The acting marathon is adroitly blocked and paced by Polanski and impeccably shot by Pawel Edelman.

Brief, brutal and barmy.

Where previously we felt as trapped in Polanski's apartments as his characters, in Carnage we only ever peek in through the window.

The actors seem to have fun, particularly Foster, working against type as the thoroughly unlikable Penelope. But "Carnage" isn't nearly as bloody as it thinks it is.

What are supposed to be transgressive observations about the holy state of parenthood and matrimony instead come across as self-satisfied and shallow as the pieties Reza intends to puncture.

If we grant that "Carnage" is a low-impact exercise in stripping away the social veneer, it's nonetheless brisk and enjoyable.

"Carnage" is just another in a long line of improbable movie depictions of New York as seen in "Sex and the City" and other such drivel.

The funniest movie I saw last year. A short, tart, altogether delectable slice of misanthropy.

While the film, at a staggering and quick 80 minute runtime, plays exceedingly well off the energy of the performers, the downfall ultimately lies in a "loss of steam" vigor that is evident by picture's end.

Few recent movies have been this perceptive about such immediate human conflicts, much less this funny.

Running a mere 80 minutes, "Carnage" still feels longer than it should.

Statically filmed by Polanski the film version lacks punch and zest.