A standing O

David Mamet’s dialogue has never been my thing. Too choppy and brittle, like someone sitting behind me in the theater poking me with twigs.

But the problem wasn’t with Mamet: I’d just never seen him done right. Last night I did, and I’m advising everyone I know to go immediately to San Jose Stage and see “Glengarry Glen Ross.” It’s fantastic, the best production I’ve seen in a very long time. (No, I don't have a Palo Alto connection for this story. The show's so good it doesn't need one.)

These actors and this director really get Mamet’s words and cadences. Last night, the rhythm of the dialogue -- the back-and-forth, the stops and starts that make a conversation human -- was so impeccable that I found myself nodding in time, as though at a jazz concert. I kept smiling at the perfection of the pacing, all the while appreciating the power of the acting.

Afterwards, we introduced ourselves to actor Stephen Klum, a particular standout as Shelly Levene. He said several of the actors had worked together before, which contributed to the ease of their chemistry.

But a big part of the rehearsal process was simply listening to the pulse of Mamet’s play. “We had five weeks to rehearse, and we treated it like a piece of music,” he said.

It works. I would never have expected to be so captivated by a tale of conniving Chicago real estate agents.

They're talking, but are you listening?

The rotunda at Mountain View City Hall is currently filled with plastic torsos. This looks better than you’d expect.

The torsos are the plastic molds that Costco uses to display swimsuits. Each has been painted in acrylic by students from Tehila Eisenstat’s “Creative Expressions” painting class. The students are all cancer patients at El Camino Hospital.

One person turned a torso into a purple aquarium, with fish and plants across chest and waist. Another cut slits in the breasts and wove in ribbons. That one made me shiver.

A powerful painting had the torso bound with thorns. I thought about how you feel trapped in your body when you’re sick; you’d be all right, if only you could get up and leave it behind in the feverish sheets. The artistic talent varied, but that wasn’t really the point. On a sign nearby, Eisenstat gave kudos to her students and “their powerful message: ‘I am here and I have something to say.’”

Not many listeners when I was there, though. People kept clipping importantly through the rotunda like they had a meeting with the Queen. No one stopped to look at the art. One guy did pause and I thought, “Hey,” but he was just answering his cell phone.

The rotunda is lovely, with tall windows and light streaming down. It could be like a piazza. Maybe in a less busy country.

I got more curious looks than the paintings did. Probably because I had the audacity to be standing still when there was so much to do.

Big thanks to The Almanac's David Boyce for the terrific "Improv Everywhere" link.