Rarely is the power of the word executed with such exacting precision as in 6th@Penn's production of David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross. Each actor, under the deft hand of director Jerry Pilato, develops the uniqueness of his character both in Mamet's words and his own physicality.
The setting for this 1984 Pulitzer Prize and Tony- winning play is Chicago in the early 80s. Act One takes place in a Chinese restaurant. In the first scene we meet Shelly Levene (Jonathan Dunn-Rankin), a burned-out salesman in the mold of Willy Loman, and Williamson (Ash Fulk), his real-estate office manager. Levene is in the process of being fired. Dunn-Rankin's portrayal of this loser is a true work of art. Williamson, acting on behalf of the owners, is simply carrying out his duties. Fulk plays his character as a bit officious, yet, like the salesmen he supervises, larcenous.
The following scene has overly aggressive Dave Moss (Dale Morris) brow-beating George Aaronow (Haig Koshkarian), a low-performing salesman. Morris' character lacks any morals; he's even willing to resort to theft to get ahead. Politically incorrect to the extreme, he typifies the stereotypical used-car or Florida real-estate salesman of the 20s, the 30s, the 50s and 80s. Aaronow is not only a bad salesman, he is a weak human being not suited for a high-pressure sales career. One has to feel sorry for him.
In the final scene of Act One we see hot-shot slimeball sales leader Ricky Roma (Jonathan Sachs) ooze his way over to timid potential buyer, James Lingk (Joey Georges). Roma could literally sell refrigerators to Eskimos. He is so smooth that oil, not sweat, seeps from his pores. Poor Lingk is an easy pawn. Roma's eye is only on the sale, which will assure him salesman of the month and a new Caddie. What else could he possibly want?
The second act opens with a ransacked sales office, the file of sales leads missing. Set Designer Dale Morris with graphic designers Paul Savage and Michael Thomas Tower created a typical boiler-room operation with file folder-strewn desks and impressive land-development drawings on the walls. The office manager's office is private with windows to observe the salesmen.
Detective Baylen (B. J. Peterson), investigating the crime, is in the process of interviewing each of the salesmen. The motley, desperate sales crew is squabbling, meek buyer Lingk returns, and Williams tries to keep some semblance of order.
The theater cliché is that direction is 95 percent casting. Director Pilato has cast perfectly, Mamet's hand provided the words and speech patterns, and the actors have honed each of their characters to total believability. These real-estate boiler rooms were very hot in the 50s, selling property mostly in Florida swamp land and Arizona deserts. In Detroit, in 1953, my parents took a $1,000 gamble. When they retired to Florida, it was to an established community. They died about 25 years ago and their $1,000 was worth a few pennies on the dollar. Today, over 50 years later, the value has dramatically increased with the construction of roads and canals. While not the cons of the 20s, no ethical salesperson would be involved in these shady practices. But then there are always folks who'll sell valueless dreams to the unsuspecting, and that is Mamet's point.
You've probably met each of the four salesman at some point in your life. You can't help but feel sorry for Levene, have a moment of sadness for the weak Aaronow, abhor the vile Moss, and quite possibly hate Roma. You will wonder how Williamson can keep the office together and will be amazed at Detective Baylen's coolness under fire. You are in for an 80-minute example of excellence in writing and excellence in acting. Be advised that you'll probably need a reservation. Oh, and the profanity is rampant.
