Bob Odenkirk on Making His Broadway Debut and His 'Pure Comedy' Pitch for Glengarry Glen Ross

Over a long, prolific career in comedy—encompassing stand-up, improv, sketch and writing for Saturday Night Live—Bob Odenkirk has elicited all kinds of laughs, from wry chuckles to gut-busting guffaws.

The laughs he’s hearing eight times a week at the Palace Theatre feel different. Playing the past-his-prime Shelly Levene in Glengarry Glen Ross, David Mamet’s 1983 play about unscrupulous real estate salesmen, Odenkirk has noticed the laughs are tinged with something more complicated.

“The laughs with Shelly have a little sorrow at the end of them,” he said in a recent interview. “A little ‘Awww…’”

It’s a natural development, given the progression of his resume: comedy, comedy, comedy, drama, to borrow the title of his 2022 memoir.

After spending many years in the serious business of being silly, Odenkirk took what looked to be a minor role in AMC’s crime drama Breaking Bad. His performance as the slippery and loquacious criminal lawyer Saul Goodman—a shot of comic relief in the show's increasingly bleak world—was a hit with audiences. After the series ended, show creator Vince Gilligan and writer Peter Gould sensed there was more to the character and that Odenkirk could carry it. Not without some trepidation, Odenkirk signed on for the Breaking Bad prequel Better Call Saul, portraying the sad and complex character of Jimmy McGill before he became Saul Goodman. 

The move marked a relatively late-career transition to drama—“comedy’s enemy,” as Odenkirk has called it. It was while filming a key scene for the show’s first season, Odenkirk said, that he realized that he might have what it takes to pull off this "serious acting" thing. In the scene, Jimmy confronts his brother Chuck (played by Odenkirk’s current Glengarry co-star, Michael McKean) about an act of sabotage and betrayal. “That was the hardest, most well written, emotionally powerful scene that I’ve ever been offered. And, by some degree, if I hadn’t pulled that off, I don’t know if there’s a series there. But being given that challenge—and that window, or that door to a window… Or a door, I’m going to call it a door—to a new avenue of performing…” (A classic Bob Odenkirk bit right there.) “... The only way I could do it was with total focus on everything I could think of that I’d learned about acting and being utterly present.”

Lately, something else has bolstered Odenkirk’s confidence that he has what it takes to be a serious dramatic actor: “Getting a Tony nomination. I’m not kidding, either. The truth is, this was another level of challenge as an actor.”

It has clearly helped Odenkirk branch out in his career that he has a face for drama. While his longtime creative partner David Cross undoubtedly has a face for comedy, Odenkirk’s thinning hair and self-acknowledged inability to smile convincingly, along with his parched rasp, lend themselves to wounded characters and starker stories. That beleaguered expression was a big part of what made his recent outing as a John Wick-style assassin in 2021’s Nobody utterly convincing. He’s surely the only actor to have punched, stabbed and shot his way through an action movie and then, in short order, played Shelly Levene. (Nobody 2, which he filmed earlier this year, is set for release in August.)

Particularly in Glengarry's opening scene, Odenkirk brings the requisite desperation to the role of Shelly. “These guys are existential losers,” he said. “They’re in their own little hell that they created and somewhat willingly live in.” But his Shelly, while down on his luck, is not, for example, the floundering, hopelessly rumpled figure played by Jack Lemmon in the 1992 movie version. Dressed sharply by designer Scott Pask, Odenkirk’s take on the character is relatively optimistic. At the start of Act Two, he’s on top of the world.

“I knew I was going to approach Shelly from a different place to what Jack Lemmon did,” Odenkirk said. (While Odenkirk’s co-star Kieran Culkin has breezily admitted to never having seen Glengarry, Odenkirk says he takes some inspiration from the film.) “I knew I was going to play him more energetic. Not clued in to the fact that the end is around the corner. Not aware of how close to the bottom he is.”

Odenkirk’s upbeat portrayal means that, when everything falls apart for Shelly, as it must do, it lands like a punch to the gut.

Of all the intersecting character arcs of Glengarry, Shelly's feels the most complete. It's a play within the play: The Tragedy of Shelly Levene. “My character has this very rich story. Nobody [in the play] has more room than Shelly to be angry, to be hopeful, to be positive, to be surprised by the way things are turning. It’s a great role.”

Odenkirk’s interest in Glengarry goes back a long way. Nearly three decades ago, he pitched a pure-comedy “clown version” of the play to Mamet—one that would have been, in his words, “outright literally making fun of the text.” In his vision, the salesmen would not be hawking dubious real estate, but pots and pans. He would have played the ruthless Richard Roma (the part now being played by Culkin) with Fred Willard as Shelly and David Cross also in the cast.

A few years ago, it looked like Odenkirk’s twisted spin on Glengarry might finally get off the ground—this time with Bill Burr and Chris Rock attached. But that production, intended for the Geffen Playhouse, failed to materialize, much to Odenkirk’s disappointment. “Initially David [Mamet] said yes, and then about a week later, he said no.” (While Odenkirk can't take credit for Burr being cast in the current Glengarry, clearly he was onto something.)

Has there been any temptation to try some of those pure-comedy ideas on an audience? Maybe at Wednesday matinees? “There is more than a temptation. There is some follow-through.”

Despite crossing the comedy-drama rubicon, Odenkirk hasn’t lost his natural inclination to goof off. As well as playing the role more energetically, he's laced his performance with plenty of exquisite comic detail.

“Once or twice I’ve taken it too far. You’ve got to be careful. But with Shelly, there’s an excuse for it.”

Partway through Act Two, Roma, in a bind, enlists Shelly’s help. Shelly finds himself playing “Ray,” the Director of All European Sales and Services for American Express, who really needs to get to O’Hare airport.

“That’s an incredible moment for me as an actor and also for Shelly. There’s an opportunity there.” At some performances, Ray adopts the accent of a "baker from Connecticut." "You know that East Coast accent where they talk through their teeth?"

As a playwright, Mamet is notoriously allergic to actors or productions that take liberties with his text. But Odenkirk’s comedy stylings—though perhaps mystifying to the playwright at first—have apparently won him over.

“David came to opening night. I wasn’t doing a fundamentally different version than what I’m doing now, but I was pretty full-on. And I was very concerned that he was going to say, ‘Stop being as funny and stop being as demonstrative…’ I could see he was confused by me. But he had a big smile on his face.”

A self-described theater outsider, Odenkirk has been “knocked out” by his reception on Broadway. “The warmth and acceptance and celebration and good vibes of the Broadway community… It’s a special thing. Also the love that everybody has for the form. It’s not a place people go to for a cash grab, you know what I mean?”

Right now, he’s delighting in the delicate dance between comedy and tragedy. “It’s the funniest version of this show you’ll ever see,” he said, with some pride. “Although, that other version would be very funny. I promise you.”

He’s already mulling over his next potential Broadway role; he's mentioned Richard III as a possibility—both to perform and to rewrite. He's kidding. Probably.