Oct. 24 (Bloomberg) -- The Broadway revival of David Mamet's 1988 ``Speed-the-Plow'' stars Raul Esparza, Jeremy Piven and Elisabeth Moss, all currently on TV (in ``Pushing Daisies,'' ``Entourage'' and ``Mad Men,'' respectively). Though at least two of them are fine stage actors as well, there is something unmistakably TVish about this production at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre.

That applies to the play as well, with its flashy extroversion and hectoring aggressiveness that we associate with TV comedy and drama, both of which genres ``Speed-the-Plow'' aspires to. For television is desperate to grab hold of you before a touch on the remote hurtles you to another of the horde of competing channels.

Bobby Gould (Piven) and Charlie Fox (Esparza) are friends who started out in a film studio's mailroom and have tenaciously worked their way up. Bobby has just been made head of production, while Charlie is a producer loyal to him.

A schlocky prison-movie script that Charlie pitched to the top movie star of the day has earned him a 24-hour guarantee from the star -- no small matter -- and now Bobby is all set for himself and Charlie to take it to Ross, the supreme studio boss, who, however, won't be available till 10 o'clock next morning.

Machine-Gun Banter

Time, then, is of the essence. As written and directed, Bobby and Charlie spatter words the way machine guns could only envy, at a speed our ears must frenziedly scamper after. The two hucksters spout sentence fragments, or pop out sentences each irruptingly finishes for the other. They may even speak simultaneously or instantly parrot the other's statement to show how quick on the uptake they are.

Meanwhile, on Bobby's cluttered desk, there is also a novel by an ``Eastern sissy writer,'' an egghead work about atomic radiation and the end of the world, for which, though unproduceable, uberboss Ross wants a ``courtesy reading.'' This assignment Bobby palms off onto Karen (Moss), the attractive temp subbing for his absent secretary.

After work, she is to rush home and read it, and before the night is over come to Bobby's house, on the off-chance that it may be a one-in-a-million hidden gem. If you think this sounds like Bobby is also thinking of a quickie in the bedroom, you are absolutely right.

One-Upmanship

The rest of this 80-minute race to speed the rival plows is all about one-upmanship or, if you prefer, power plays. Karen, while protesting her naivety, in fact proves as good at pitching a project as performing between the sheets.

Esparza and Piven deliver terrific performances that magnetically complement each other. Esparza is unsurpassed at revealing ecstatic exuberance or, in a twinkling, unleashed rage. He acts equally commandingly with octave-storming voice, rampaging or cringing body and galvanized or galvanizing limbs. His expressions, by themselves, could knock over bowling pins or stop a steamroller.

Piven, on the other hand, is an expert at smugly superficial affability, smoothly complacent opportunism, but also unpredictably boyish vulnerability beneath. Their slippery skirmishing and intermittent violence are a guilty joy to behold.

Regrettably, Moss is nowhere near their league. She has neither the acumen nor the looks for the part (both of which are explicitly referenced in the dialogue); she is cutesy where she should be bewitching and has, or affects, a gratingly squeaky voice. The result is a trio for violin, viola and tissue-papered comb.

Neil Pepe, artistic director and co-founder with Mamet of the Atlantic Theater Company, is a practiced hand at staging his plays and squeezes the maximum out of them. Scott Pask's simple but sufficient scenery does the necessary work, and Laura Bauer's costumes and Brian MacDevitt's lighting expertly go even beyond that.

If you are impervious to all this, you may speculate about the meaning of the title. ``Speed the plow'' is an old English expression of encouragement and was, indeed, the title of an obscure 1800 play by Thomas Morton. Mamet, who can always go the obvious one better, adds a couple of hyphens to the title by way of orthographic mystification.

At the Barrymore Theater, 243 W. 47th St. Information: +1- 212-239-6200; http://www.telecharge.com.

(John Simon is the New York drama critic for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this column: John Simon in New York at jis1925@aol.com.

Last Updated: October 23, 2008 22:30 EDT