Yasmina Reza’s God of Carnage is justifiably one of the most buzzworthy plays of the past decade, a status it attained partly as a result of an acclaimed production on Broadway starring James Gandolfini and Jeff Daniels—and the 2011 Roman Polanski film adaptation. But besides star power and Reza’s intricate writing, its popularity can also be attributed to an easy marketing sell: two couples meet to discuss a physical altercation between their two 11-year-old sons. Simply imagining the sparks to ensue practically causes ticket money to fly out of your hands.

That’s especially true for theatregoers who see themselves directly reflected in the characters in Reza’s script. These two couples consider themselves highly civilized. Alan and Annette (he’s a high-powered lawyer and she’s in wealth management) find their civilization in money, while Michael and Veronica (he’s a small-business owner and she’s a writer and bookstore clerk) find theirs in an appreciation of culture and global issues. Both pairs would likely make an effort to see a new hot play on Broadway that critics are raving about.

It’s brilliant, then, that Reza forces audience members to witness what could be their own decline into barbarism and chaos. While the meeting appears to have gone smoothly and relatively painlessly at first (we enter the play as, we think, the two couples’ business is coming to an end), the characters eventually come apart at the seams in a dazzling devolution of language, composure, sobriety, and, eventually, compassion. Unexpected alliances build and break down until all four characters are left facing their own hypocrisies as parents, and people. After 90 minutes of endless arguing, Michael’s concluding line—”What do we know?”—should hit the audience as hard as it hits his contrarian companions.

Of course, that final punch will land harder if the build-up has been slow and dramatic. Joel Greenberg’s production with Studio 180 and Mirvish Productions (it’s part of the second Off-Mirvish Series) kicks it off a little too early. He and the cast play up the comedic side of the script, turning these characters into caricatures while they should still be putting on more civilized airs. Sarah Orenstein as Annette is best able to straddle her need to present herself well while letting her true self erupt (at one point, literally) but the others, particularly Linda Kash as Veronica, slide too far into childish stomping and tempter tantrums.

What doesn’t help matters is John Thompson’s red, white, and black set. Not only does it seem more like an austere modern-art museum than a humble family home in Brooklyn, it’s just unpleasant to look at.

This production gets the laughs it goes for, but misses out on the brutal self-reflection that we imagine Reza intended. It’s not called God of Chuckles for a reason.

What else is happening:

Today In Theatre at Panasonic Theatre