By Ken Kupchik
Upon seeing the announcement for David Mamet’s Pulitzer Prize-winning play on Broadway, Glengarry Glen Ross, featuring Bob Odenkirk, Bill Burr, and Kieran Culkin, I thought the same thing any other movie junkie who runs a sales newsletter might think—looks amazing, but a summer trip to New York? Forget about it.
Then the retargeting ads hit my news feed, and I came around to the idea that missing this play, with this cast, would be a dereliction of my duty as both a proprietor and appreciator of creative sales-centric media. Tickets were bought, hotel rooms were booked, and after braving the Times Square crowd on a Saturday night in June (highly not-recommended), I found myself along with 3 curious friends at the Palace Theater, surrounded by a Rolex and Omega-wearing crowd—tall, svelte, and mostly quite attractive.
As the curtain rose, Shelly Levene, AKA Saul Goodman, AKA Jimmy McGill, AKA Bob Odenkirk, was sitting in a leather booth less than twenty feet from me, trying to convince his sales manager, John Williamson—played by Donald Webber Jr.—to give him the quality leads, as only Bob Odenkirk could: desperately, emphatically, and with more than a touch of Goodman’s fast-talking neurosis. Odenkirk is thinner and grayer than he looks on TV. Perfect casting. Great scene. Lots of applause.
Bill Burr’s angry and unmistakable voice opened the next scene, where he sat across from Michael McKean (Jimmy’s brother in Better Call Saul), who, despite being upstaged by Burr, brought a certain level of gravitas to the performance. Burr plays Dave Moss, the disgruntled salesman who hatches the plot to steal the Glengarry leads, while McKean plays George Aaronow, his less assertive, and more moral, counterpart. Burr is excellent as the pushy, cynical Moss, and almost steals the show. Lots of laughs here. Goes by too fast.
Next scene: Kieran Culkin, sporting a patchy beard that no self-respecting 1980s salesman would ever wear, is pitching real estate to an unsuspecting bar patron. Kieran is eccentric, clever, and strangely smooth as master salesman Richard Roma, in an awkward, possibly drug-induced sort of way. But I found myself comparing Culkin’s Roma performance to that of Al Pacino, in the movie version of Glengarry. Maybe unfair to Culkin, who’s relatively new to the game, but when stacked against Pacino’s nuanced slow-boil masterclass of a sales pitch, Culkin comes off more as a nervous entry-level rep than a high-dollar heavy hitter. Still—as far as performance, it’s a load of fun.
Intermission. It’s going by too fast. I take the elevator to the upstairs bathroom in an effort to avoid the long line but find myself in a bathroomless hallway that looks less like a historic theater and more like the set of the latest Blumhouse horror flick. I get back to my seat just in time to watch the curtain go up. The bar is gone, replaced by an elaborate real estate office, complete with ceiling stains, broken windows, and a glass-doored lobby that looks so realistic, it makes me wonder if it actually leads out to the street.
There’s been a break-in. The good leads are gone! The cops are here and everyone’s a suspect, including Roma (Culkin), who just wants to know if the contract from last night already went downtown. It’s pandemonium in the best way. Culkin redeems himself in the chaos. Burr loses his shit (is he even acting?), and Odenkirk stutters and gesticulates his way through the marathon scene. It’s Mamet at his best—clipped, repetitive, profanity-laden, and the cast runs with it, playing off each other, and the audience, until, finally, unfortunately, the curtain falls.
The play is different from the movie, especially with this cast. The movie is tense and atmospheric, with none of the spontaneity and audience interaction you get from a live theater crowd. It’s also missing the famous Alec Baldwin scene, but it does just fine without it. Because the Odenkirk-Burr-Culkin Glengarry is a comedy, and not much of a tragic one. But what else can you expect when you put those three together? Three hugely entertaining personalities, all of whom bring their own flavor of fun to the performance. And that’s what it was—incredibly, unforgettably fun. Worth every penny, every cab ride, even worth braving the Times Square crowd on a sweltering June night. Five stars!
