David Mamet’s two-act play, Glengarry Glen Ross, was first staged in 1983, and won the Pulitzer Prize, remaining something of a classic of contemporary theatre. It was adapted for film in 1992, by Mamet himself, and it is almost a word-for-word transcription of the play, with the one exception being this: the most famous, most quoted, and most popular scene of the movie, which is the subject of this blog, didn’t exist in the play but was written apparently to bulk out the piece to film length.
In creating the scene, Mamet arguably sets the tone for the entire movie. The movie features the pressured lives of real estate salesmen played by Jack Lemmon, Ed Harris and Alan Arkin, struggling to close deals in this toughest of tough rackets, and about to receive a visit from Blake (Alec Baldwin), the motivational speaker from Hell, who has been sent from “downtown” to read the riot act. It’s excruciating stuff; it takes a while to dawn on the salesmen just how tough this grilling is going to be (“Put that coffee down. Coffee’s for closers only…”) and we grimace at the ritual disembowelling of the poor men (“You call yourself a salesman, you son of a bitch?”).
Edifying it ain’t, but nonetheless it’s an acting masterclass from all concerned: Baldwin dishing out the flak; Lemmon like a rabbit in the headlights; Harris initially derisive and sceptical but then brow-beaten and forced to endure the spiel; Arkin submissive, silent. We can see and hear from the windows that outside is dark and the rain torrential; inside, the office is shabby and bleak and Blake is an unrelenting and pitiless tormentor. Now imagine you’ve just been told that you’re fighting to save your job in this month’s sales contest, in which first prize is a Cadillac Eldorado, second prize is a set of steak knives, and third prize is “You’re fired”. It’s stark, to say the least. You wouldn’t want to be in this game…
But hey, you’re not in this game – so sit back, relax, and enjoy not being on the receiving end of this verbal maceration and instead observe the equal measures of bravado and human frailty exhibited in this wonderfully uncomfortable performance by some great American actors.
