Performing Arts

LONDON – There is a moment in The God of Carnage when Ralph Fiennes is prancing about the stage – yes, the same actor who eerily defined a Nazi goon in Schindler's List – and the husky-voiced Janet McTeer is announcing that "we're eccentric enough to believe in the pacifying influence of art."

The dark comedy in which both excel is playing now in London's West End. It has been translated into English from its original French. Its author, Yasmina Reza, has actually complained about the seriousness of her plays being undermined by the laughter they provoke.

But The God of Carnage symbolizes all that's wonderful and liberating about London theater and why Americans love to come here. The God of Carnage is playing only here, which is also true of the megamusicals The Lord of the Rings and Dirty Dancing, both of which will eventually play Dallas.

"You will never see anything like it," Michael A. Jenkins, president and managing director of the Dallas Summer Musicals, says of The Lord of the Rings, a $28 million extravaganza that incorporates into one three-hour production, with two intermissions, all three books of the J.R.R. Tolkien saga, plus music.

The Dallas Summer Musicals and Mr. Jenkins' partnership, Bartner/Jenkins Entertainment, are major investors in The Lord of the Rings and the London production of Gone With the Wind, both of which he plans to bring to the Music Hall at Fair Park. The Lord of the Rings will close in London in July, then go to Germany.

Neither The God of Carnage nor The Lord of the Rings has made it to New York, and no future dates have been set. (The latter requires such a big stage, 35 feet by 75 feet, that no Broadway house can accommodate the show at this time, says Mr. Jenkins. But the Music Hall can.)

London theater thrives because the quality and range of what it offers is extraordinary, not to mention daring and refreshingly international.

British screen stars share a loyalty to the footlights of their native land that simply isn't matched by actors in New York or Hollywood. Oscar winner Judi Dench is a frequent presence on West End stages and will appear here in Yukio Mishima's Madame de Sade next spring. Mr. Fiennes will leave the Gielgud Theatre and The God of Carnage, only to reappear as Oedipus in October at the National Theatre. Oscar winner Jeremy Irons is playing at the National in Never So Good.

"Never so good" pretty much sums up London theater these days. When it comes to New York, money talks, says Mr. Jenkins, who contends that despite the 2-for-1 dominance of the British pound over the dollar these days, London remains a much better bargain for theatrical financiers.

"From a business perspective," he says, "New York has 17 unions, London has eight. So, even with the dollar exchange, our groups can open shows for less money in London, tweak them, work on them, see if they work. If they do work, we can transfer them to New York or take them on the road. If they don't work, we still lose less money."

A shining example, he says, is the comedy Boeing Boeing, in which Bartner/Jenkins Entertainment invested heavily. A major hit in London, the show opens April 19 on Broadway.

In London, Mr. Jenkins has partnered with lead producer Kevin Wallace to stage The Lord of the Rings, which has drawn nearly a half-million people since opening last May, when it received rave reviews. "Even if you don't understand or like or follow The Lord of the Rings," says Mr. Jenkins, "you'll have no trouble following this. It's more of a spectacle than a show."

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, now owned by composer Andrew Lloyd Webber, has a history going back to 1663, when its inaugural space was built by Thomas Killigrew, who received a patent from King Charles II. These days, the theater is cobwebbed with vines and branches that form the world of Middle Earth, where hobbits, elves, Ents, dwarves and, of course, brave men and women roam together. The second intermission features a cluster of terrifying Orcs – minions of the devilish Sauron – rampaging the aisles, as the audience screams.

There's also a lot of screaming among those who queue up for Dirty Dancing, which London critics sniff at for being too corny. But try getting a ticket to it. As Mr. Jenkins says – and yes, he plans to bring it to Dallas as soon as possible – "It's very colorful, very energetic and extremely exciting. It will wear you out looking at it. You'll be exhausted. But you'll have more fun than you ever could have imagined."

At a recent Friday matinee, that was precisely the case. Performing the role of Johnny Castle, played by Patrick Swayze in the 1987 movie, was hunkish understudy Richard Lawrence, who previously distinguished himself in the Broadway version of Debbie Does Dallas the Musical.

He danced like Fred Astaire with female lead Sarah Manton, who in playing Frances "Baby" Houseman looms as the theatrical clone of Jennifer Grey, who appeared opposite Mr. Swayze. When Mr. Lawrence bellows the show's triumphant moment, "Nobody puts Baby in a corner!," you hear nothing but screams.

Dirty Dancing is decidedly American, with Australian and British actors wielding Yankee accents. The Lord of the Rings opened in Toronto but is now fiercely British. The God of Carnage, written in French, soars through a winning translation and a charismatic cast. And it's full of slapstick, with Tamsin Greig spending a big chunk of her performance (no pun intended) engaged in projectile vomiting.

The God of Carnage is about a couple who pays a visit to another husband and wife because their son has struck the other couple's boy in the head. By the time Ms. Greig's character announces that "an insult is a kind of assault," thus defending the perpetrator, not the victim, any pretense at "civilisation" (as the British spell it) is lost.

She and fellow "mum" Ms. McTeer, who earned an Oscar nomination for Tumbleweeds, square off in cashmere armor. The audience howls, seeing themselves in these absurd adults, who are no more mature than the punks they sired.

Self-righteous and hopelessly addicted to both cellphones and rum, they're no different from the pet hamster one of the dads dumps in the gutter. The poor thing is as hopeless out of the cage as it was inside it.

It is, of course, a symbol of the laughable fools onstage, who would all be better off by spending a therapeutic night catching a play at a West End theater.

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