God Of Carnage
Theatre Royal, Bath Until Sat, 1hr 20mins
Middle-class snobbery, pretension and hubris have been the stuff of comedy for centuries. No one has done it quite so explosively and hilariously as the award-winning French writer Yasmina Reza in this neat exposé of ‘liberal’ values. The four-hander, premiered here in 2008, was also turned into a 2011 film, Carnage, with Jodie Foster and Kate Winslet.
It all starts trivially, and cordially, enough, escalating after a scrap between two 11-year-old tykes as their supposedly civilised parents meet to air their differences and come to a tolerant, mutually agreed way forward.
The chic living room of the host couple is dominated in Peter McKintosh’s design by a ceiling ornament comprising a giant tangle of lethal-looking African spears – a symbol of the relationships here and a sign of the battleground to come as the negotiations turn toxic.
It starts trivially enough, as the supposedly civilised parents of two 11-year-olds meet to air their differences. Above:L-R Nigel Lindsay, Amanda Abbington, Elizabeth McGovern, Ralf Little
Veronica, it emerges, is a slightly smug liberal intellectual who is writing a book about Darfur; husband Michael – given a hint of danger by Nigel Lindsay – sells pots and pans. Uh-oh: incompatibility alert.
The other pair are no better: as wealth manager Annette, (Amanda Abbington, of Sherlock fame) is coiled like a spring with tension, her body language screaming irritation – this even before she vomits copiously over the pale furnishings and valuable books. No wonder she’s scrappy.
Alan, her ghastly lawyer husband self-importantly taking endless mobile phone calls, is a complete and utter jerk (shame Ralf Little’s performance isn’t more nuanced).
Wealth manager Annette (Amanda Abbington, above with Ralf Little) is coiled like a spring with tension, her body language screaming irritation – this even before she vomits copiously
So it’s no surprise that the quartet descend into child- like tit-for-tat behaviour themselves (and how responsible are they for their kids’ behaviour anyway?). The tulips come in for a major battering and that mobile phone is clearly history.
Reza’s trick is in constantly shifting the battle lines, not just between the two warring couples but also between husband and wife, especially after Michael’s dyspeptic observations on marriage.
The divide goes across gender lines as well: when one of the chaps opines that ‘women think too much’, the alliances change once again.
Lindsay Posner’s production isn’t as subtle or seamless as the original West End version with Tamsin Greig, Janet McTeer and Ken Stott, which revealed Ralph Fiennes’s real talent for comedy as the obnoxious Alan.
Neither does this quite gives a sense of real breakdown, despite some climactic moments.
As owlish Veronica, Elizabeth McGovern (ex of Downton Abbey) is in great form, though, by turns a disapproving, spectacled harpie and a quivering mass of howling misery at the world’s injustices – and these awful people.
Six
Arts Theatre, London Until Oct 14, touring to Dec 30, 1hr 15mins
Rating: 
Serious historians look away now. We all know Henry VIII lost his head over half a dozen women – and two of them lost theirs, literally.
This punchy pop extravaganza is the story of the six women who were ‘unfriended’ by the beardy monarch and is imbued with the spirit of the Spice Girls as much as Henry. Queen Power rules as the women in question stomp around in sparkly Tudor dominatrix garb.
You can imagine TV historian David Starkey hoiking a supercilious eyebrow at all these shenanigans but this was put together by two former Cambridge students – Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss, who also co-directs with Jamie Armitage.
This punchy pop extravaganza is the story of the six women who were ‘unfriended’ by the beardy monarch. Above: Aimie Atkinson as Catherine Howard
There is a certain amount of historical fact as the wives’ stories are told in song, competing to show who suffered most from their royal liaison (the two beheaded wives are, unsurprisingly, rather lemon-lipped here).
The six have tended to be lumped together as a historical job lot, but in this show each has her own moment, with varying musical styles to suit, from a disco version of Greensleeves to R&B and a heartfelt ballad from Natalie Paris’s Jane Seymour.
With Anne of Cleves we get a tribute to Holbein – whose flattering portrait of her was probably the first-ever misleading profile pic – and a riot of Teutonic techno and neon ruffs.
Partying like it’s 1499, this is witty and knowing, and the performances are energetic, sassy and slick. History lessons were always a bit of a snooze for me but there’s no dozing off on these ladies’ watch.
sixthemusical.com