultimately devaluing the significance of anyone else's needs by proposing his standards--about violence and even his misogynistic views on gender equality--are the only important ones. And his wife Nancy (Kate Winslet) seems kind and motherly, a voice of reason who masks her anxiety and vanity with a gentle tone (initially) and an apparent desire to settle the dispute and part ways without having to deal with further complications. But Nancy cannot stomach (sorry) Michael's revelation about leaving Nibbles the hamster out on the sidewalk the night before, nor Penelope's accusations toward her son, nor her husband's uninvolvement in her son's life. She takes to her handbag, constantly applying makeup like a nervous tic, and when she can't bear to keep up that "phony" facade any longer, she lashes out like a spoiled brat, but for her it is a desperate release of tension and pent-up frustration. These four characters are so rich in personality that if even one of them was removed from this delightfully volatile chemistry experiment, the whole thing might fizzle; and what's a civilized gathering of parents and professionals without an explosion?
Recommended for: Fans of a good play-to-film adaptation, rich on smart, snappy dialogue and ultra-realistic characters with delightful character flaws that make for a good show. Grab a chair and some apple-pear cobbler and lukewarm Coke.