Glengarry Glen Ross 2025: A Classic Play Brilliantly Acted For Modern Times

Jennifer Lane, Guest Editorial

Warning: Some spoilers ahead.

I’m a huge fan of the 1992 film Glengarry Glen Ross. But I know it isn’t for everyone. Many can’t sit through an hour and a half of watching struggling salesmen from a bygone era screaming and swearing about sales leads, coffee, and failure. It isn’t exactly light and breezy entertainment. And yeah, there’s racist dialogue.

But to me, it’s a masterclass in brilliant acting, razor-sharp dialogue, and intense character study. It’s a must-read for aspiring playwrights and a must-watch for Broadway aficionados. 

So, when I heard about the 2025 Broadway revival with Kieran Culkin, Bob Odenkirk, Bill Burr, and Michael McKean, I was all in. Not just because I loved the movie, but because I love this cast. I’ve never seen the play performed live before, and I was curious how these actors would handle David Mamet’s famously rhythmic dialogue compared to the movie.

What surprised me most was the audience's laughter—a lot. This made me ask the question: Is Glengarry Glen Ross a comedy?

Bill Burr Makes It OK to Laugh at Desperation

First, let’s start with Bill Burr. To me, he was the most memorable part of the play—the one I couldn’t stop talking about afterward. Burr plays Dave Moss, a loudmouth salesman who steamrolls over everyone else’s dialogue with his ranting, raving, scheming, and unhinged plan to rob the office.

His fast-talking, smart-ass energy perfectly matched David Mamet’s rapid-fire, profanity-filled dialogue. Burr’s delivery pulled the dark humor right to the surface and made the desperation feel funny. And that wasn’t an accident. Mamet’s writing has always had a comic rhythm buried under the tension—if you hit the timing right, the laughs land hard.

Because we already knew Burr from stand-up, there was built-in permission to laugh. He gave the audience a way into the satire. He made it okay to lean into the ugliness and laugh at it because he was clearly having fun doing it.

Michael McKean: A Master Class in Subtlety

Michael McKean as George Aaronow was my second favorite performance of the night. I adore him in everything he does, and this was no exception. One of the best scenes in the entire play happens early on—Moss and Aaronow at a Chinese restaurant. Burr comes in hot, ranting and scheming, while McKean sits in quiet dread, barely able to keep up. The contrast between them was perfect.

In the movie, I remember feeling such sadness and pity for George—he looked lost, like he couldn’t quite keep up with the speed and cruelty of the world around him. But on stage, in front of a live audience, that same panic somehow became funny. The audience laughed—not at George, but in recognition of that overwhelmed, stammering, too-polite-to-say-no energy McKean captured so precisely. 

What captivated me most was how McKean played the silence perfectly in a play full of shouting. His character, George, has maybe a dozen lines in the entire script—many of them half-finished or repeated. And yet, McKean made him unforgettable.

While other characters barked and blustered, McKean conveyed quiet panic—a man clearly in over his head, just trying to survive the day. When Moss tries to rope him into the office break-in, George simply echoes the last thing Moss says, like he’s trapped in a nightmare and can’t wake up. It was haunting—and somehow also funny.

It’s easy to play big. What McKean did was much harder. He played small and specific. Glengarry Glen Ross is a master class in acting, and McKean delivered it most clearly. With barely a page of dialogue, he gave us someone precise, subtle, and deeply human.

From Roman Roy to Ricky Roma: Kieran Culkin’s Razor-Sharp Reinvention

Al Pacino’s Ricky Roma in the 1992 film is unforgettable—he’s slick, intense, and absolutely terrifying. He doesn’t just sell real estate; he seduces, bullies, and dominates. It’s compelling, but not exactly funny. One of the only times I laughed during the movie was out of pure nerves, like when Roma explodes at Williamson for blowing his sale. It was funny because it was terrifying. Kieran Culkin’s version? Totally different. I wasn’t scared of him—but maybe I should’ve been.

Culkin, best known for playing Roman Roy on Succession, brings that same fast-talking, slippery charm to Ricky Roma. But where Pacino was all swagger and volume, Culkin’s Roma is cooler, more cynical, and sneakier. He’s not shouting—he’s slithering. He doesn’t command the room; he lurks in it, watching and waiting for the moment to strike. The result is a version of Roma that feels more in tune with 2025—a quieter manipulator rather than a bombastic alpha.

And because Culkin is noticeably younger than the rest of the salesmen, his role in " Roma hits differently. He’s the future circling the drain of the past, the next generation of grifters who’ve learned to hide their desperation behind dry wit and a blank stare. That shift made the power dynamics feel fresher and weirder. Roma isn’t just the top salesman anymore. He’s the shark in a tank of dying fish.

His performance doesn’t chase Pacino’s—it flips it. And in doing so, Culkin made Roma funny, creepy, and unsettling in a whole new way.

One of the biggest laughs of the night came from a tiny exchange between Roma and Shelley Levene (Bob Odenkirk) about crumb cake—some lines in the script that Culkin and Odenkirk turned into pure deadpan gold. Odenkirk recalls being in a client’s kitchen: “I’m eating her crumb cake.” The audience chuckled. Culkin pauses, then asks, dry as ever, “How was it?” Another laugh. Odenkirk shrugs: “From the store.” Culkin doesn’t miss a beat: “Fuck her.” The timing was lethal. The audience erupted.

After the curtain call, the cast came out to greet fans. Someone in our group asked Donald Webber Jr. (who played the office manager, Williamson) if we’d been a good audience. He smiled and said, “Yes, we could tell you were.” Then he singled out that crumb cake exchange as proof: “That’s great comedy writing right there.” And just like that, our instincts were confirmed. The play might be brutal, but it’s also hilarious. And this cast knew exactly how to land both.

Bob Odenkirk’s Shelley Levene: The Broken, Beautiful Heart of the Play
Finally, let’s talk about Bob Odenkirk. Jack Lemmon’s Shelley Levene in the film is iconic—an aging salesman clinging to past glories, smiling while drowning. On stage, Odenkirk brought his own spin to Levene, blending humor and sadness in a way only he can.

Known for roles that walk the line between laughable and tragic, Odenkirk’s Levene was more aggressive than Lemmon’s—more bravado, more swagger. We’re used to those high highs and low lows from him (Better Call Saul, anyone?), and he brought that emotional rollercoaster to the stage. His Levene wasn’t just pathetic—he WAS funny. His delivery was spot on, especially in his scenes with Moss, where he tries to negotiate access to the “good leads” with the desperation of a man drowning in a sea of rejection.

One of Odenkirk’s funniest—and most brutal—moments came when he relived a recent sale, bragging about closing an $82,000 deal with a couple he clearly bamboozled. He embellishes every detail, riding high on the thrill of being back on top. “Eighty-two grand! I did it. I sold them! Bruce and Harriet Nyborg,” he beams, practically bouncing. “You should have seen them. I was incredible.” And then? Williamson cuts him down: “The Nyborgs…? They just like talking to salesmen. They’re not actually buying anything.”  Watching that hope drain from Levene’s face was a gut punch. Odenkirk didn’t overplay it—he just let it land, hard.

Odenkirk’s performance was the emotional anchor of the production. We didn’t just laugh at Levene—we winced for him. His raw honesty made the character painfully human, and the humor only made the heartbreak sharper.

If You Love Great Acting, Don’t Miss This Glengarry Glen Ross Revival

I love the movie. I loved the play. But Glengarry Glen Ross isn’t exactly easy entertainment. It’s angry, profane, and bleak—I totally get why some people can’t sit through it. So no, it’s not a comedy. But with this cast, it felt like something more layered: part dark joke, part brutal reality check about a world that’s still wearing people down. If you’re into great acting, sharp writing, and a little twisted humor, this revival is definitely worth seeing.

If You Go, Note the Following

This play includes racial language and stereotypes that reflect its 1980s Chicago setting. The revival doesn’t shy away from these uncomfortable moments, keeping the play honest and raw. It’s a reminder that Glengarry Glen Ross is more than a workplace drama—it’s a period piece that challenges us to reflect on how much (or how little) has changed since then.

Where’s Alec Baldwin?

If you came expecting Alec Baldwin’s legendary “Always Be Closing” speech, you’re not alone. Baldwin’s character, Blake, was created specifically for the film and doesn’t appear in David Mamet’s original stage script. So, no Baldwin here—but you won’t miss him.

This cast holds its own, making the revival memorable on its own terms.