Boston Herald, Wednesday, June 20, 2001

Powerhouse production of' 'Glengarry' is the real deal;

By LIZA WEISSTUCH

Real estate agents might not be the first figures to come to mind as subjects for gripping drama. But when playwright David Mamet casts his penetrating eye on the average Joe, the result is a provocative piece of theater. In the Pulitzer Prize-winning "Glengarry Glen Ross," he plumbs the daily dilemmas of grubby, cutthroat real estate agents as they scramble to earn a buck. Each man is a prisoner to capitalistic drives and the bail is set at his soul.

As they are only too aware.

The Stanley B. Theatre group deftly navigates the wheelings and dealings of the huckster agents in this explosive production. David Miller crisply directs an edge-of-your-seat ride through the claustrophobic alleyways of regret, betrayal and disappointment.

We first encounter the salesmen in their element: at a seedy neighborhood Chinese restaurant. While sales manager Ricky Roma (an impressively volatile performance by Bruce Serafin) buddies up with a hesitant client (Bill Stambaugh). four other exhausted agents sit around, sip booze and gripe about the latest office pressure: a contest for who can close the most deals. The high scorer wins a Cadillac. The rest are canned. They can't close deals without "the leads," but good leads are given only to those who regularly close.

Determined to break the vicious cycle, some of these burnouts contemplate resorting to illegal measures. Otherwise, the leads — let alone their American Dream — will remain as inaccessible as Shangri-La.

Dramatic intensity increases exponentially throughout the second act.

The day after someone breaks into the office and steals the leads, each man nervously waits to be questioned by a condescending police officer (Paulo Branco).

Mamet's signature thorny plotting and authentic dialogue make this a jaw-dropping display of macho posturing and searing emotions, despite each character's attempts at detachment.

Each cast member delivers a powerhouse performance. Each nails his character's petty jealousies, tenuous crust and self-doubt through a precise fusion of fury, ambition and fear. Stephen Epstein is particularly noteworthy as the worn and wretched Shelly "The Machine" Levine. His glory days long gone, he's terminally panicked as he feebly coasts on the legacy of his "name." As bewildered old-timer George, John O'Brien hilariously evokes Wilfred Brimley on speed. Gary Galone and Dennis Strahan each capture the bitterness and depravity of their real estate agents, but they arc so miserable that you feel no contempt.

The play's brutal realism is made more believable in the Leland Center's intimate quarters. Miller's gritty sets are authentic enough to make you squirm as you peer voyeuristically into this dog-eat-dog world.