directed by James Foley
David Mamet’s rapid fire treasure about one night inside Premier Properties, a macho and ruthless Chicago real estate office, moves like a hot shot of greased lightning, and the spectacular ensemble cast of acting titans find a way to chew every single frame of scenery Foley can serve up. Though I would argue that Foley’s contribution to the film is minimal (I cite his depressing resume as exhibit A and David Mamet’s Broadway predecessor as exhibit B), it really doesn’t matter much when you have such a killer script and a cast that would make any director swoon. Alan Arkin, Al Pacino, Ed Harris and Jack Lemmon all play hard boiled real estate agents (in an office managed by the snide and sneaky Kevin Spacey) who will stop at nothing to earn a Cadillac El Dorado (offered up by a scene stealing Alec Baldwin) and avoid the axe. Chances are any internet soundboard inspired by these actors you have ever heard contains soundbites of yelling, cursing, more yelling and cursing, and pissing contest style ruminations from this classic. For a film that takes place in roughly 3 set pieces (the Chinese restaurant, the Premier Properties office and the rainy street between the two), Glengarry keeps you riveted, enthralled and swept up in a whirlwind of testosterone infused one-upmanship, money obsessed desperation and success crazed egomania. You have to catch your breath just trying to keep up, and those you with a soft spot for the fresco of profanity of near Big Lebowskian proportions Mamet crafts will be in your glory as you listen to these guys drop F bombs like shell casings from an engaged minigun. Rightly so, Glengarry Glen Ross is on most top 100 Films lists, a position it’s likely to hold forever, unless someone else can score that El Dorado.
And for your viewing pleasure, Blake (Baldwin) offering up the parameters of the contest: