Ongoing – Feb. 5

The hostility that lurks underneath the veneer of civility, the anger the courses below the appearance of moderation. It’s what fuels “God of Carnage,” up at the Huntington’s BU Theatre through Feb. 5, and it’s perhaps despite what I just wrote it’s an hilarious, sometimes vicious, dark comedy. Chances  are who you like and dislike will zig and zag throughout the 80-minute play.   

     Here’s how it starts: Two couples walk into a nicely appointed, pristine room. It appears that Alan and Annette Raleigh’s  11-year-old son Benjamin has "assaulted  Michael and Veronica Novak’s son, loosens two of Henry’s teeth with a stick.  They’re both smart modern couples.  Alan (Brooks Ashmanskas) is a lawyer representing a pharmaceutical company.  Annette (Christy Pusz), we’re not sure. Michael (Stephen Bogardus)  owns a successful household supplies store; Veronica (Johanna Day) writes books about the strife in Darfur. The Raleighs have come in peace; the Novaks, too, want to make things right. Set up a meeting between the boys? But make sure Benjamin is sincere in his apology. . It’s the “spirit of reconciliation,” as one character says. Everyone wants this to work out. We, however, suspect it won’t just as we suspect that schoolyard fight won’t stay the focus of the play. It merely provides the kindling for the psychodrama to come.  (And we never see any of the kids.)  

    I can’t remember when I’ve laughed as much at the theater, you know, the genuine LOL kind, not just the “knowing” laughter when you recognize irony or something clever. I was far from alone. I haven’t been around this many people vicariously enjoying others’ discomfort in a long time.  Among the pleasures: taking joy in the come-uppance of a near-constant cell phone addict,  a Linda Blair-worthy display of surprise projectile vomiting (yes, the cinema’s favorite new toy come to theater!) and a debate over the cruel fate of the Novaks' daughter' hamster, Nibbles. 

      It’s a talky play, but there’s plenty of physicality, as director Daniel Goldstein sends his actors up and down the elaborate staircase and through fits of pent-up rage and destruction.     Yes, there’s a more than little bit of “Virgina Woolf” in  this play by Yazmina Reza’s (translated from French to English)  –  two bickering couples, arguments fueled by booze. When Michael cheerfully suggests “a little rum?” you just know this isn’t going to be a good idea. (For them; for us it’s a treat.)  “God of Carnage” has an effective calm/storm/calm/storm structure, where the characters behave badly, apologize, and then re-launch at a later time. Call it a rhythm of cruelty, to nick a line from a song by the great post-punk band Magazine from 1979.    

    The playwright, Reza says in the production notes, “My work is visceral and subjective. I’m interested in the banal, unguarded moments and the hairline fractures in a character that let the light through.” At one point, Alan has this philosophical interjection beginning with “Are we interested in anything beyond ourselves?” and ending with “People struggle until they’re dead.” History, he says, is just a series of massacres, one after the other. A little bit of existentialism for you. The play takes its title from his line, “I believe in the god of carnage; he has ruled since the dawn of time.”    “Carnage” is also a farce about shifting allegiances. The spouses start as strong supporters of each other; later the men bond and the women bond in a fast-moving flurry of invective.  (At one point, the husbands  and wives swap partners, intellectually, mind you, and only to support their own point.) There’s the suspicion they all share that this really isn’t about the children. “Children consume our lives,” says Michael, “and then destroy them.”    I would have loved to have seen this in New York in 2009 when James Gandolofini, Jeff Daniels, Hope Davis and Marcia Gay Harden had these roles. But this cast is terrific, and the play hurtles forward with lightning speed. It’s a smart, brutal adult comedy, one where you’ll probably spot bits of yourself. And take comfort in the fact that this is theater. It’s blown out of proportion. Isn’t it?

Tickets: $89-$25. Show is up Tues-Sun. with evening shows mostly at 7:30 and weekend evening shows mostly at 8. Check the website below for exact times. Saturday and Sunday matinees at 2.

264 Huntinton Ave., 617-266-0800 www.huntingtontheatre.org