Tony Estrella , Tom Gleadow & Sam Babbitt
The Mamet cult holds up 'Glengarry Glen Ross' as the author's crown jewel - the epitome of his portrayals of the aggressive and pathetic dog that is "man". No doubt that male actors would backstab and bribe in order to get a part in this show for it contains some of the most vivid creations in Mamet's stable as well as some of the finest examples of both soliloquy and ensemble to be found in modern theater. Whether or not "Glengarry..." deserves all of the fuss it gets is a literary discussion. More Teeth is more concerned about whether or not the Gamm has assembled a cast and Director that can take on this material and not leave the audience wondering, "Why don't any of them speak in complete sentences?"
Well, More Teeth has been asked the same thing about these reviews, so we're willing to cut anyone some slack for not getting Mamet's style completely mastered. Years ago, while performing in 'Edmond', we were told "You either need to move to Chicago or read more Mamet." This elitist view pervades and far too many critics and theatrical cognoscenti claim to "get" Mamet far more than the less experienced or less Illinoisan who attempt to tackle his scripts. So, what of an audience who just wants to see a good show with a solid reputation? We'll see if the Gamm has the ingredients to provide more than a verbally abusive sausagefest and dig deeper into some of the spiritual emptiness and gender roles that lie underneath...
- September 7, 2010
Putting in a Good Word...
Gamm Artistic Director and 'Glengarry...' co-star Tony Estrella includes a brief history of the dirty word in the program notes. It's a self-aware CYA measure that warns the casual theatergoer that Mamet loves to keep it real - is famous for it, in fact. Mamet, to quote 'A Christmas Story' works "in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It [is] his true medium...a master..." But, to think it's all about the F-bombs is to miss the point. The language of 'Glengarry Glen Ross' is, like Kerry Callery's preshow music, pure jazz. Oftentimes, it's more about the rhythm and the facility of the actor's instrument than the content. And, it is not until afterwards that we realize we've been taken somewhere else. In the end, we're left with the desperate stories of desperate men and a pervasive feeling that nothing is fair in the world.
Director Fred Sullivan,Jr. has assembled a combo more than capable of bringing out all of the notes in Mamet's score. Sam Babbitt overcomes some early pacing issues to shine as the aging dog, scrambling to make a sale and get back on "the board". We first see him paired with greasy office lackey John Williamson (a skillfully understated performance by Marc Mancini). Following their initial duet, riffing on the theme of sales leads and corporate seniority before finally petering out into bribery, kickbacks and daughters, we meet our second partners in crime. Tom Gleadow owns this stage fully and completely as the blustering Dave Moss, relentlessly driving Chuck Reifler's pathetic (and somehow lovable) George Aaronow into a corner with nothing but words. By now, we notice that we've been through two scenes with barely any movement by any of these four men. It has all been the rapid-fire staccato of these words...this music...and we're hooked. Of course, Estrella's Ricky Roma enters like a lounge singer hitting his money note. And, ultimately, that's exactly what he is, for Roma is slick but recognizably human, at once vulgar and urbane. Estrella brings a husky-voiced gravitas to this character that hints at some of Alec Baldwin's weightier moments without lapsing into mimicry. His seduction of the emasculated prey he spies at the same restaurant we've witnessed the previous two dances of domination is fascinating. The conclusion is foregone - this poor sap will sign an overpriced contract - but the joy is in watching it draw out. The song is a standard - but in the hands of a balladeer like Roma, we're hearing it for the first time.
The sparse setting of the restaurant - two rickety tables with outsized placemats, hanging lanterns and a hurriedly sketched dragon hold the promise of something larger and more wondrous underneath. All temporary dressing for the opening act while the headliner's gear hides behind. The reveal as the curtain draws aside at the end of the act was worth applause in and of itself. Scenic Designer Patrick Lynch, aided by Katryne Hecht's set dressing, delivers a monument to capitalist clutter. Like the interior of a 'Barney Miller' scene gone rogue, there is a grimy order dominated by the central idolatry of the play - the chalkboard denoting the literal and figurative place of each of the four salesmen. The idea is that the bottom two will be let go - and, thus fail as men, as providers...as everything. Levene screams at Williamson to "get the chalk!" after he makes his spurious sale in Act Two. As if no one but the boss could dare touch it. At moments, we feel as if any one of them will wipe out the dusty roll call out of frustration or defiance. But no one dares touch it. Even the cocksure Roma, once confirmed of his place in the top ranks defers to the "child", Williamson, to declare it. Even the perpetrators of the office break-in, while damaging practically everything else, cannot bear to touch the sacred scriptures and they are intact among broken glass and missing paperwork. At show's end, the board even gets its own spotlight, allowing the monolith its curtain call. Always Be Closing....
As written, it would be easy to lose this ensemble in a flurry of shouting and swearing. We get a lot of both, but to an effect of wicked perfection. It is a particular joy to witness the trio of Estrella, Gleadow and Babbitt interweave two separate dialogues, building in operatic layer and intensity until Gleadow's Moss explodes in vicious glory. Orgasmic in its release, Moss's exit betrays the pent up rage that all of these men carry. In contrast to the howls born of desperate fear, some dogs are fixed in place, powerless to do little more than whimper and lick the boots of the tormentor. Sullivan has brought out the nuance of Roma's latest rube, Lingk, by allowing us to see that his wife, one of many unseen characters in this play that wield actual power, has stripped him of all the masculinity that Roma would have him believe is his birthright. Kelby Akin inhabits Lingk as a man struggling against an invisible electric fence, tearfully yearning for freedom, even while he suspects that Roma's brand of freedom may be "hell on earth."
The constant tension of the police interrogation driven by the hard-nosed Baylen (Richard Forbes) feeds the driving intensity of the remainder of the play as we discover not only who may or may not have participated in the burglary, but what backroom alliances have developed and who is really in charge of whom? And throughout, those words dance and fly like sparks above a bonfire on a summer's night. Beautiful, yet potentially dangerous, this language builds men up and tears them down with the turn of a single phrase. And Sullivan's cast swing them like swords. In the end, we're left stunned...not only at the barbaric precision with which these men have cut each other down, but by wondering how they ever were able to get back up.
This production of 'Glengarry Glen Ross' is sure to satisfy even the harshest critic and Mamet scholar either side of Chicago. For, like opera, those who know the libretto can settle in to see the players take their turn. And those turns are virtuosic indeed. But even seen as a fresh piece, with no foreknowledge of Mamet, this script or even the movie (to which many will force comparison), the Gamm has opened its Season with a mainstage masterpiece.Get a ticket while they're still available.
'Glengarry Glen Ross' runs at the Gamm Theatre,172 Exchange Street in Pawtucket, through October 3rd. Tickets are $25, $30 & $40 (depending on performance) with discounts for subscribers, students, seniors and groups of 10 or more. Call 401-723-4266 or visit their website, gammtheatre.org. Arrive early to get a decent parking spot and leave late to avoid the hassles of getting out. Concessions include beer and wine, and a nice gallery of past production posters.
