Swearing and Intelligence: A Look at Glengarry Glen Ross
There’s been ample discussion among researchers about the connection between swearing and intelligence, suggesting that a propensity to curse might indicate a higher IQ. With playful expletives in hand, one might say, “Hell yes!” It’s safe to assume that David Mamet, the master of colorful language, would proudly claim his intelligence. But do the salesmen in his 1983 classic, Glengarry Glen Ross, share this intelligence? These relentless sellers of questionable real estate to unsuspecting Chicagoans are undoubtedly profane, hurling expletives like seasoned jazz musicians playing improvisational riffs. However, beneath their bravado, they remain mere beasts navigating the treacherous zoo of capitalism.
The Irony of Alpha and Beta
The humor woven into Mamet’s rapid two-act play reveals a critical irony: while these men compete intensely on a performance board that ranks their deals, they are fundamentally subservient. The ongoing debate over alpha and beta dynamics may seem trivial, yet it reflects a kind of social Darwinism these characters would embrace without second thought. They roam their metaphorical jungle, hunting for “leads” to ensnare unwitting clients, convincing them to purchase lots in the Glengarry Highlands of Florida, all while puffing them up with a false sense of importance and adventure. This predatory ritual unfolds at the end of the first act when office standout Ricky Roma (played by Kieran Culkin) ensnares newcomer James Lingk (John Pirruccello) in a local eatery, encouraging him to dismiss notions of middle-class morality and embrace ambition.
Culkin’s Challenge as Ricky Roma
Ideally, this scene should be brimming with a playful camaraderie mixed with underlying animosity as the audience, like Lingk, is drawn into Roma’s inexpensive philosophical musings. Yet, something is lacking. While Culkin’s youthful energy has shone in shows like Succession, his portrayal of Roma feels misaligned. The casting choices made by director Patrick Marber and the producers prompt the question: What if Ricky Roma is not the confident predator we expect, but instead someone riddled with insecurity, oscillating between bravado and vulnerability?
Culkin’s established comedic persona tends to dilute Roma’s swagger and edge. The character, famously portrayed by Al Pacino in the famed 1992 film and by stars like Bobby Cannavale and Liev Schreiber in previous revivals, must exude charm and assurance. While some cracks can show when under duress, Roma is conceived as a seasoned shark. Unfortunately, Culkin’s delivery of the Act I monologue lacks the necessary energy and direction, representing a stark contrast to the compelling dynamics established in earlier scenes involving office manager Williamson (Donald Webber, Jr.) and veteran salesperson Shelly (Bob Odenkirk).
The Dynamics of the Office
Culkin finds his footing somewhat as the action shifts to a disheveled office the following morning, where he interacts with a cast of lively characters. The narrative begins to feel like a one-act workplace drama, split between quick sketches. Here, Ricky celebrates his victory with Lingk and a shiny new Cadillac, while Aaronow displays understandable anxiety about the day’s events, and Moss unleashes his frustrations. Shelly bursts back into the scene, prideful after landing a significant property sale.
The ensemble brings Mamet’s sharp dialogue to life, with Odenkirk slowly revealing Shelly’s desperate yet strangely innocent characteristics—an approach not surprising from the lead of Better Call Saul. His portrayal brings an unexpected grace to the role. Webber Jr.’s Williamson navigates his way through the barrage of verbal abuse with impressive resilience, ultimately regaining control over his tormentors.
Burr’s Standout Performance
The true revelation of the production is Bill Burr, who commands Mamet’s fragmented language and edgy profanity with remarkable finesse. His Boston accent is a refreshing interpretation of the Chicago setting, infusing the character of Moss with palpable indignation and scorn—not only for the corporate world but also for himself. Burr’s improvisational precision brings a unique looseness to Moss’s rants, allowing him to elevate every scene he graces.
Having experienced three revivals of Glengarry over two decades, it’s evident that its themes remain timeless. There’s something about the charm of a smooth-talking operator that continues to resonate—evident even in today’s world. Despite uneven casting choices, the core message echoes loudly: master the art of selling yourself, and opportunities will abound. The ability to sell—whether it’s oneself or a dream—remains an invaluable skill. In this fast-paced narrative, the art of the pitch reigns supreme, whether you’re purchasing an expensive ticket to a Broadway show or simply navigating everyday life.
