God of Carnage

by Dalia Wolfson

God of Carnage, by Yasmina Reza, reveals the violence and animal instincts of daily, mundane encounters in the living room in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn. Eleven year-old Benjamin, armed with a stick, hit his peer Henry, knocking out two teeth. This incident brings their parents – Veronica and Michael, Annette and Alan – to discuss the next step in educating and disciplining their sons. The fast-paced 90-minute play tracks the unraveling of a polite discussion into a safari of sorts, with the two couples’ attacking each other and themselves as their social barriers crumble.

God of Carnage is particularly enjoyable because of Matthew Warchus’ directorial talent. The characters rearrange themselves throughout the play, sitting in different seats, collapsing on couches, strolling around the stage and, in the final moments, all are found to be in states of disarray with their knees on the floor – a sort of descent of man to the most primitive, crawling form of mobility. The set is also used masterfully, so that each prop – be it yellow cleaning gloves, white tulips or a limited-edition Kokoschka art book – is not merely a stage piece, but an object that merits interaction and attention. The roles of the characters conjure up a nice balance: one couple consists of an art history teacher and a department store owner who gleefully discusses toilet fittings, while the other pair includes a lawyer and a job in wealth management. The socioeconomic differences in the two sets of parents are outlined by their speech and clothing and, eventually, verbalization of values through the dialogue.

The root “carn” (flesh ) in Latin reveals itself in many forms: carnage, carnal desire, reincarnation and other visceral, instinctual words. These concepts are introduced throughout the play, placed as focal points in the struggle between high society’s discipline (upheld by Veronica, the art history teacher who respects sophistication) and raw, animalistic behavior (represented by Michael, the ‘neanderthal’ who settles for a “second rate” lifestyle). While a philosophical thread runs through the performance, God of Carnage skirts around this conflict with a generous dose of physical humor and a rapid hour-and-a-half long duration that leaves the audience feeling that somehow, the issues have not been fully fleshed out.

God of Carnage illuminates the tension between the primitive and the civilized, and ultimately this play is rather relevant to our generation; the slow, painstaking process of maturity is a concept that teens encounter in our daily existence. God of Carnage may not explore these issues to a point of satisfaction, but is worth seeing because it does raise vital questions about human nature that are pertinent to adolescents as they attempt to find a balance in this helter-skelter world.

TICKETS: $26.50 student rush • Bernard B Jacobs Theatre, 242 W. 45th St.

Memphis

By Dalia Wolfson

What if...you weren’t heard?

Do you remember a time when the radio ruled and TV hadn’t taken over? No? Me, neither, but Memphis will take you back through a whirlwind of rock ‘n roll music, when waves of sound were changing the nation. Set in the 1950’s, Memphis tells the story and the song of black music making its way into the mainstream, granting its performers greater acceptance through their melodies.

The musical centers around a flabby-tongued white disc jockey who publicizes and falls in love with a black singer struggling to be heard. Throughout the streets, kitchens and radio stations of Memphis, the two lovers struggle with the identity of their relationship as it pivots between racism, career opportunities and the society at large. 

Memphis proves music to be a unifying, transcendent medium. Black music—blues on fast-forward and gospels on high intensity—is absorbed by  the white population, melting the core of racism as the purity of human sounds is heard on the radio.

Memphis evokes an era not too far away, so we can appreciate its music and reexamine our own prejudices. This musical is especially relevant for teenagers, because the show focuses on young peoples’ ability to bring about a revolution—white teenagers are seen dancing with black teenagers, ignoring their parents’ discriminatory attitudes. Memphis regards youth as a source of dynamic, positive change, and as a teenager I find this outlook inspiring and empowering.

HOW TO SEE THE SHOW: $26.50 student rush • Shubert Theatre, 225 W. 44th St.

Our Town

by Dalia Wolfson

When you first come to the Barrow Street Theater, it seems a little shabby. But just wait a while, until the lights go down, and a man with bright, searching eyes enters the room. He is the Stage Manager (a character, not tech person) and he holds a glowing cell phone. You've probably already extinguished yours, but sit quietly and wait for him to talk, not into the phone, but to you.  Because once the Stage Manager begins to speak, he will conjure up a whole county within several square feet. Grover's Corners of the early twentieth century will materialize in front of your eyes, filling the theater, with pulsating air.

The Stage Manager directs the audience through the childhood, adolescence, and brief adulthood and marriage of Emily Webb and George Gibbs. Their relationship is sweet, like a sort of simple sugar, with a proposal over cherry soda. Eventually, that sugar of life will heat up, turn to caramel, and finally to carbon ashes.

The final act, in particular, brings an added dimension to the story (including a stunning surprise), making the audience reconsider life and the monotony of daily routines. Playwright Thorton Wilder reminds us that, too often, we don't pay attention to “clocks ticking...and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths...and sleeping and waking up.” The audience is forced to realize that we have an obligation to truly appreciate the beauty of this water, that bird and the sound of heliotrope blossoms in the springtime.

We emerge from the theatre with a new breath. Sigh softly for the comfortable, unconscious world of Grover's Corners, summoned and snapped shut by the Stage Manager's careful words. Director David Cromer has created a masterpiece out of Wilder's script, molding the characters, settings and speech into a little microcosm that provides a patch of warmth on a cold autumn evening.

So when it is time to leave this town and enter the next one, our planet, make sure you're not just acting. For Pete's sake, live, breathe and be Wilder. Now more than ever, the earth needs an encore. 

HOW TO SEE THE SHOW: $20 student rush. Barrow Street Theatre, 27 Barrow St.