I Love Legitimate Thee-yather

I had particular reason to be grateful this Mother’s Day, as for my birthday my parents bought me a ninth-row center seat to the Broadway revival of that heartwarming pean to maternal values and the ties that bind mothers and their children: Glengarry Glen Ross. About the play’s merits, I guess there’s not much point in debating; you get Mamet or you don’t. It will be performed for many decades to come, and what will be a high place in the canon is richly deserved; it’s an amazing work. (Admittedly, the fact that I’ve worked in boiler rooms before may give it a special resonance; more on that another time.) What is worth a little more discussion is what the play–which I had read and seen in its quite different film version but never performed live–would be like on stage.

Many people will be familiar with James Foley’s film version. I unhesitatingly put it on my list of best films of the 90s, and was pleasantly surprised that other people of taste agreed (see Roxanne in comments as well) or sort of agreed. (Apropos of nothing, Norbizness gets Run Lola Run exactly right .) Given the difficulties of filmed theatre, it was quite a remarkable accomplishment. Mamet’s adaptation was a very intelligent response to the medium, not changing the fundamental, very “theatrical” content of the dialogue but taking the opportunity to make some good structural changes and additions. Two of the best scenes in the film–Shelly’s humiliating sit and of course the Alec Baldwin-led sales conference–wouldn’t work in the play, but were made possible by the new medium. James Foley filmed this exceptional script very effectively, and of course I don’t write well enough to convey the quality of the cast.

Nonetheless, the play as even better. You may think that you don’t really need to see the play if you’ve seen the movie, but you do; if you have the opportunity and like, or think you might like, Mamet at his best you have to see it. The rhythm of the dialogue is a very deep pleasure indeed when performed this well, and seeing a live performance is an irreplaceable experience. The greatest potential concern would be comparing this cast to the one assembled for the film, and yet despite the less-famous names it’s a wash at worst. To my eye and ear, only Jonathan Pryce’s Lingk and Kevin Spacey’s Williamson are clearly preferable to their counterparts in this production (played respectively by Tom Lopat and Frederick Weller–the latter’s sometimes forced readings and excessive early telegraphing of Williamson’s buried toughness and canniness are the only significant flaws in the performance I saw.) If anything, Alan Alda’s Levine, Gordon Clapp’s Moss, and (especially) Jeffrey Tambor’s Aaronson are better than the estimable performances of Lemmon, Harris, and Arkin. And, most surprisingly, Liev Schreiber’s Roma holds its own. Pacino’s Roma is about as good as acting gets, but Schreiber’s is also superb, and is arguably truer to Mamet’s conception of the character. The sets were designed by the longtime Woody Allen collaborator Santo Loquasto, and were also exceptional. Anyway, it was a terrific show.

Seeing a panhandler on the way out, I was reminded of a good joke:

A foppish man about the enter a theatre sees a beggar. He pompously lectures, “”Neither a borrower nor a lender be.’ –William Shakespeare.”
The beggar replies: “Yeah? ‘Fuck you.’–David Mamet.”