Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic Unlock the Editor’s Digest for freeRoula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.The latest revival of Glengarry Glen Ross has been packing the Palace Theatre, but David Mamet’s classic about a cut-throat Chicago estate agency elicits varying reactions. Is it a period piece from another dog-eat-dog era (1983, to be precise), or is its demonstration of macho American hucksterism more relevant than ever? Then there are the debates over who “does” Mamet’s hard-charging argot best among the starry salesmen: Kieran Culkin, fresh from an Academy Award win; Bob Odenkirk of Better Call Saul; comedy veteran Michael McKean; or Bill Burr, with his stand-up timing.It turns out that the rhythms of Mamet’s strivers, angling for leads deviously and desperately, remain riveting, and their shamelessness still entertains and exasperates. But in Patrick Marber’s subtly syncopated production, and on Scott Pask’s roomy sets, these men are also cut down to size. Their tragic grandiosity seeps away, their petty villainy — selling worthless tracts in Florida to gullible hobbyist investors — no longer morbidly fascinating. They feel like small-time crooks, not exactly harmless, but somehow contained — an intriguing framing that does not feel like an accident or mis-step.The play’s first act deploys three separate dialogues in a Chinese restaurant, a hang-out that resembles an old-school club or lounge. These are small marvels of persuasion and essentially seduction, albeit beginning with failure: has-been Shelley Levene (Odenkirk) wheedles to the staff supervisor, Williamson (Donald Webber Jr, effortlessly authoritative), for better leads on clients, raising a finger to quell interruptions and attempt to control the flow. Then comes the next generation: Dave Moss (Burr) outrageously pitching an office break-in to old-timer George Aaronow (McKean, working wonders with hesitation); and leading realtor Richard Roma (Culkin), sidling up to a stranger and potential mark, Lingk (John Pirruccello), with existential musings, then segueing to a pitch as if it had just occurred to him.Here and in act two — set in their soulless office, post-break-in and mid-investigation by a detective — the production’s strong suit lies in its two melodic lines. One is Mamet’s verbal knife-fights, still a star attraction: the way Levene, Roma and Moss circle and wear down one another in profane bids to hold the floor and assert dominance, every exchange a battle mirroring the war on the monthly sales board. But part of Marber’s direction is also to find ways of switching up rhythms, and that’s where a sense of melancholy comes in, like Odenkirk getting a swing in his step with a sale, only to deflate again when his redemption evaporates, or McKean’s “so this is still my life” haplessness, clinging to him like stale cigarette smoke.That’s the mood that sticks with you more than the sheer force many still know from the 1992 film and other revivals. This hour-and-45-minute production, with intermission and blackouts, has a way of resisting momentum and inviting reflection. Culkin, who was perhaps cast for the weaselly insouciance of his Roman Roy in Succession, tends towards a wilier, softer version of the con here, more bluff than bluster. The generational succession of young gun Roma over Levene also feels subdued, fostering a sense that, really, none of them are going anywhere.It’s certainly still possible to enjoy this production as the stars playing the hits, Mamet as classic rock. (We’re now more years removed from the play’s debut than that debut was from one obvious precursor, Death of a Salesman.) But in the age of the real-estate-developer-turned-reality-show-star presidency, the “manosphere” and Mamet’s own Maga-adjacent proclivities, one appreciates this variation on what has become a kind of dramaturgical lad bible. One might even treat Mamet’s rage warriors as quaint — relics of the past, one hopes, someday.★★★★☆To June 28, glengarryonbroadway.com
