SHARP AS EVER, BUT DOES IT CUT DEEP ENOUGH?
OR, IF YOU WANT BIGGER SHARKS,
YOU NEED MORE BLOOD IN THE WATER
Glengarry Glen Ross is a testosterone-saturated 24 hours of five salesmen, some metaphorically dying like Willie Loman–others who go home at night and live, no doubt, in a shark tank. Their best sales come from the best leads, but you don’t get the best leads until you make great sales. It’s a high-stress environment that some characters thrive on; to others, it’s breaking their spirit.
Bob Odenkirk, Donald Webber, Jr.
The leads are weak? The leads are weak? No, pal. The production’s weak. Or maybe just a little winded. A little soft in the gut. Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross isn’t a play that should settle, should linger, should think. It’s a sprint, not a marathon. Yet here we are, 100 minutes in the Palace Theatre—massive at 1,648 seats, too massive for a show that’s about close quarters, claustrophobia, five men devouring each other whole—and like Mamet’s dialogue, this thing should snap, crackle, and pop like Rice Krispies. But leave the Rice Krispies in the milk too long, it get’s soggy at 100 minutes.
Bill Burr, Michael McKean
But don’t get me wrong. It’s still a hell of a show. Glengarry Glen Ross remains a nasty, sinewy, cutthroat masterpiece. The testosterone, the sweat, the stink of failure—yeah, it’s all there. You walk out wanting to shower. That’s a good sign.
Kieran Culkin, John Pirruccello
It’s real estate, it’s survival. The names are on the board. The weak? Out the door. The strong? They get steak knives. No one is giving an inch, but that’s just it—the tension, the rhythm, it needs to hum like a well-oiled scam. It drags in places, mostly in Act One, where the actors don’t quite seize the power plays with the desperation they require. Kiernan Culkin’s Ricky Roma—smooth, slick, a vulture in a well-tailored suit—delivers in Act Two, but in Act One? His sales pitch, his seduction of a hapless investor, it’s all too measured. He’s thinking too much. He should be pouncing.
Kieran Culkin, Bob Odenkirk
And pacing? Donald Webber, Jr., as Williamson, the poor office manager trying to keep these wolves from eating his limbs, he’s not bad, no, but he’s missing that mix of smarm and incompetence that makes the character pop. He’s deliberate where he should be desperate.
Where the production shines, though? Bob Odenkirk. The man’s a wreck, a pathetic, crumbling, wheedling mess of a Shelley Levene, his career circling the drain. He gets it. He knows who Levene is. He makes you feel every rejection, every indignity. You watch him and think: this guy’s been playing this role his whole life, he just didn’t know it.
Kieran Culkin, John Pirruccello
And Bill Burr? Fire. Pure fire. As Dave Moss, he’s got the swagger, the anger, the greasy, coiled-up rage of a man who knows he’s smarter than the system, but the system doesn’t give a damn. Michael McKean as Aaronow? He listens, he twitches, he breathes the part of a man who knows he’s past his prime but hasn’t quite faced it yet.
Bob Odenkirk, Donald Webber, Jr.
Scott Pask’s Chinese restaurant set in Act One? Gorgeous. Red vinyl booths, air vents caked in filth, a stage wide as the lies these men tell. We totally buy as a place where deals are made, and certainly in this case, because there isn’t another character in sight, either waiter or customer; as such, there are no restrictive dimensions that would reduce the action’s physical demands, yet performers barely move in the first act. Act Two? The burgled sales office, wrecked, miserable, the broken dreams laid bare. Jen Schriever’s lighting? So good you don’t even notice it. That’s how it should be.
Bob Odenkirk, Donald Webber, Jr.
Does it work? Yeah, mostly. Does it thrill? Sometimes. Should it explode? Absolutely. Marber’s direction is fine. Too fine. Too controlled. And Glengarry? It’s a beast. It shouldn’t be controlled. It should be snarling, spitting, tearing at the leash.
Still. Even with the rough edges, the missed beats, the pacing that doesn’t quite sing, you see Glengarry Glen Ross for what it is—one of the great American plays. And this cast, when they click? They remind you why.
The Cast
photos by Emilio Madrid
Glengarry Glen Ross
Palace Theatre, 160 W. 47th St.
ends on June 28, 2025
for tickets, visit Broadway Direct or Glengarry on Broadway
