Take two theories on opposite ends of the political spectrum: Marxism and libertarianism. Marxism starts out with a truism: capitalism tends to exploit workers. But it then uses that fact to explain all of human history and prescribe a grand vision for a brighter future. Libertarianism also starts out with a truism: power tends to corrupt. But it then concludes that government is the source of many, if not most, of society's ills.
These ideas focus too heavily on one aspect of the human experience to explain it satisfactorily. Capitalism is exploitative, but it also happens to be the most efficient way to meet most of our basic material needs. Power does corrupt, but government is capable of doing great good, far more than individuals would on their own.
"Carnage" starts out with another truth: people are animals. Using that fact, it argues that we are all vicious and cruel, just waiting for an opportunity to attack one another. If this doesn't seem far-fetched to you, "Carnage" will spend 80 minutes unintentionally demonstrating why it is.
It's a shame, because the movie starts out promisingly. One 11-year-old boy bludgeons another with a stick on a playground. Their two sets of parents meet to figure out how they should reconcile.
At first, "Carnage" plays out like a black comedy in the mold of the British version of "The Office." These are people with little in common who have a dispute to settle. Naturally, things are very awkward, with plenty of stilted pleasantries and conciliatory gestures.
For most people, that would be as far as things would go. Partly because they are concerned for others: they don't want to be unjustly cruel. And partly because they are concerned for themselves: they don't want embarrassment. Besides, they've got better things to do.
But the characters in "Carnage" don't have anything better to do, as is made clear by the increasingly unbelievable reasons that these two couples remain in each other's company over the course of an afternoon.
And as that afternoon drags on, they become unbearable monsters. The father of the victim morphs from a genial compromiser to a racist who hates his family. The mother of the attacker becomes a vindictive bitch after a few sips of Scotch, in the great Hollywood tradition of characters who become stoned two minutes after imbibing one stiff drink. The mother of the victim is writing a book on Darfur, but naturally she's only doing it to satisfy her own ego. (She's also played by Jodie Foster, whose neck muscles practically pop off the screen by the end of her over-the-top performance.)
And then there's the father of the attacker, the only character who comes close to ringing true. That's partly because he's played by the terrific Christoph Waltz. But it's also because there really are people like this guy: smarmy corporate assholes who could care less about anyone else.
Still, even though people like him exist, and even though we've all got a very healthy selfish streak, that's no reason to assume we're all merely animals waiting to claw one another's eyes out. Things are a lot more, well, complicated.
