“Enough of this political correctness bullshit,” says Michael Longstreet to his wife Penelope after trying to masquerade her disgust from Nancy and Alan Cowen’s behaviour as guests when trying to reconcile an incident involving their respective sons. The outburst illuminates the essence of a story that opens with high expectations of a mature and thoughtful resolution but concludes with all their pretentious armour pierced with bullets of criticism, exposing just how fragile, hallow and theatrical their lives are.
The credits open with no soundtrack or voiceover but instead a wide shot of the Brooklyn Bridge in the background and a gang of kids troubling another kid at a local park in the foreground. Unable to push the group back, the single kid lashes one of the gang members with a stick and injures his mouth in the process. The following scene opens inside Longstreet’s apartment, where it stays for the duration of the movie, and Penelope, played astutely by Jodie Foster (Inside Man), is writing an incident statement about their son, who was the victim, however Alan Cowen, played delightfully by Christoph Waltz (Inglourious Basterds), is concerned that the comment – ‘being armed with a stick’ inaccurately portrays his son. Penelope happily changes this to ‘carrying a stick’ to the delight of Michael, played compellingly by John Reilly (The Extra Man), who is pleased the follow up to the incident is under control and isn’t being blown out of proportion. Nancy Cowen, played amusingly by Kate Winslet (The Reader), is amazed at the Longstreet’s hospitality as neither she, nor Alan, would have been as gracious had their son been injured in a similar fashion. All seems well and the Cowen’s are about to leave before Penelope asks if their son regrets or understands the implications of his actions and that violence cannot be an acceptable means of resolution. It leads to awkward questions of good parenting as well as vague answers on how one should be able to control one’s actions – which none of the characters prove they’re capable of doing only ten minutes into the film. As a result, the Cowen’s never quite leave the apartment.
Adapted from Yasmina Reza’s stage play, God of Carnage, the script is very dialogue heavy with no significant action taking place in a sound stage which Roman Polanski built in Paris. The well stocked bookshelves and subtly toned decor never distracts you from the pitch-perfect performances that undress and render the hidden flaws from each of the characters. The living room itself acts as a stage or a wrestling ring or even a battle field allowing each of the characters to dissect each other, as well as themselves, of their humanity. This is war for all of them, but there is no clear winner. It often reminds you of another master stage adaptor, Alfred Hitchcock, as he did with Dial M For Murder and Rope fitting much of the tension and suspense in a confine space. The shots, as well as the dialogue, are very tight, focusing on the character’s emotions as well as their facial and physical gestures; frustration from Nancy is delicately shown as only her stretching hand is visible from the corner of the screen while Alan is taking yet another business call disturbing their flow of conversation with the Longstreet’s.
Half way in, the pleasantries die when Nancy feels unwell and eventually regurgitates over Penelope’s precious Oskar Kokoschka art book which has been out of print since the 1950s. This breaks the demure and calm Penelope to unleash her rage with humorous results to the Cowen’s; originally agreeing that it was an accident, she now expresses her true feelings in that her son wasn’t so much as injured but disfigured with intent, and probably will be for the rest of his life. Penelope’s frustration leads to throwing Nancy’s bag to the ground breaking her cosmetics and items inside, which distresses Nancy greatly but not so much as being disappointed in Alan who is unperturbed by the act and remains comfortably seated enjoying his drink. “You never stand up for me,” she says, employing the fact that while her profession is her husband’s ‘wealth manager’ – their marriage lacks any substance due to her craving for materialistic items. Nancy reacts by taking Alan’s Blackberry and damages it by dropping it in vase full of water. “My whole life was in there,” Alan screams with horror, who later shrivels like a child at the loss of not finalising the grading stage of his new pharmaceutical drug. Michael, the positive character of them all, is criticised for flinging his daughter’s hamster into the streets and deemed a ‘murderer’ to which he also screams, “You’re all blowing this out of proportion” – a sharp contrast to what he said only an hour earlier.
At 79 minutes it isn’t a relatively long film so it shouldn’t test your patience however if there are any criticism it’s only that the occasional farcical moments and caricature of Penelope’s behaviour can be overwhelming to bear but it’s a black comedy and the film may also suffer without those moments. This is by no means Polanski’s latest masterpiece, but a reminder that in Paris still lives a talented director whose efforts should always be admired as his execution for film making is never below levels of excellence. Carnage is no exception.
Reviewed by Vaskar S. Kayastha
