By John Quinn

Posted: Feb. 22, 2015 at 9:30 p.m.

David Mamet is an acquired taste. Regular visitors to this site know I’m more of a gourmand than a gourmet at theatrical feasts, but I’m confident that even the most educated palate will share my enthusiasm with the fare master Mamet serves when he’s fired up.

It’s appropriate that The Ringwald Theatre, nestled amongst the trendy restaurants on Woodward in Ferndale, features Mamet’s 1984 Pulitzer Prize winner, “Glengarry Glen Ross,” a searing drama of desperation and deceit. It is a scalding portrayal of pride, greed, and misdirected self-esteem. The mélange may be too salty for some tastes; the rapid-fire pace, with lines delivered on top of lines, all peppered with an onslaught of vulgarity and ethnic slurs, is a little overwhelming. It’s so characteristic of the playwright’s works that the technique is called “Mamet speak.” “Glengarry Glen Ross” is not served à la carte; no matter how bitter the taste, one cleans his plate and may ask for more.

The place is north side Chicago, in the fall of ‘83. In a grimy satellite office, four agents hustle real estate of questionable value to naïve clients (the play’s title is derived from two of those investment “opportunities” – Glengarry Highlands and Glen Ross Farms). This month there’s extra stress; the owners downtown, Mitch and Murray, have concocted a contest for the best performer. The winner gets a Cadillac; the runner-up, if we’re to believe the poster stage right, gets a beautiful set of steak knives. These guys are serious competitors and, with each trying to eke out a living on a ten percent commission, there’s no love lost among them. In fact, one of the fascinations with this play is listening to glib real estate agents try to con their conmen comrades.

Dave Moss (Dax Anderson) has had his fill. Having worked for the competition, he’s ready to turn coat, steal his firm’s preferred client list, and sell it to his former employer. But rather than dirty his manicured hands, he dragoons his less successful colleague, George Aaronow (Patrick Loos) to commit the robbery. Aaronow’s hesitation doesn’t even slow Moss; he tries to blackmail his clueless victim by threatening an “accessory before the fact” charge.

We find Shelley “The Machine” Levene (Joe Bailey), well past his prime, begging the universally despised office manager, John Williamson (Brenton Herwat) for better leads than his performance deserves. We also listen to the almost poetic soliloquies of the office top dog, Richard Roma (Travis Reiff) as he courts his next unsuspecting payday, James Lingk (David Schoen).

That’s just the first act, folks, and it’s only 38 minutes. The three scenes are like appetizers before a solid entrée – Act II – when the robbery is a fait accompli, every man’s a suspect, and the investigating officer (Nicholas LaGrassa) is tearing away defenses like a cook peels an onion. Mamet even manages what, if this were culinary rather than theatrical endeavor, a chef’s surprise.

Director Jamie Warrow draws admirable performances from her cast, yet there is something missing from the recipe. David Mamet’s scripts are beautifully balanced and beg for a performing ensemble. Think of ensemble as stew; the ingredients retain their unique flavors but the blend is greater than the sum of its parts. The binding agent that’s missing here is recognition of the strong sexual subtext pervading the writing.

One is struck by Levene’s observation directed at his younger, much more successful colleague, Roma. “A man is his job.” It’s a stunning – even stunted – belief, but it’s the self-perception common to all these flawed characters. Consider the corollary: a man not successful in his job is not successful as a man. There’s an animalistic instinct woven through “Glengarry Glen Ross,” a natural selection that more civilized humans would reject. The urban real estate office is no more civilized than the African veldt, and the young lions await their chance to bring down the older, slower males, in order to own a larger portion of the pride. “Pride?” Or is that “prize?” What profit a man if he wins a Cadillac, if he loses his immortal soul? Played right, that second act could be so intense you should be able to smell the acrid odor of tomcats marking territory.

Two design elements stand out in “Glengarry Glen Ross:” the set design by Jennifer Maiseloff and Barbie Amann Weiserman’s costumes. Maiseloff extends the stage much farther into the house than usual, which permits her to mount two complete sets, one behind the other. Clear away the Chinese restaurant that is the first act setting and, voila!, the cluttered, soulless real estate office is revealed, made even more interesting by Katy Schoetzow’s detailed set dressing. It is unfortunate that the tight space at The Ringwald demands that a major piece of Act II scenery be stored in the lobby. Moving that chalk board is a chancy maneuver that may be easier if the pivot points are secured.

Barbie Amann Weiserman’s choices in costumes speak volumes about the characters. The office hot shots, Williamson and Roma, are elegantly appareled compared to their less successful, older colleagues, Aaronow and Levene, who look like they’re wearing whatever was atop the pile on the bedroom floor. But they are all eclipsed by Dax Anderson, strutting like a peacock in a loud, patterned three-piece suit. There’s something very primal in the effect: the alphas sport brilliant plumage as a sign of their success – but the color palettes are all a little off. Bottom line: Weiserman telegraphs that this crew has more money than taste.

So, having sounded like a reject from both the Food Network and Animal Planet in a single review, a milestone even for a stream of unconsciousness writer like I am, how do I sum up “Glengarry Glen Ross?” It’s compelling drama written by one of the true greats of modern American theater. The Ringwald production features some of the top talent that local theater has to offer. It is a chance to leave one’s comfort zone and experiment with unfamiliar tastes. It’s as good as well-prepared sashimi, but without the fishy odor.

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SHOW DETAILS:
“Glengarry Glen Ross”
The Ringwald Theatre
22742 Woodward Ave., Ferndale, MI 48220
8 p.m. Friday, Saturday, Monday, Feb. 20, 21, 23, 27, 28, Mar. 2, 6, 7, 9, 13, 14, 16
3 p.m. Sunday, Feb. 22, Mar. 1, 8, 15
1 hour 40 minutes (10 minute intermission
$20-Fri./Sat. $15-Sun., $10-Mon.
248-545-5545
www.theringwald.com