Glengarry Glen Ross

According to Ed Asner in his 2000 appearance on The Actor’s Studio, the cast of the 1992 film adaptation of Glengarry Glenn Ross jokingly retitled the movie “Death of a Fuckin’ Salesman.” Of course, this refers to Mamet’s typical heavy use of curse words, but it also draws an important line from Mamet’s play to Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman (1949), which looks at the salesman as evidence that the American dream is a lie. Miller’s salesman, Willy Loman, is miserable and financially unsuccessful despite endless hours on the road. Loman kills himself, and his widow pays off the house with his life insurance payout, something he couldn’t have done by working. The American dream promises that America is a place where everyone, regardless of circumstances of birth, can work hard and achieve success. Though the specifics of the American dream have changed over time, certain key components of the myth have remained stable. For Willy Loman’s audience, it was a house in the suburbs and a nuclear family, and home ownership has remained central to the American Dream. Salespeople, from Willy Loman to Ricky Roma, epitomize both the allure and the failures of the American dream. The phrase “eat what you kill” has long been popular among salespeople for good reason: Unlike salaried workers, they survive on commission, and theoretically their fortunes depend solely on their skill and drive. In reality, as both Miller’s and Mamet’s plays show, both luck and larger economic forces play a significant role. Like the American dream itself, selling depends on confidence. Any number of sales manuals will tell you that in order to sell effectively, you have to believe in yourself. The play’s star salesman, Richard Roma, stands out for his ability to project an almost diabolical self-confidence. For this reason, a run of bad luck can become a self-fulfilling prophecy, leading to more bad luck in a downward spiral like the one that led to death of Willy Loman.

The salesperson occupies a particularly precarious position in the capitalist marketplace. Corporations manufacture goods or buy up land, and salesmen are the middlemen who bring those commodities for the American middle class to buy. Executives keep the majority of the profit and get rich, but as long as the salesman is selling, they ought to theoretically take home enough money to support a home and family. But selling relies on the middle class having disposable income, which is dictated by the state of the economy, and when the economy takes a downturn, salespeople are often among the first to suffer.

In London, where the play premiered in 1983, and at the time of the Broadway opening in 1984, both countries were under similar economic policies. Thatcherism (named for UK Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher) and Reaganomics (named for US President Ronald Reagan) both favored wealthy individuals and corporations by cutting their taxes, saving them money through industrial regulation, and increasing the share of the tax burden borne by the working class. In the United States, Reaganomics was ostensibly designed to stimulate the economy and create a “trickle-down” effect. In other words, supporting the wealthy would lead to more and better-paying jobs, so wealth would trickle down to the workers. Not only did wealth not trickle, but automation and outsourcing allowed corporations to cut jobs and wages. Home ownership was within reach for the average worker before the 1980s, but by 1982, the United States was in a serious recession with nine million unemployed workers. Class disparity deepened with the rise of the “yuppies” (an abbreviation of “young urban professional”), made up of college-educated baby boomers who were well-paid and participating in a growing consumerist culture. These were often (not always) former hippies who described themselves fiscally conservative but politically liberal. They relocated to cities and perpetuated the gentrification of urban neighborhoods, which pushed poorer people (and people of color were disproportionately poor) out of their homes.

The real estate salesmen in Mamet’s play are particularly potent symbols, as they are selling the American dream itself. The Chicago of the play is transitioning from the post-war era, when home ownership was an attainable part of the American dream, to a new economy in which only the upper classes can buy homes. They are selling cookie-cutter homes in planned suburban developments at the edges of cities—a phenomenon that began in the post-war era in places like Levittown, New York, and Lakewood, California, before becoming widespread in the second half of the 20th century. This was a risky proposition for buyers, who often relied solely on the developer’s promise that a booming suburban future was on the horizon. Sometimes this promised future materialized, but just as often it didn’t. For every booming Lakewood, there’s a California City—a planned community in the Mojave Desert that was originally touted as the next Las Vegas but, decades later, remains underdeveloped and sparsely inhabited.

Mamet satirizes the real estate salesmen who are clamoring for the very few listings in locations desirable enough for the rich people who can afford them. The Indian and Polish immigrants whom Roma derides for never buying, as well as the older couple whom Levene “sells” to, are probably dealing with this transition themselves. Although housing discrimination was technically illegal, rich neighborhoods, like rich people, were predominantly white. Mamet’s salesmen resort to coercion, illegal activities, and shady business practices to close sales, because otherwise, they can’t move listings. Levene recounts his big sale for Roma, describing how he essentially forced the couple to write the check and sign the contract. Even Roma, who is the best salesman with the highest numbers, tries to scam Lingk into being stuck with a sale he doesn’t want. If the American dream means finding success by working hard within one’s individual capacities, these salesmen reflect the desperate last gasp of that dream, getting by on nothing but charm.