Friday, December 16, 2011

Carnage

What could possibly happen when two contemporary, middle-aged, New York City couples get together? A lot more than just coffee and cobbler, to say the least. The plot seems simple enough--two sets of parents meet to try and resolve circumventing issues after their respective sons have a school yard fight. However, the individualism of both couples and of each parent separately, progressively fuel a battle of their own. And what initially starts out as an effort to find resolve between them, spawns into an outrageous series of quarrels that has very little to do with either of their children. The actual fight sequence between Ethan and Zachary (portrayed by Eliot Berger and Polanski's own son Elvis) that opens the movie provides a nice introduction to the storyline. In the theater version, the incident was referred to a lot but never actually seen. Seeing the incident allows us to put a face to the names and actually see these boys as more than just the bane of their parents' lives at present. It may seem insignificant at first, but it is this quarrel that is the very root that feeds all the later mishaps and misfits of Carnage.

Director Roman Polanski has a body of work that spans over half a century. Though varied in plot and characters, they all embrace human indifference and dramatizes even the simplest of circumstances. Early audiences trembled over the horrors of Rosemary's Baby and reveled in his contempt to intrigue in the multilayered plot of Chinatown. Younger audiences hare probably more familiar with a sentimental reproach by the director, particularly with The Pianist which earned him a Best Director Oscar in 2002. Despite being a satirical comedy, Carnage is no different. Polanski's regard for personal voice resonates here, despite the extremities of the characters. Though this might be a new playing field for director, the storyline itself holds true to Polanski's style of individual character emphasis.

Some have already compared Carnage to other films, such as Mike Nichols' Closer because that story intimately revolves around four characters and Richard Linklater's Tape because the entire film takes place in a single motel room. Although neither of them really are fair comparisons in terms of story or genre. Carnage actually mirrors one of his very early Polish films Nóż w wodzie (Knife in the Water), where the same sort of minimalist focus is made on a few central characters foregoing interpersonal rivalry and tension. This kind of intimacy both on screen and with the director's approach, couldn't have been better paired. A different director might have fumbled over the prospects of confined spaces and so few characters, but not Polanski. We have seen precisely this sort of insular attention and urban alienation before in many of his prior films, including Repulsion, The Tenant, and of course Rosemary's Baby. At the film's North American debut at the New York Film Festival, event director Richard Pena probably best summarized both Carnage and Polanksi in his introduction, "(He's) a poet of small spaces … in just a couple of rooms, he can conjure up an entire world, an entire society."

Some of Polanski's prior films that were originally stage plays include Ariel Dorfman's Death and the Maiden which featured Ben Kingsley and Sigourney Weaver, and Shakespeare's tragedy about the price of ambition, MacBeth with Jon Finch in the title role. So he is long versed in the tactics of stage to screen adaptation. And more often than not, Polanski has had a hand in writing the scripts for the movies he directs. All too is true of Carnage. He collaborated with playwright Yasmina Reza while in Switzerland, to faithfully bring her one-act play "Le Dieu du Carnage" to the Silver Screen. Perhaps, the fact that he himself was under house arrest at the time contributed to the insights of the confined setting. Although Raza's play had originated in Zürich back in 2006, it is not the version that most people are familiar with. After a successful run in Paris, Academy Award Winner* Christopher Hampton had translated the French play for English-speaking audiences which had a stint in London and then New York. The Broadway rendition brought together a stellar quartet of actors: James Gandolfini, Marcia Gay Harden, Jeff Daniels and Hope Davis. Each of whom garnered Tony Award nominations for their performances, with Harden winning for Best Leading Actress, and the overall production winning for Best Play and Best Direction. So to say the least, there is naturally a certain amount of expectation for the film version.

At first glace, the two couples seemingly couldn't be any more different than night and day. The Cowan's are your a-typical, white collar, corporate workaholics, while the Longstreets are the more artistic, creative types who work for themselves. What makes these two couples so intriguing are not so much the ways that they are different, but rather the ways they are similar. As the story progresses, we are exposed to more and more of the back story of each of these characters. There is a dynamic that evolves between the four of them. First as the two couples, then as women and men, and eventually as four complete irrationals at each other's necks. We can revel in the idea of knowing that even the most ideal of couples have their differences.

From the very beginning, Penelope Longstreet is clearly the most offended by the fight between their sons and really is the first instigator among them. The character herself takes bleeding-heart liberal to a whole other level. Such is prevalent long before she flies of her emotional rocker about various superficialities like word choices and meaningless social ideals. I physically wanted to slap her on more than one occasion and if she were my wife I'd have put her out long before any hamster. Jodi Foster's performance as Penelope is both overdone and overrated. She doesn't convey Penelope's inner neurosis enough by the sarcastic phrases alone, so she consistently exaggerates her facial expressions to compensate. Her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her skull several times. This really isn't that surprising considering Foster's recent slew of bad so-called thrillers (Panic Room, Flightplan, The Brave One, etc). She really hasn't done anything particularly outstanding since Nell, which was nearly two decades ago. Polanski's cinematic eye may be partially to blame, since there are way too many up-close-and-personal shots of her emotional outbursts. This wouldn't be at all unusual, if she was less contrite and seemed more at ease with the dialog. You never quite believe what she is preaching about, be it Western societal standards or proper juvenile etiquette. Foster's Penelope just lacks genuine conviction. Forceful tears and irrational antics alone doesn't believably convey human sentiment.

John C. Reilly as "everyman" Michael Longstreet probably has the most thankless role of the lot. A working class man and token peacemaker, he tries his damnedest to be the supportive husband to a dominating wife and the good son to an anxiously ill mother who's about to undergo surgery. Michael, himself, is clearly a mama's boy who seemingly has been underscored by the women in his life since his own childhood. By humorously putting himself down as means to support his views, Michael seeks to conceal an inferiority complex behind an optimistic displacement that borders on Pollyanna-esque annoyance. Nonetheless, Reilly is a good fit here. He has great comedic timing and doesn't loose sight of his character in the dialog, unlike Foster. As an actor, Reilly is probably best known for playing aimless imbeciles (think Dale Doback in Step Brothers) or hapless authority figures like Officer Kurring in Magnolia. This is actually pretty unfortunate when you consider the range of roles Reilly has undertaken. His turn as the ever loyal and under-appreciated husband Amos Hart in Chicago garnered him an Academy Award nomination; justly so when you consider how many actors could iconize being a looser and put it to music. But because Reilly so frequently portrays these roles, it's not a breakthrough here in itself. Nonetheless, his astute ability to make otherwise docile situations comedic does add to the movie.

Let's talk about Kate. Much like Reilly, Kate Winslet's character Nancy Cowan plays second fiddle to her spouse. Despite having her own career and personal successes, she struggles with a precedence that their home and children are the domaine of the woman. Her situation brings about one of the more interesting topics of the film--sexual stereotypes. Winslet herself is right on par with her portrayal of this frustrated wife with her own set of ideals and opinions. She bounces back and forth between playing the understanding mother to the zealous self-righteous cynic. There are a few absurdities involving a hamster and a cell phone that bring her character to its peak, but nothing unusual for Winslet. Like Reilly, it's just Kate being Kate. She brings her usual high standard of performance to the table, but the character of Nancy is nothing out of the ordinary, nor is Winslet extraordinary really. When she played the repressed house wife in Todd Field's Little Children, that was extraordinary. Here, she is really nothing more than this frustrated career woman who is desperate for her husband's attention and involvement in more conventional ways.

As corporate attorney Alan Cowan, Waltz unsuspectingly steals the show right out from all his counterparts. At first, Alan seems like he is just there because his wife is forcing him to and you don't think much of him. He starts off subtly in the back seat of things and finagles his way under everyone else's skin, to include the audience. He is constantly taking cell phone calls from his office amidst active conversations, which include when he himself is the one speaking. As the storyline progresses and the other characters come out of their skin, it is Alan who underscores all the main themes. Considering how everyone else in the room has breeched the boundaries of social politeness, it is surprising that it's the money-grubbing lawyer who is the one putting things into perspective. I was pleasantly surprised by Waltz because he just might have performed this role better than it was previously done on stage. He fits into this character so well; it's more than just his air or a concealed accent. His take on this despicable lawyer who consistently represents the interests of practicality above so-called morals, is the guy you love to hate. To the same extent that Foster failed to live up to the standards set forth by Marcia Gay Harden, so too does Waltz outdo Jeff Daniels. Of the four of these actors, it is Christoph Waltz whom deserves the most praise. Just as Alan advises to his work associate in this film, Waltz "goes for the jugular" and makes a killing.

Adaptations are always a difficult medium to produce and even more so to judge. It's not necessarily fair to compare a rendition based upon the ideals set forth by the original. But it is almost unavoidable not to. Some of the more noticeable differences include a change in Alan's endearments for his wife from "woof-woof" to "doodle", the character's first and last names which were perviously Alan & Annette Raleigh and Michael & Veronica Novak, and most obviously the expanded set that extends beyond just the living room. These may seem like insignificant alterations in the scheme of things, but the visuals have tainted the plot development to a certain extent. Polanski and Reza's script does remain true to the core themes, but the film itself doesn't have the same impact as the stage version. Much of this has to do with the sense of minimalism that was capitalized upon in the play becomes lost in the sprawling effects of the setting. The very views from the Longstreet's windows, the kitchen, the bathroom, the hallways, the elevator all extract from this sense of confinement that was so brilliantly reinforced on stage. Unfortunately, this also takes away from the effects of the dialog and in turn, the overall film itself.

The confinement to the apartment itself, drives the whole concept behind this story. There were several moments where the Cowan's are on the verge of leaving but fail to. This allusion is frustrating within itself. Just when you think they are going to escape, their coats are on and they're in front of the elevator, some other issue is brought about, and they are right back in the center of the Longstreet's social abyss. Because the play didn't do this visually, it is clear that it was a tactical choice by the director. Whether or not it was a wise one, is up to the viewer. Film.com critic Laremy Legel justly criticized Polanski that "The methods employed to keep everyone in the same room, and to keep the plot together, are not as realistic.." However, it is precisely these outlandish circumstances that make up a good satire piece. The very fact that these couples can't seem to say goodbye is in itself hilarious. So to reiterate Legel's perspective, "Once you accept (that) they're gonna be in the apparent, the film gets better."  Not evidence enough, if you ask me.

Rating: ★ ★ 1/2
Bottom Line: A decent rendition of the play and entertaining in its own right. But aside from a stellar performance by Waltz and despite Polanski's best efforts, it's nothing really that spectacular. 


Original Score by Alexandre Desplat

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