Before “Glengarry Glen Ross” begins, director Patrick Marber chose to project a set of glistening steak knives on the scrim at the Palace Theatre. In theory, this addition makes sense: David Mamet’s original 1983 Pulitzer Prize-winning tragicomedy follows real-estate agents who, while they’re not charming potential buyers, throw expletive-filled barbs at each other like sharp blades.
But, in the play, the steak knives are actually the second-rate prize for the top-earning salesman of the month, a mere runner-up to the first-place reward of a shiny Cadillac, projected later in the performance. Marber unintentionally creates more of a warning than a tone-setter — a warning that his revival, which opened on March 31, doesn’t rise above second place itself.
Not that you would ever call the play’s cast a second-rate one. Newly Oscar-winning actor Kieran Culkin, two-time Emmy winner Bob Odenkirk and Emmy-nominated comic Bill Burr lead the cast as three of the four salesmen competing for the biggest bucks. These modern stars fill the shoes of even bigger stars of the past: The acclaimed 1992 film version of this play had Al Pacino in the role Culkin stars in.
In the first act, we meet the four salesmen over the course of three conversations at a Chinese restaurant. Shelley Levene (Odenkirk), the first introduced, is at the bottom of the sales. Once successful, Shelley is currently stuck in what he calls a streak of bad luck, but what his boss, John Williamson (Donald Webber Jr.), calls incompetence.
The next scene of act one introduces Dave Moss (Burr) and George Aaronow (Michael McKean), two pals whose casual talk quickly turns into a robbery plan: Dave wants George to steal the high-quality leads — potential customers’ information — from John to sell them to a rival agency. The final salesman is the top-earner Richard “Ricky” Roma (Culkin), who coerces his client, the hapless James Lingk (John Pirruccello), into buying land by attacking his insecurities.
The entire first act and much of the second follows calculated persuasions. These coaxings start casual and comical, but slowly reveal the driven, even cruel methods the salesmen use to get what they want. But director Marber overemphasizes the comical and fails to dramatize their menacing actions. The cast also often struggles to make the leap. For example, Odenkirk is charming and talks fast at the top of his scene where he attempts to bribe John for the top leads but transitions jarringly, rather than naturally, to depressingly desperate when John refuses.
Culkin is the biggest disappointment of them all: He has charisma, sure, but Culkin’s personal brand of quirkiness bleeds through his performance of Ricky — who should instead be stalwart and confident, like Pacino’s portrayal in the movie. Ricky’s around eight-minute-long monologue to James is less filled with prideful assurance of success and more imbued with anxiety — both from Culkin himself and the audience, who wonder if the actor will even make it through the scene. Culkin’s deliveries just aren’t precise enough for theater. He rushes through lines, jumbling words together and throwing away important phrases.
In the second act, when we transition from the restaurant to an office in disarray, the cast succeeds more, no longer bound to sitting in dining booths. But Marber still aims for comedy, an especially troubling approach given the racial jokes characters make. Along with slurs for Chinese and Polish people, there is an extended bit where the salesmen complain about Indian people — Dave and George bemoan getting leads with the last name Patel, stating, “A supercilious race. What is this look on their face all the time?”
While it’s not inherently problematic to have purposefully racist characters, Marber doesn’t consider how these jokes land in today’s context, especially after Mamet himself very publicly endorsed President Donald Trump. Instead of adding complexity to his production — critics often emphasize the play’s satire of toxic masculinity, where the slurs are a way for the men to feel power over others — Marber is content with leaving them as casual racism.
Instead of resolving the play’s textual themes, Marber adds new, superfluous ones. He casts Webber, a Black actor, to play the office manager, a role conventionally played by white actors such as Kevin Spacey. When the white salesmen tear into John throughout the piece — Shelley even tells him that “you don’t belong in this business” — the racial subtext surges through. While Marber attempts to consider the meaning of a Black actor in this role, Mamet’s script doesn’t include nuanced racial commentary. It’s an interesting choice, but one suited to a different play with writing that supports the theme.
Still, Webber brings something to his role that the rest of the actors lack: fiery, passionate drama. When he finally exposes Shelley for his worthlessness at the end of the play, Webber’s biting hatred justifies this revival of “Glengarry Glen Ross” as a sharp, striking play. But, otherwise, Marber’s production left a dull impression, content with second place.
Contact Ethan Li at [email protected].
