You ever walk into a thrift store and feel like the air is heavy with the smell of failure and old dust? That’s the vibe. American Buffalo isn't just a play about a botched robbery; it’s a brutal, profanely poetic autopsy of the American Dream performed in a Chicago junk shop. David Mamet wrote this thing in 1975, and honestly, it still feels like a punch to the gut.
Most people think it’s just three guys swearing at each other. They’re wrong.
Basically, the plot is deceptively simple. Donny, who runs the shop, feels like he got hustled. He sold a buffalo nickel to some guy for ninety bucks, but now he’s convinced it’s worth a fortune. He wants it back. Not because he loves coins, but because he’s wounded. His pride is hurt. So, he hatches a plan to rob the guy’s house with his young protege, Bobby.
Then Teach walks in.
The Myth of "Business" in American Buffalo
If you want to understand why David Mamet is such a big deal, look at the character of Walter "Teach" Cole. He’s a paranoid, high-strung braggart who thinks he’s a philosopher-king of commerce. When he hears about the heist, he doesn't see a crime. He sees "free enterprise."
He kicks Bobby out of the deal. Why? Because Bobby is a "junkie" and Teach considers himself a professional. The irony is so thick you could cut it with a knife. None of these guys are professionals. They’re bottom-feeders in a system that has already chewed them up and spat them out.
Teach gives these long, rambling speeches about how "business" is just people looking out for themselves. It’s a cynical worldview. He says:
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"Free enterprise... it's the freedom of the individual to embark on any course that he sees fit in order to improve his lot in life."
It sounds like something out of a corporate handbook, but he’s using it to justify stealing a nickel. This is the core of American Buffalo. Mamet is showing us that the language of big business and the language of small-time crooks is exactly the same.
That "Mamet Speak" Rhythms
You've probably heard the term "Mamet Speak." It’s staccato. It’s fast. People talk over each other. They don't finish sentences.
- Characters use profanity as punctuation.
- The pauses (often marked as "beat") are more important than the words.
- It’s "profane poetry," according to long-time Mamet collaborator Gregory Mosher.
In the original 1975 Goodman Theatre production, William H. Macy played Bobby. Can you imagine? Macy was just a kid then. Later, the play moved to Broadway in 1977 with Robert Duvall as Teach. That’s a lot of testosterone on one stage.
The language isn't just there to be "edgy." It’s a mask. These guys are terrified. They use "fuck" and "shit" and "cunt" to build a wall around their own inadequacy. If they stop talking for one second, they might have to admit they have nothing. No money, no future, and barely any friendship.
The 1983 Revival and Al Pacino
You can't talk about this play without mentioning Al Pacino. His 1983 performance as Teach is legendary. He brought this wired, explosive energy that made the character feel like a ticking time bomb.
During that run, tragedy struck. James Hayden, who played Bobby, died of a heroin overdose just hours after a performance. He was only 29. It’s a dark, eerie parallel to the character he was playing—a young man struggling to survive on the fringes. It changed the energy of the production forever.
Why the Buffalo Nickel Matters
The coin itself is a symbol. Obviously.
It’s an "American Buffalo." It’s a piece of history that’s been discarded. Just like the guys in the shop. They’re obsessed with this one coin because they think it’s their ticket out. It represents the "big score" that every gambler and hustler dreams about.
But here’s the kicker: they don't even know if the guy has the coin. Bobby brings Donny a different buffalo nickel later in the play, claiming he bought it at a coin shop just to please him. The whole heist is built on a foundation of lies and half-baked assumptions.
It’s a comedy. Kinda. But it’s the kind of comedy where you laugh because the alternative is crying.
The Breakdown of Loyalty
By the end of the play, everything falls apart. Fletcher, the guy they were waiting for to help with the robbery, never shows up. There’s a rumor he was mugged. Teach doesn't believe it. He starts thinking everyone is out to get him.
He attacks Bobby. He trashes the shop.
The "business" relationship they tried to build collapses into pure, raw violence. Donny, who spent the whole play trying to act like a mentor, finally realizes that Teach is a cancer. The play ends not with a successful robbery, but with Donny trying to comfort a bleeding Bobby while Teach stands amidst the wreckage of the junk shop.
It’s a bleak ending. But it’s honest.
Actionable Insights for Theater Lovers
If you’re going to see a production of American Buffalo—like the 2022 revival starring Laurence Fishburne and Sam Rockwell—or if you’re an actor looking to tackle Mamet, here’s how to actually "get" it:
- Ignore the swearing. Don’t play the profanity; play the intent behind it. The words are just tools to get what they want.
- Watch the status shifts. The power dynamic between Donny and Teach flips constantly. Notice who is "winning" the conversation at any given moment.
- Focus on the junk. The setting is a character. The clutter represents the mental state of the men—overwhelmed by the "trash" of their lives.
- Look for the tenderness. Underneath the screaming, Donny actually cares about Bobby. That’s the tragedy. The system of "business" makes it impossible for them to just be friends.
Mamet's politics have changed a lot since the 70s—he’s moved pretty far to the right—but this play remains a masterpiece of working-class critique. It’s about the desperation of trying to be "somebody" in a world that treats you like a used hubcap.
The next time you hear someone say David Mamet is "outdated," tell them to go back and read the scene where Teach explains why he doesn't need to apologize. It’s as modern as any Twitter argument you’ve ever seen. Same energy. Same ego. Same tragic ending.
To truly appreciate the nuance of the play, compare the 1996 film version starring Dustin Hoffman with a live stage recording if you can find one. The film is good, but Mamet’s rhythm is designed for the stage; it needs the silence of a live audience to really land.