Two couples were screaming and vomiting and throwing things at the New York Film Festival opening the other night.
Fortunately, that was all happening on-screen.
The feature attraction was Carnage, Roman Polanski‘s adaptation of God of Carnage, the Broadway hit comedy about grown people gathering to discuss their kids’ altercation and devolving into barbarians themselves.
It’s too soon to review anything except to say Polanski has mercifully not opened up the play in the way a lesser director, distrusting the material, would surely have done.
After the opening bit, he keeps the action squarely placed in the Brooklyn apartment (shot in Paris, since he can’t come to the U.S.).
And having seen Rosemary’s Baby about 100 times, I can attest to the knack Polanski has for making things cook inside an apartment building.
There’s lots of bantering and fighting as familial bonds start unraveling, a highlight coming when Kate Winslet‘s character loses it and screeches to Jodie Foster, “I wipe my ass with your humanity!”
And that wasn’t the end of the theatrics.
At the after-party, a young nebbish cornered me, begging me to tell him who was important in the room.
I thought that was sweet, until I remembered he’d done the same thing last year!
I promptly started vomiting and throwing things.