With his gray mane and gravelly roar, Al Pacino skulks around the stage like an old lion in “China Doll,” David Mamet’s yakking character study of an aging oligarch still trying to intimidate the world despite his declining power.

The play, which is having its premiere at Broadway’s Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, could be interpreted as a commentary on two singular artists, once the kings of their respective jungles, who are now going through the motions of their former majesty.

The qualities that lustrously set them apart are being worn here like the disassembled tux of Pacino’s character — fancy attire for a forgotten function from the night before. Style, emptied of meaning, has devolved into mannerism.

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“The Anarchist,” Mamet’s last original play to debut on Broadway, sounded like two typewriters clacking at each other. “China Doll” is more of a drone. In both works, the cadences have that distinctive Mamet cut, but Pacino’s whining New York delivery has a plaintive tone even when his words are pummeling.

Were the production, directed by Pam MacKinnon, not set in a glamorous apartment designed by Derek McLane to resemble a modern Brentwood or East Hampton palace, I would have suggested an alternative title for the play: “The Kvetcher of Grand Concourse.” Pacino, who won Broadway acclaim for his schleppy Shylock in the 2010 revival of “The Merchant of Venice,” can’t seem to give up his Bronx moan — he repeated it in his portrayal of Shelly Levene in the lumpish 2012 Broadway revival of Mamet’s “Glengarry Glen Ross” and he’s adapted the vocal pattern here for the ludicrously loaded Mickey Ross.

The Oscar winner dominates every moment of Mamet’s new play, but he’s not alone onstage: Discreetly by his side is Christopher Denham, who plays Carson, Mickey’s well-groomed factotum. Although this is a two-hander, conversation between the characters isn’t the only thing that gets tongues wagging. Mickey directs a great many of Mamet’s words into his Bluetooth headset.

Carson, still wet behind the ears, jumps at his boss’ every command. He’s desperately trying to get Mickey’s young British fiancée on the phone, but she’s not taking calls in her Toronto hotel room. Apparently she had a difficult flight. Mickey had her transported on his new $60-million private plane that was forced to touch down in the U.S. before reaching Canada.


Al Pacino dominates every moment in “China Doll” at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre in New York. (Jeremy Daniel / Jeffrey Richards Associates)

This minor incident, coupled with the fact that the plane’s tail number was changed from Swiss to U.S. registration, is going to saddle Mickey with a $5-million sales tax bill. This power broker isn’t having it. He wants to speak to his lawyer, and when the lawyer doesn’t have answers, he demands the governor — whose father, the old governor, is one of his long-standing cronies.

The hour-long first act is sluggishly spent setting up this business, with Mickey barking to Carson, “Get me flight services in Toronto,” “get me Dave Rubenstein.” If eavesdropping on a switchboard is your idea of drama, then “China Doll” is the play of your dreams. (I was secretly hoping Mickey would holler for Carson to get Mamet a play doctor.)

The playwright toys with a number of dramatic possibilities but never finds conviction. Mickey’s demonic mentorship of Carson sparks some memorable exchanges. (Carson: “We should think of business as a sexual transaction?” Mickey: “Only if you want to get rich.”) But the problem with this dramatic through line is that Carson is a cipher, defined mostly by his gleaming suit and slick haircut. Before his soul can be at stake, there would have to be some evidence that he has one.


Another angle is the new Gilded Age version of one of those classic Mamet con men from “American Buffalo” or “Glengarry.” Mickey represents the rapacious 1%, meaning he’s a larcenist of a global elite order.

Politics for him goes hand in hand with money. “There’s a lot of foolish people out there — many of them vote,” he instructs Carson in his ongoing Mephistophelean seminar. Mamet has a field day caricaturing this worldview, but satire isn’t exactly his shtick. The playwright admires his devils too much to stick it to them.

Mamet flirts with “King Lear” scenarios, but Mickey himself recognizes that he’s not an old king who can relinquish his burden. His declaration of war against the governor (“there’s gonna be a twister in a trailer park”) leads him into a vulnerable position with the law, but he can only keep fighting, scheming and manipulating. He’s nothing without his capitalist swagger.


In walking an impossible tightrope between professional service and felonious complicity, Carson won’t in the end know what hits him. That is a coded spoiler of the way the drama culminates, but it’s unlikely this information will ruin your experience of “China Doll” should you get around to seeing it. The rhythm of Mamet’s language is so stupefying that the twists and turns of the plot barely make any impression at all.

This Broadway opening was delayed ostensibly so that Mamet could continue to work on the play. (Reviews were obviously not a top priority for a show that’s been doing killer box office in previews.)

Reports of Pacino having difficulty memorizing his lines have been circulating via the buzzards of schadenfreude. But I would defy anyone to try to learn even a few pages of a script so vexingly stylized it seems as though it could only be a Mamet parody.