In the realm of theatre, few plays capture the essence of 1980s capitalism as effectively as David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross. This classic drama, renowned for its sharp-witted portrayal of fast-talking Chicago real estate salesmen, takes a surprising twist in a recent all-female production. The question arises: does this gender-swapped version do justice to Mamet's original vision? Personally, I think the answer is a nuanced 'it depends'.
A Play on Masculinity
The play's central theme revolves around the portrayal of American masculinity in the 1980s, a time when the concept of 'macho' was deeply ingrained in societal norms. Mamet, arguably the master of capturing this era's masculine spirit, presents a compelling study of men driven by ambition and a desire to prove their worth. What makes this particularly fascinating is the exploration of how this masculinity is both a source of power and a potential pitfall. In my opinion, the original play's strength lies in its ability to showcase the dark side of this masculine ideal, where the relentless pursuit of success can lead to unprincipled acts and a sense of emptiness.
The all-female cast, directed by Patrick Marber, takes on the challenge of embodying this masculine spirit. The wardrobe choices, ranging from trouser suits to skirts and high heels, create an intriguing dynamic. This distance between character and actor adds an extra layer of complexity, allowing us to observe the cast 'performing' masculinity, as Mamet's linguistic punch-ups come to life. However, one thing that immediately stands out is the absence of the high-energy, volume-filled tone that characterized the original play. The darkness, a key element in the original's humor and tragedy, seems to have been toned down, leaving us with a rather Bugsy Malone-esque send-up.
Levene's Failure and Williamson's Functionality
Levene, the elder salesman on a losing streak, is a compelling character. In the original film, Jack Lemmon brought compassion to the role, humanizing the failing manhood. However, in this production, Indira Varma portrays Levene as an apoplectic fool, relishing in the role. The performance, though entertaining, lacks the depth of tragedy. You don't feel the weight of his failure to realize the American dream because the focus is on making fun of these men. On the other hand, Williamson, the office manager, seems rather functional, lacking the menace that one might expect. This raises a deeper question: is the focus on the magnification of masculinity overshadowing the underlying themes of the play?
Women in a Masculine Lair
The production's gender-swapped approach raises an interesting point. As outgoing artistic director Matthew Warchus notes, the reasons behind such reversals vary. Some are driven by gender parity, while others are political or simply arbitrary. In this case, the purpose of the gender reversal feels unresolved. One might argue that women entering a masculine lair can feel forced into aping the men, especially in the era of Margaret Thatcher. This raises a broader question: is it capitalism, crossed with patriarchy, that turns these characters into venal desperados? They are cogs in the capitalist machine, rather than masters, and ultimately chewed up by it. However, this perspective is not fully explored in the production, as the focus remains on the magnification of masculinity.
Conclusion: A Nuanced Takeaway
In conclusion, the all-female Glengarry Glen Ross is a thought-provoking take on a classic. While it offers a fresh perspective on the play's themes, it also raises questions about the purpose of the gender reversal. The production's strength lies in its ability to present a compelling study of masculinity, but it may lose some of the original's depth and darkness. From my perspective, this production is a fascinating exploration of gender dynamics and the complexities of power in the corporate world. It invites us to consider the impact of societal norms on individual choices and the potential consequences of a masculine ideal that is both empowering and destructive.
