Review: GOD OF CARNAGE at The Masque Theatre

There is something deliciously satisfying about watching supposedly civilised adults behave very badly — especially when they have gathered together to discuss the bad behaviour of their children.

Yasmina Reza’s God of Carnage, translated by Christopher Hampton, begins with two sets of parents attempting to deal reasonably and rationally with a playground incident involving their sons. But as the evening progresses, the veneer of civility begins to crack, exposing the prejudices, frustrations and less-than-admirable behaviour of the adults themselves. The result is a great evening of thought-provoking theatre that manages to be both sharply satirical and very funny.

The production marks the return of the Claremont Dramatic Society (CDS) to the Masque Theatre after several years away, and it is an impressive choice for a comeback. Director and CDS chair Bernie Jacobs describes the play as offering “serious intent softened with comedy”, and that balance is evident throughout the production.

The setting immediately establishes the contrast at the heart of the play. Richard Higgs’s excellent set design presents a stylish, sophisticated apartment, complete with distorted walls that subtly suggest that all is not quite as perfect as it appears. These are people who presumably like to think of themselves as cultured, reasonable and socially responsible — yet their lives, and their behaviour, prove considerably messier.

Jacobs clearly has a well-rehearsed cast on her hands. One of the production’s strengths is the way the awkward pauses and uncomfortable silences between people who simply do not know how to handle a situation are allowed to play out. Rather than rushing through these moments, the actors give them room to become increasingly uncomfortable — and increasingly funny.

And then, spectacularly, everything begins to fall apart.

What starts as a polite discussion about the children develops into an increasingly chaotic display of adult behaviour, involving vomiting, compulsive eating and drinking, aggression and physical attacks. The escalation is convincing because the production allows the characters to unravel gradually. Reza's play is particularly effective at exposing the hypocrisy of adults who expect children to behave better than they do themselves.

Jaime Uranovsky creates the character of Veronique Vallon with great competence. Initially desperate to be reasonable and determined that justice should be done for her injured son, Veronique attempts to maintain control of the situation. But as the evening progresses, that carefully constructed composure disintegrates, and Uranovsky embraces the character’s descent into crying, aggression and hysteria.

Landon McClure’s Michel Vallon initially appears to be the cool, calm and collected husband, but he too becomes increasingly unhinged. McClure handles the transition particularly well, escalating Michel’s loss of control until his increasingly comic behaviour becomes one of the evening’s pleasures.

Juliet Yates, as Annette Reille, makes excellent use of both facial expression and physicality. She begins as the contrite mother, apparently willing to acknowledge that her son has behaved badly, but gradually becomes defensive as the situation deteriorates. Yates communicates much of Annette’s internal battle through her reactions, making her eventual breakdown all the more entertaining.

And then there is Dave Waugh as Alain Reille — a character who is almost guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin. Waugh succeeds brilliantly in creating someone you really just want to punch in the face. His incessant phone calls are maddening, while his determined consumption of the pie provides one of the production’s funniest recurring moments. Waugh understands exactly how irritating Alain needs to be, without pushing the character beyond credibility.

What makes the production work particularly well is the connection between the four performers. There is a strong sense of ensemble acting, with each actor responding naturally to the others as the evening moves from restrained politeness to complete chaos. The build-up to the final stages feels credible because the unraveling happens incrementally rather than simply switching from calm to mayhem.

The play itself is a notorious challenge for four actors, with one living room, no interval and nowhere to hide. This production embraces that challenge successfully. Jacobs keeps the pace and tension moving while allowing the uncomfortable moments to breathe.

Ultimately, God of Carnage is not really about the children at all. It is about the adults who believe they are better equipped to judge and correct bad behaviour — while demonstrating, increasingly spectacularly, that they are every bit as capable of behaving badly themselves.

The satire is handled very well, and the production strikes an enjoyable balance between its darker observations about human behaviour and its broad physical comedy. There are plenty of laughs, but there is also enough beneath the surface to leave the audience thinking about the ways in which we justify our own behaviour while judging that of others.

A thoroughly enjoyable production, with strong ensemble work, excellent performances and a set that cleverly reflects the cracks beneath the polished surface.

God of Carnage runs at the Masque Theatre, Muizenberg, from 16–24 October 2026.

Venue: The Masque Theatre, 37 Main Road, Muizenberg 

Dates: 16–24 October 2026 

Times: Wed–Sat @ 19h30, Sat–Sun @ 14h30 

Tickets: R180 (R160 for pensioners and under 18s). Bookings through Quicket: https://www.quicket.co.za/events/390452-god-of-carnage/#/ 

Age guidance: PG rating – the play contains strong language

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