If you weren't sure, director Marco Barricelli will convince you that Glengarry Glen Ross is a musical.

David Mamet is known for his exacting rhythms, and his 1984 dark comedy about low-rent real estate salesmen is among his best work. Barricelli wisely keeps the play in its period, but the maneuverings, the quest for money and position, the overarching emphasis on masculinity are all as true today.

The play begins with a syncopated play of light and sound suggesting the El train of Chicago and underscored by dissonant jazz. The first words are spoken like percussion: "John . . . John . . . John . . ."

Surprisingly, that staccato rhythm doesn't continue through the first three scenes, each played at different booths in a red-rimmed Chinese restaurant. The scenes establish both the characters and the plot, beginning with Shelly Levene, the desperate aging salesman who's lost his touch and is reduced to begging the young, supercilious office manager for access to the leads, names of potential buyers. Next come Dave Moss and George Aaronow, reminiscent of a vaudeville comedy team, and finally Ricky Roma, the philosopher thief, star salesman and only man wearing natural fibers.

It turns out those scenes are just an overture for the orchestra that sets in when the men move into the office, a stained, acid-green environment designed by Bill Forrester. It's been robbed and the leads have been stolen. This is the engine that drives the play, and it's deceptively small: a petty crime with tiny stakes (someone could make $5,000!), but it's everything to the men involved. It is, in short, the stuff that usually brings us down.

Here the company reveals its finely tuned nature, slinging curses and interruptions and accusations like a tango in which everyone wants to lead. Mike Hartman makes a brilliant Shelly, entering with taped-together glasses and too-short pants, a man who's been left behind but is panting in the race to keep up. He has wild eyes like a cornered animal, and he pounces later, revealing what must have been his gift, before collapsing in a heap.

Throughout, Shelly sees the man he was and wanted to be in Ricky Roma, the lord of a very small manor played with brio and chill by Ian Merrill Peakes. Peakes' scene with James Michael Reilly as the emasculated customer Lingk is a marvel, as he sets out like an expansive, seductive preacher, pulling in his prey (watching Hartman later as his shill is even better).

The office is rounded out by Dave Moss, a cut-rate Roma whose bravado is bigger than his sales record. Lawrence Hecht plays Moss as a big, sloppy man, but one who could be dangerous in a corner. His sidekick is George Aaronow, given fantastic pathos and humor by Michael Santo, working with a puckered face and bewildered character.

Despite suits, tables and Rolodexes, these salesmen see themselves as part of a grand masculine tradition like cops or the military. Their office manager, despite his power over them, is a subject of derision. When Roma barks, "Who ever told you you could work with men?" it's the ultimate stab. If you can't work with men, what are you? A child? A woman? And which is worse?

Glengarry Glen Ross

* Grade: A-

* When and where: 6:30 p.m. Mondays through Thursdays, 7:30 p.m. Fridays, 1:30 and 7:30 p.m. Saturdays, Ricketson Theatre, Denver Performing Arts Complex

* Cost: $34 to $51

* Information: 303-893-4100