Nick Freed and Bridgette Bassa in the New Jewish Theatre production of God of Carnage. Photo by Jon Gitchoff.
With God of Carnage, New Jewish Theatre (NJT) starts summer with a bang, frustrated stomping and a lot of shouting. Performed straight through as a 90-minute single act with no intermission, the production is a deliciously messy and dark dramedy that leaves audiences plenty of food for thought. It’s spicy, it’s salty, but it goes down smooth—unlike a certain clafouti.
God of Carnage was originally written in French by Yasmina Reza, a Paris-based author and playwright with Persian and Jewish ancestry. The play is deceptively low-concept and it all takes place in a single scene, which makes it easy to produce and adapt. The key ingredient is the cast; you need people who are likably unlikeable, with a thin veneer of civility that masks barely concealed angst and outrage. God of Carnage was translated into English by Christopher Hampton and it debuted on Broadway in March 2009 with James Gandolfini (best known for playing Tony Soprano) in the cast. In 2011, it was adapted into a film (titled Carnage) starring Kate Winslet, John C. Reilly, Jodie Foster, and Christoph Waltz. Its universal themes and savage social critique ensured its popularity on both sides of the Atlantic.
NJT cleverly connects each of its productions to Jewish history, values, or philosophy. In some past productions, this connection is explicit. For instance, their Fall 2025 staging of The Wanderers focused on the different challenges faced by Hasidic and secular Jews in marriage and parenthood. For God of Carnage, the connection is explored thematically. In the program, Rabbi Elizabeth Hersh of Temple Emanuel frames the narrative through the concepts of yetzer hatov (the impulse toward good) and yetzer hara (the pull toward self-interest). These competing impulses drive the conflict of this domestic drama.
The story takes place in the quaintly appointed living room of Michael and Veronica Novak. The set is decorated with abstract contemporary art and out-of-print, collectible art books, which serve as tokens of the intellectual life Veronica attempts to curate for her family. Veronica is carefully drafting a statement about an “incident” involving her son, Henry, and a boy named Benjamin. Benjamin hit Henry with a stick and broke two of his incisors. Ben’s parents, Alan and Anette Raleigh, are there to express sympathy and ask for forgiveness—at least, that was the plan. Alan, a high-powered attorney, is a fierce defender of his clients but is surprisingly neutral on the subject of his son.
Veronica (Christina Rios) initiates the meeting by making a passive-aggressive show of compassion for both boys while carefully framing the discussion to establish who she believes is at fault. Rios plays her as a “tiny tiger,” presenting Veronica’s naive belief in civilization with sincerity, which keeps the character from becoming a stereotype of a self-righteous liberal scold.
Her husband, Michael, is portrayed by Joel Moses, a return performer from NJT’s 2025 productions of The Wanderers and The Heidi Chronicles. Michael is a home hardware salesman who comes across as neurotic and anxious about his masculinity. While he starts as a peacemaker, he eventually dismisses both children as “little bastards” and insists that beatings and broken teeth are a normal part of growing up.
Nic Freed plays Alan—who represents pharmaceutical companies and war criminals—as an amoral careerist. He is disengaged from the whole affair, participating as a begrudging favor to his wife, and his frequent phone calls spark exasperation from his co-stars.
Annette (Bridgette Bassa) appears resigned to the fact that her husband views child-rearing as women’s work and marriage as a transaction. Bassa delivers a standout gross-out comedy moment that derails the conversation, and she later inflicts more damage to Alan’s phone than a bag of rice can mend.
As the evening progresses, the power dynamics shift. The standoff between the Novaks and the Raleighs becomes a battle of the sexes. The adults abandon their enlightened pretense and descend into verbal aggression, physical violence, and property damage. Their initial concern for their children evaporates entirely. The play functions as a critique of the perceived superiority of Western culture; everything from the death of a hamster to African genocide is waved off by the men as “it is what it is.”
NJT operates a black box theater that transforms its seating arrangement with every production. For this show, the audience is placed uncomfortably close to the action. Because the play relies heavily on voyeuristic tension, you may find yourself looking over the actors’ heads instead of making eye contact as the scenes get intensely personal.
NJT’s God of Carnage is a tight ensemble comedy and an exercise in controlled chaos. The performers handle nonstop dialogue and pratfalls with skill, delivering a relatable domestic drama that successfully doubles as a philosophical clash between naive idealism and callous realism. | Rob Von Nordheim
Performances take place on Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, with one additional performance scheduled for Wednesday, June 17. Weekday shows begin at 7 PM, Saturday performances start at 4 PM, and Sunday shows begin at 2 PM. Tickets start at $30 and can be purchased at jccstl.com.
