David Mamet’s plays are tough to pull off because his dialogue lacks the predictable shapeliness of traditional dramatic speech. He prefers the sort of meandering, oblique, backtracking and self-deluding conversation you might overhear in a hotel dining-room. Glengarry Glen Ross opens in a restaurant, where a handful of realtors are discussing the perils and joys of their craft. The scene culminates in one of the landmarks of American drama. Top salesman Ricky approaches a potential customer in disguise and delivers a sales pitch that sounds like a poetic meditation on destiny and existence. It’s impossible to say what darkness this little masterpiece emerged from but Christian Slater (Ricky) captures all of it, abruptly and shockingly, with laser-like precision.
Ricky’s mark is a middle-aged deadbeat named James (Daniel Ryan), whose ominous black moustache sits over his upper lip like a hearse with a puncture. James accepts Ricky’s advice to buy a plot of land but the next day he changes his mind and slopes into the real-estate office hoping for a refund.
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