Gentlemen don’t prefer blondes in Young Adult, a scabrous black comedy about a faded beauty queen who clings on to the past to avoid acknowledging the loneliness and despair that hang over her like cheap perfume. Penned by Diablo Cody, the film reunites the Oscar-winning screenwriter with director Jason Reitman following their collaboration on Juno.

This is a very different proposition: the exuberance and sassy wit of the characters in the earlier film has mouldered into weariness and cynicism here, embodied by a conniving anti-heroine who attempts to woo back her married high school sweetheart.

Charlize Theron fearlessly sinks her teeth into the lead role, shedding her image as a glamour puss to embrace the questionable hygiene of a woman whose exercise regime comprises a quick burst on a video game fitness program. Cody doesn’t sugar-coat this bitter pill: the protagonist is deeply unlikeable and, by the end, it’s debatable if she has learned anything from her bid to destroy the lives of decent folk.

Mavis Gary (Theron) is a mediocre writer who lives in Minneapolis and has seen the popularity of her Waverly Prep novels for young adults wane. Desperate for creative inspiration for the final book in the series, Mavis is distracted by an email from old boyfriend Buddy Slade (Patrick Wilson) and his wife Beth (Elizabeth Reaser) announcing the birth of their daughter. Convinced that this is a sign that she should win back Buddy, Mavis travels to her hometown of Mercury, where she flirts outrageously with her former beau but he appears completely oblivious to the shortness of her skirt.

Another old class mate, Matt Freehauf (Patton Oswalt), witnesses Mavis in action and he becomes her unwitting accomplice to wooing Buddy away from his wife and child.

Young Adult is distinguished by a stand-out performance from Theron, who relishes the ugliness of her character and doesn’t try to soften Mavis’s jagged edges.

Oswalt is an appealing and quirky sidekick and Wilson flashes a winning smile as the golden boy who seems naive to the destruction being wrought around his happy home.

Colourful supporting performances include Jill Eikenberry as Mavis’s mother, who has happy memories of her daughter’s failed attempt to walk down the aisle, cooing, “The wedding wasn’t a failure. Remember the tiramisu!”

Cody’s script eschews sentimentality and is peppered with some acidic one-liners. Her determination to avoid convention catches the eye but doesn’t quite seduce the heart.

Alan Cowan (Christoph Waltz) and his wife Nancy (Kate Winslet) visit the apartment of Michael and Penelope Longstreet (John C Reilly, Jodie Foster) to apologise for their son Zachary, who has hit the Longstreets’ son Ethan in the face with a stick in Roman Polanski’s Carnage. As a result, poor Ethan has two broken incisors, nerve damage and swelling to his upper lip. The meeting is intended to be brief and courteous and Alan tries to speed along proceedings by candidly and brusquely admitting, “Our son is a maniac. If you hope he’ll suddenly and spontaneously get all apologetic, you’re dreaming.”

As the conversation ebbs and flows, tensions become evident until poor Nancy is taken ill and spoils Penelope’s prized Kokoschka art catalogue. Once the guests return to the sitting room, verbal exchanges become increasingly terse and heated until all sense of decorum disintegrates and the couples lash out just like their boys.

Carnage lives up to its title, decimating the characters’ facades of politeness and charm as collective tempers fray. Waltz is thoroughly obnoxious as the corporate lawyer, who is constantly rude to his hosts by taking urgent calls on his mobile phone, while Winslet degenerates from simpering peacemaker into cackling harpy.

Foster and Reilly are equally strong, turning on each other about the sensitive issue of their nine-year-old daughter’s pet hamster. Polanski allows the machine-gun dialogue to dictate the rhythm of the film.