God of Carnage
God of Carnage
By Yamuna Reza
Directed by Mark Routhier
Orlando Shakespeare Theatre, Orlando FL</strong>
Children obsess us and then destroy us, but in the meanwhile they can paper over some pretty serious problems in our personal relations. A school yard fight broke out, teeth were knocked loose, and now the offended parties’ parents are looking for an eye ball’s worth of revenge. Perhaps a peace conference might help – espresso and Clafoutis and 10 years old vintage rum as peace offerings, and heartfelt “I’m sorry’s” by everyone who offended an Earth Goddess or CNN or Fox. But while Veronica (Anne Hering) is serving food and her husband Michael (Mark Ferrera) is regaling us with plumbing fixture stories, high power lawyer Alan (Rus Blackwell) is screaming on his cell phone and his wife Annette (Suzanne O’Donnell) is politely vomiting on priceless art books. Yes, Virginia, George and Martha are back to life, and this time they really do have little demon spawn.
Yes, I hate these people. They are overpaid and overbearing and over here, but watching them self-destruct is a joy. While there are obviously parallels with Albee’s famous show here we have more modern concerns, a little less alcohol, but an equally open ended resolve. Blackwell is nervous and abrupt and a school yard fight is beneath him, he’s defending Congolese war criminals at The Hague and a $150 million dollar year drug that makes old people walk into walls. His wife Annette is vacuous and her main skill is being nice in the face of insult but she also pukes on the front row patrons with grace and aplomb and nary a hint of the nasty pukey odor that can make the rest of us join in. On the other end of the couch have a more mismatched couple. Veronica may have beaten off the demon of alcohol but it’s been replaced with demon of saving the world one starvation at a time, and perhaps a book with nice pictures will make the people in Darfur sleep easier tonight. Her husband Michael might be described as “earthy,” he hates small animals and knows how to pull Alan’s chain. Sometimes the couples group together, sometimes its men vs. women, and sometimes it’s a Texas Cage Tag Team Wrestling match. But however you line up the players, it’s loud, vicious and funny.
Just so you know these are angry people, designer Robbin Watts hangs shards of glass in the air, lights them with bloody red gels and even arranges for gore to drip out of the armor plating on the walls. For respite, happy 1980’s pop songs seem through the lobby as if “Walking on Sunshine” would make up for the verbal blood and guts splatter on stage. Do we care about our children? Sure, but they need to sort some things out themselves and so what if they start a gang? Maybe that will give them the organizational skills to start a company, and maybe the pain of getting a tooth knocked out will drive them into Law School or PETA. But whatever evil befalls the children, it will revisit itself on the adults many times over. That what the God of Carnage promised us somewhere back in the Old Testament: “I got yer eyeball right here – come get it back, if you think you can.”
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