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by Yasmina Reza, directed by Diana Leblanc

Théâtre français de Toronto, Berkeley Street Theatre Upstairs, Toronto

October 21-November 5, 2011

“Les Enfants sauvages”

Le Dieu du carnage by Yasmina Reza is a wickedly funny satire.  French playwright and novelist Reza was previously best known for her international hit comedy ‘Art’ (1994) that has so far had three professional productions in Toronto, two in English and one in French.  Le Dieu du carnage (“God of Carnage” in English) from 2006 won the 2009 Olivier Award and the 2009 Tony Award for Best New Play and has been made into a film simply titled Carnage by Roman Polanski to be released in Canada on December 16 this year.  Théâtre français de Toronto was the only Toronto theatre company granted permission to perform the play and it has given it a superb production.  If you want to see it in its original format and language, now is the time to do it.

In ‘Art’ two friends fall out when one of them purchases an all-white painting, leaving someone who is friends with both to negotiate a peace between them.  In Carnage two couples fall out over a playground attack by the son of one on the son of the other.  Here, however, there is no one to mediate between the two sides and the attacks grow in ferocity until all energy is spent. 

The point of Carnage is almost too obvious--namely, that civilization and all it produces, including art, is merely a thin veneer masking savage aggression and the primal instinct to dominate that still motivate human interactions.  Michel and Véronique Houllié invite Alain and Annette Reille to their home to discuss the attack earlier that day of the Reilles’ 11-year-old son Ferdinand on the Houlliés’ 11-year-old son Bruno and to arrange for Ferdinand to apologize to Bruno.  This would seem simple enough and all four characters admit that this is a reasonable thing to do.  Even if you know nothing about the play, this initial set-up seems to anticipate the expected ending--that Alain will somehow assault Michel by evening’s end. 

Reza knows this and takes her own pleasure in confounding the audience’s expectations.  She deliberately delays the onset of aggression between the two couples by making the Reille’s unusually understanding of the Houllié’s point of view, with Alain even calling his own son a “savage”.  When anger finally does break out it is not couple against couple, Annette versus her husband because his constant cellphone conversations keep interrupting the discussion.  It certainly does not help that Alain, a lawyer who works for a big pharmaceuticals company, is advising those on the other end of the line to hush up a study that has uncovered dangerous side-effects to one their new drugs.  Reza depicts Alain’s annoying cellphone use itself as a type of aggression since taking a call immediately demeans the people he is with.  Annette sees the irony of the modern man carrying a cellphone in his holster instead of a pistol while men, like Alain, still admire a John Wayne as a model.  Yet, in fact, the result is the same.  Alain’s advised cover-up could deal out death to innocent people.  It is perhaps no surprise that it Alain, who states outright that he believes in a “god of carnage”. 

Meanwhile, the timid wholesaler Michel and his art-loving wife are not devoid of their own conflicts.  While Véronique is working on a book about Darfur, Michel, much to Véronique dismay, has released their daughter’s pet hamster into the “wild” of the streets, and certain death, because he couldn’t stand the creature.  The rift between the Reilles helps expose the rift between the Houlliés.  By the end of the play’s 85 minutes, Reza depicts every possible variation of conflict--the women versus the men, couple versus couple, mixed couple versus mixed couple, women against each other, men against each other and each one of the four versus the other three.  Reza thus explodes the simplistic ending we expect by revealing the beast in every one of the four just as she also makes us ask ourselves why we should long to see this descent into chaos. 

Reza, who is also a musician, has structured the play very like a Rossini overture with its slow beginning and gradual but inevitable crescendo.  It is much to director Diana Leblanc’s credit that she and her cast have captured this musical aspect of the play perfectly.  The play is very well cast.  Colombe Demers is ideal as Véronique, giving even her most conciliatory statements an edge that eventually turns into undisguised disgust.  Olivier L’Écuyer is excellent as Véronique’s passive-aggressive husband who seems in such a cowardly manner to have taken his frustrations out on a poor rodent.  Christian Laurin dominates the stage not merely because of his height and the depth of his voice but because of his imperious manner.  Even when he agrees with the Houlliés we can hear disdain in his voice.  Meanwhile, Tara Nicodemo is hilarious as Annette, who appears so chic and self-possessed but who so quickly descends into raving drunkenness after just a few glasses of rum. 

Designer Glen Charles Landry has created a set that well reflects the cultural pretensions of Véronique along with the themes of the play.  The room is basically all black and white so show that Véronique aspires to stylishness.  Both the poorer Houlliés and the wealthy Reilles are clad entirely in black, white and grey.  Colour is provided by Vérorique’s collection of art books, but what dominates are two blood-red sofas that clearly highlight the theme of carnage. This is echoed in the vase of red tulips that later plays an important role and in the tribal necklace Charles gives Véronique.

In comparing ‘Art’ with Le Dieu du carnage I have to say I prefer the former since the human and formal aspect of the play are in greater balance and it achieve emotional as well as intellectual resonance.  The later play is very funny but the humour is very bitter and we ultimately feel distanced from all the characters, even if Reza’s point is that we are the same.  Nevertheless, Le Dieu du carnage is a work meant for the theatre not for the screen.  Movies can never replicate the 85-minute-long take that is live theatre much less the audience-actor interaction essential to comedy.  Besides, Polanski’s film, though filmed in Paris, has been Americanized and is set in New York.  With such a fine production from TfT in the original language (with English suritles), you should do yourself a favour and see the play now as it was meant to be seen.               

                   

©Christopher Hoile

Note: This review is a Stage Door exclusive.

Photo: Colombe Demers, Christian Laurin and Tara Nicodemo. ©2011 Marc Lemyre.