Directed and performed by Ryan Beil and David Bloom. A Theatre Co-op Theatre Co-op production. At the Vancouver Playhouse Recital Hall on Thursday, September 2. Continues until September 12

David Mamet has always been a favourite of male actors. This summer alone has seen two locally mounted productions of his plays—both pet projects for their male stars. What’s surprising is how relevant his work still is, proven first in Eric McCormack and pals’ no-holds-barred rendition of Glengarry Glen Ross on the Arts Club’s Stanley Industrial Alliance Stage in July. Now, with a very different tone, comes David Bloom and Ryan Beil’s A Life in the Theatre.

It’s fitting that this intense actor’s study, an early work by the playwright, should take place in a space as intimate as the recital hall, buried in the bowels of the Playhouse Theatre. Inspired by Mamet’s own backstage experiences, A Life in the Theatre is about the toll that making art takes, and about the passing of power from one generation to another. The play has little of the testosterone-fuelled bravado of Glengarry, but all of Mamet’s punctuated rhythms are here, captured with a surprising naturalism by Beil and Bloom.

The two are well suited to the parts: Beil, like his character John, is a fast-rising young star meeting with increasing acclaim. Bloom, like his character Robert, is an accomplished veteran of the stage scene. Over the course of A Life in the Theatre, the two players go head-to-head in sparse duets that reveal their changing relationship. At first, John is eager to please the older actor, and Robert is all too happy to mentor him. But their exchanges deteriorate, from slight irritation to all-out disdain, till Robert is the one left grovelling.

Where both actors excel is in bringing the unspoken intentions to every line in this slyly funny script. Bone-dry Beil can put a truckload of meaning into a simple “Mmmm-hmmm”. (Is he showing derision? Evasiveness? Bewilderment? Or all three?) And just watch Bloom jealously “compliment” the younger actor’s sable makeup brushes and new cashmere sweater.

Mamet makes it difficult to empathize with Robert. He’s patronizing and prone to grandiose statements (“We are explorers of the soul”). Bloom has to be mannered here, but he manages to do so without being overly off-putting. And he makes you feel sorry for Robert in his final, frantic attempts to hold on to an unforgiving career.

The show is mounted innovatively, on two stages. One serves as a dressing room, the other is the “stage” where scenes from make-believe plays echo the men’s real relationship. An array of well-known local directors, from Katrina Dunn to Max Reimer, stage these short plays within the play, though their talents are not exactly showcased in the purposely inept theatre send-ups. The only real problem is with sightlines—say, when the actors are soldiers sitting in trenches, or when they’re being obscured slightly by the makeup “mirror” that frames them on the other stage.

The artifice of theatre is exposed here. One of the production’s best conceits has its stage manager (Dani Fecko) standing in plain view giving cues. But it sometimes feels rushed, with Beil and Bloom tearing from stage to stage, changing clothes to get to their next quick scene.

Still, it’s fascinating to watch these two actors pull off the quick changes that would normally be hidden off-stage, and they’re just another of this play’s vivid revelations about that bizarre world that is a life in the theatre.