Director's Note

by Ben Galosi

I am quite fascinated by the dramatic works of Yasmina Reza. Her plays, often akin in size and structure, all seem to be drilling towards the existential core of human behavior and relationships. One could easily say that every play shares this function, but there is a brutal honesty and cosmic plangency to the French playwright’s work that has made it stand out in the global theatrical canon. Reza paints with broad thematic strokes, presenting immense and sweeping ideas through the most particular construction of circumstance—her plays begin with a single spark that quickly illuminates something much larger. The condensed and spare nature of her works create a sense of unflinching focus around her central specimens and the elements of human nature she believes they represent. In God Of Carnage, Reza’s quartet illuminates the human animal through the unsubtle stripping of social veneer and the complete unraveling of language. 

On the most obvious and potent level, the play is a metaphor for global peace relations, war, and the destruction of civilization as a whole. It examines how when language breaks down, the path toward political and social progress is blocked, eventually leading to the inevitable collapse of civilization. From the very first moments of the play, a breach in language creates a seemingly unconquerable barrier to progress. Through the following course of action, words are wielded as weaponry, vocabulary deteriorates, and eventually, language disappears altogether. Without this essential societal glue, our quartet of domestic diplomats break down into a state of full isolation. 

Apart from the epic sociopolitical themes, I am also interested in the character play of Carnage. Quite early on in our process, I think I asked the cast to only play this text as a play about four people who are deeply in pain. I still think that is resonant and important to mention now because I do believe this play and these characters are too often reduced by contemporary audiences and theatremakers. I pretty firmly believe that these four humans are driven by deep pain and isolation—just like all of us. The action of the play is a cataclysmic process of excavation that brings all of their suppressed guilt, insecurity, and pain to the surface. All of these feelings enjoy company, so they do whatever they need to find it. I have placed the action of this play in a metaphorical pit, a sunken place where we can cross the threshold of social conformity and these excavations can occur. 

We are living in an age of intense subjectivity. It seems to me that there are very few fundamental truths that all humans can agree on. Alternative facts and unshakable beliefs have become our language and our pain has become inexpressible—except through hate. Our ability to communicate has completely devolved and our reverence for the truth has dissipated. We can no longer deny that our civilization is on the path towards complete destruction, bringing about the most hostile future for those still to come. That is unfortunately what the play has to say. But I think that while Reza’s eventual declaration on the human condition is grim, she gives us a pleasant antidote: laughter. And I think laughter is empathy. And I think empathy is the only language we need to lessen our collective pain and maybe save the world.