Review: Glengarry Glen Ross
[Old Vic || June 4th to July 18th 2026 || 1h 30m]
Do you get it? It’s radical because it’s an all-female cast… starring in a play written by a man… but! They’re in a production directed by… oh. A man. Forgive the facetiousness but, regardless of the quality of this show (which I think is, broadly speaking, good), it’s obvious that this revival was thrown together in a panic to fill a seven-week gap in the Old Vic’s schedule. As I previously predicted, it’s staged in-the-round to save on costs, and the character names, settings and dialogue are all as Mamet wrote them over four decades ago. Nothing, other than the sex of the actors, has been changed, which begs the question: why?
The obvious riposte - why not - is a fair one, and there’s no reason why Indira Varma shouldn’t play Shelly ‘The Machine’ Levene, nor why Dorothea Myer-Bennett shouldn’t play Williamson. Both are decent actors, and there’s something superficially interesting about women playing the leads in a text defined by oppressive masculinity and chauvinism. Alas, that’s all the change is - superficial - and one can’t help but think of Sam Wallman’s infamous drone strikes comic as the closest parallel. So these characters are women now (except they’re not, they’re still just playing men) - so what?
It’s a question this production - which, I repeat, is directed by a man, which undermines it further - is unable to answer. It’s the same script performed by women, and though they’re all perfectly good at what they do, this is the second show in a row in which the Old Vic has alluded to different and interesting power dynamics (in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest it was the question of race) and then wasted the opportunity to do something interesting with them. As such, what we’re left with is just any other telling of Mamet’s story; the dynamics are the same, the characters are the same, the narrative is the same. It is, for all intents and purposes, no different to the last London production at the Playhouse Theatre back in 2017.
That said, on those terms this is a decent revival. The performances are solid - the aforementioned Varma and Myer-Bennett in particular, though the whole ensemble is decent - and Mamet’s script crackles with a catty irritability that lends itself to some great moments of raw humour. The staging is simple and unobtrusive, which works, and it breezes along in under 90 minutes. The final scene is brilliantly played and the stars have a chemistry that makes us believe in their rivalries and conflicts. Likewise, though it’s in-the-round for cost reasons, the fishbowl effect of watching these characters fight for dominance over one another is effective.
What could’ve been a production about how women have also been corrupted by capitalism, or how gender essentialism still reigns supreme, or how the success of the Reagan Revolution was to turn us all into beasts of the system is instead just a perfectly passable and functional revival of Glengarry Glen Ross. And that’s fine! Not everything needs to be groundbreaking. But this feels like it had the potential to do something interesting but wasn’t able to - perhaps Mamet wouldn’t allow it - and that’s a shame. Nonethelesss, I can’t judge a show for what it isn’t, only for what it is. And this is fine bordering on good.
Tickets for Glengarry Glen Ross are available here.