Cameron says…
If the evidence on display at the Palace Theatre is any indication, P. T. Barnum’s maxim that a sucker is born every minute remains true. Audiences are flocking to see some of their favorite television stars tread the boards in a desultory revival of Glengarry Glen Ross – and paying up to $800 a ticket for their privilege. Too bad this latest outing is about as bootless as the fictional plots of Florida land that David Mamet’s shyster salesman try to offload on their unsuspecting marks.

Staged with slack rhythms by the playwright-turned-director Patrick Marber (Closer, Leopoldstadt), this Glengarry lacks the essential kineticism needed to pull off Mamet’s unscrupulous hat trick. Take the famous first-act scene where the alpha-dog speculator Richard Roma – here embodied by recent Oscar and Emmy winner Kieran Culkin – exploits the weaknesses of his chosen prey, James Lingk (an appropriately pathetic John Pirruccello). Charming and irascible on the small screen, Culkin doesn’t project the seductiveness, hauteur, or magnetism needed to make Roma a dangerous but irresistible figure. It’s one of the production’s many deficits.

Others include the miscasting of Bob Odenkirk, an undeniably skillful performer, as the meek Shelly Levine. He’s far too sharp and spry to channel the pathos of this broken man, and he looks a good twenty years younger than his co-star Michael McKean, playing the frustrated George Aaronow. (McKean, a superb stage actor, should really be playing Shelly.) The great comedian Bill Burr should be ideal as the loudmouth Dave Moss, but his natural charisma doesn’t easily translate to a legitimate stage role.

Marber’s listless production captures neither the ruthless greed of some salesmen or the quiet desperation of others. At times, he leans into Mamet speed for dialogue delivery, but the result is merely a feat of memorization rather than a truly electric exchange between characters. At other times, long lighting cues – and what feel like designated applause breaks – stop the show cold. (The lighting design is by Jen Schriever.) The smoldering intimacy of Mamet’s script drowns in the cavernous Palace, and Scott Pask’s scenic design strikes out in both acts: the Chinese restaurant looks luxe rather than seedy, the ransacked office barely upturned. The costumes, also by Pask, seem too slick for this level of small-time cons.

Although Mamet’s personal politics have grown increasingly unpalatable, Glengarry remains an unimpeachable work of contemporary drama – and its portrait of the alluring sway of confidence men speaks to the current American moment in resonant ways.  Too bad this revival comes across as an idea-free cash grab. Its greatest swindle occurs not on stage but when you turn over your credit card at the box office.

David says…
I wish I could disagree, Cameron, but I can’t. This revival of Glengarry is slack and often tension-free, particular in the (far more difficult) second act. Director Patrick Marber (an imported Brit for this very American play – why??) is clueless, delivering a production that fails to hit crucial storytelling points. Several actors would have been better if cast differently. Bob Odenkirk should be Ricky, not Shelly – Michael McKean Shelly, not Aranov (though as it is, McKean delivers the most satisfying performance). Kieran Culkin might be effective as Williamson, the office manager, where his sardonic-but-boyish affect could make an impact, but despite some charm he’s a real misfit as Ricky.

But he’s not alone in missing the point. Mostly the actors here seem to be playing some received wisdom about how to do Mamet – but volleys of fast talk aren’t the same as limning a dramatic arc. I wondered if the audience would even know what was going on, had they not so obviously seen the movie. And of course, there’s the problem of the Palace – a ludicrous misfit for this play. The restaurant set in the first act looks like the lobby of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.

In every sense, this feels like a show that’s lost in a large void.

Photo Credit: Emilio Madrid