God Of Carnage puts its angst where its mouth is

In the early 1970s, PBS, that bastion of civilized television, gave us the first reality show, a documentary that followed "An American Family," the Louds, as the mother asked her philandering husband for a divorce. The heated and painful scene unfolded in their living room, as we watched uncomfortably from ours.

God of Carnage, running through June 5 at George Street Playhouse, delivers us to another American living room as two families meet to duke it out. This show may be making theatrical history, with the ultimate in Method bathroom humor -- a comedy with no holds barred.

The regular George Street stage has been set back a few feet, perhaps to buffer the audience from the volcano about to erupt. Set designer James Youmans stages an immense collage of ordinary domestic trappings -- the backs of chairs, a fireplace grill, a picture frame -- as dark, menacing objects, looming war-like over a very pristine white living room of art books, tulips, and soft couches. The visual changes of mood are provided by lighting designer Joe Saint, with a few surprises along the way.

Written by French playwright Yasmina Reza and performed first in Switzerland in 2006, God of Carnage came to Broadway in 2009, where it won the Tony award for Best Play. The action begins with an undercurrent of ill will brewing as Veronica and Michael Novack, and Annette and Alan Raleigh, meet to calmly discuss a playground brawl between their 11-year-olds.

Henry Raleigh knocked out two of Benjamin Novack's incisors with a stick because he is not allowed to join Ben's gang.

Played by Betsy Aidem, Veronica is an arty type a la Mother Earth. She's writing a book about the tragic descent of Darfur, where one race tries to wipe out another. She is also passionate about art history and large coffee table books litter the red carpet floor in tasteful piles. "We believe in the power of culture," she tells the ultra-rich Raleighs.

Although she is the one who most advocates for the powers of civilization, one of the artists Veronica most admires is Francis Bacon, most known for his upsettingly raw screams and nightmarish paintings of inner angst. Her unrelenting harangues about the need for Henry's need to apologize give Aiden the chance to show off her vocal range and flailing arms.

Michael, her husband, is not quite as artsy: a housewares salesman more interested in fondue pots, locks for your door, his ailing mother and a cynical view of the futility of life. Christopher Curry is resigned but sinister; the husband who "liberates" the children's hamster Nibbles from his cage into a deserted Brooklyn street in the dead of night.

Curry's looming face and menacing gait give him just the dour delivery needed as the couples discuss the bad behavior of their sons -- and their own behaviors, and marriages, soon begin to unravel at a fast pace. Alan Raleigh (James Ludwig), a high powered corporate lawyer and self-described "Neanderthal," connects with Veronica as the couples move from tea to rum. His wife Annette (Ann Harada) takes a back seat to Alan, until 70 minutes in she literally steals the show. Harada is a breath of fresh air on stage, at first, as she transforms from the Little Woman to a barfing bull.

Director David Saint orchestrates the nonstop madness on stage, keeps the play moving at a fast pace, and has the ability to have characters form and break bonds quickly. Husbands against wives, couple against couple, and even single actor against rest of cast, pivot the action until we realize that civilization has swallowed all of us whole.

God of Carnage is an evening of entertainment, clever visual gags, and insights into our dark domestic cores . . . only Nibbles gets to escape.