Actually, you might be surprised.

If you haven’t seen “Glengarry Glen Ross” recently, maybe you should see how Roma’s described on Wikipedia:

Although Roma seems to think of himself as a latter day cowboy and regards his ability to make a sale as a sign of his virility, he admits only to himself that it is all luck. He is ruthless, dishonest and immoral, but succeeds because he has a talent for figuring out a client’s weaknesses and crafting a pitch that will exploit those weaknesses. He is a smooth talker and often speaks in grand, poetic soliloquies.

Those who’ve read about Spector’s brusque, often downright crazed interactions with musicians in the studio, his turbulent relationship with ex-wife Ronnie Spector, and a notorious obsession with firearms which—no matter how you spin the story of the night a woman named Lana Clarkson ended up dead in his home—was directly responsible for his eventual incarceration will certainly see some immediate similarities between him and Roma. After seeing HBO’s “Phil Spector,” you will see even more of them. What you will not see, however, is a movie that matches “Glengarry Glen Ross.”

But, then, you probably didn’t expect that, anyway.

Discerning the difference between a good Al Pacino performance and a bad Al Pacino performance is a bit like the old “Remote Control” category, “Dead or Canadian”: sometimes it’s awfully hard to tell.

Take, for instance, his turn as John Milton in 1997’s “The Devil’s Advocate,” which was so insanely over the top that…well, it wasn’t what you’d describe as good in the traditional sense of the word, but it’s got such a can’t-take-your-eyes-off-the-screen quality to it that it’s hard to write it completely off as bad, either.

This is not what you’d call an isolated incident within Pacino’s filmography, but he’s certainly not beyond the point of being able to disappear inside a character. In particular, there seems to be something about working for HBO which brings out the very best in him: he’s earned the Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Miniseries or Movie twice now for his efforts in the network’s production, first for playing Roy Cohn in 1993’s “Angels in America,” then for his depiction of Dr. Jack Kevorkian in 2010’s “You Don’t Know Jack.” The quality of work might also have something to do with a desire to do justice to his portrayal of real people. Whatever the reason, his performance in the latter role effectively made me an Al Pacino fan all over again, because I forgot I was watching Al Pacino. Hand on heart, I cannot begin to tell you the last time I’ve ever experienced that, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s because it was the first time it had ever happened.

Suffice it to say that it does not happen during “Phil Spector.” Or, at the very least, it does not happen with enough consistency that viewers will ever truly find themselves lost in Pacino’s performance. Part of that may come from the fact that it would be impossible for anyone to play Phil Spector without a certain amount of flamboyance, thereby sending Pacino down a road where it becomes almost inevitable that he will fall victim to his tendency to go over the top. Certainly, the need to wear several different wigs and at least one fake moustache don’t exactly help one’s suspension of disbelief, either.

Still, you may have noted the caveat in the previous paragraph which implies that there are, in fact, some occasions where, despite whatever get-up he may be wearing at the time, Pacino captures the viewer’s attention successfully enough to vanish into his character for short periods. There’s definitely a special kind of magic when Mamet’s dialogue and Pacino’s delivery meet, and it’s evident during Spector’s soliloquies about his career, his way with women, and various and sundry other topics. Sometimes they come across as considered and thoughtful, other times they play like the ravings of a lunatic, but when Pacino’s given the opportunity to get on a roll, he delivers.

Oftentimes, however, Spector’s rants are interrupted by his attorney, Linda Kenney Baden, played by Helen Mirren, which shatters the magic. As a result, the back-and-forth between the two of them isn’t nearly as effective as when they’re provided their own spotlights, or when Mirren gets to play against Jeffrey Tambor, who plays her fellow attorney Bruce Cutler.

It’s also worth noting that there’s a slightly mind-bending announcement made at the beginning of “Phil Spector” which may affect your appreciation of the subsequent events:

“This is a work of fiction. It’s not ‘based on a true story.’ It is a drama inspired by actual persons in a trial, but it is neither an attempt to depict the actual persons, nor to comment upon the trial or its outcome.”

So what the hell is it, then?

Ultimately, it’s a reminder that Mamet and Pacino can, when the circumstances are right, work magic together, but whereas “Glengarry Glen Ross” was pure wizardry, “Phil Spector” is just a couple of nicely-executed card tricks: it’s not entirely unimpressive, but you’ve seen ‘em do better.

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: “Glengarry Glen Ross” (1992)

“Glengarry Glen Ross” is David Mamet’s film adaptation of his 1984 Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award-winning play of the same name. The star-studded drama depicts two desperate days in the lives of four Chicago real estate salesmen after Blake, a corporate trainer sent by the downtown office (played by Alec Baldwin in one of the best single-scene performances of all-time), announces that in a week all but the best two salesmen will be fired. The film is named after two of the properties the salesmen attempt to unload, Glengarry Highlands and Glen Ross Farms.

Chief among the salesmen is office hotshot Ricky Roma (Al Pacino), who knows every trick in the book and then some, always ready with another up his sleeve. Roma is joined by the less fortuitous Dave Moss (Ed Harris) and George Aaronow (Alan Arkin), who are rightfully intimidated by Blake’s speech. Last is Shelley “The Machine” Levene (Jack Lemmon), an old-timer whose career was in jeopardy even before Blake showed up. The once-successful Levene’s glory days have long since passed, nothing but the distant memories of a man working support his daughter, who’s hospitalized with an undisclosed condition. Levene will be familiar even to those who haven’t seen the film, as the character was the inspiration for Ol’ Gil from “The Simpsons.”

Early on, Blake shows up to give his “motivational” speech, which includes a likewise familiar line: “A, B, C. A-Always, B-Be, C-Closing. Always be closing.” It seems there’s to be an office contest over the next week. First prize is a Cadillac El Dorado, second prize is a  set of steak knives, and third prize? Well, “third prize is you’re fired.” Central to the salesmen’s efforts are “leads,” the names and numbers of potential clients distributed by coldly reserved office manager John Williamson (Kevin Spacey). Most of the leads are old and useless, the contact information of people the salesmen have already spoken with and who tend to lack the funds or the desire to actually invest in land. In spite of this, Williamson holds the more promising leads under lock and key, in reserve for the contest’s winners. The situation is a clear Catch-22, as the salesmen need the good leads to have any hope of keeping their jobs, but access to them will only be granted to those that do so by placing in the top two.

Because it was adapted from a stage production, “Glengarry” is minimalist in nature. Only nine actors have speaking roles, it seems every other line of the tight dialogue is highly memorable, while all the action takes place in a small handful of locations. The film is divided nearly exactly into two 50-minute acts. The first takes place on the rain-soaked evening of Blake’s speech and is propelled in large part by Levene’s bumbling attempts to get his hands on a worthwhile lead and make sales. It also showcases Moss and Aaronow’s strategizing in reaction to the announcement of the contest. Pacino’s character receives considerably less screen time in the first half than the other three salesmen, which serves to contrast them with Roma’s cool confidence as he neglects to show up to hear Blake speak and makes a sale with relative ease. On the other hand, the second act is largely Pacino’s turf as the salesmen and their manager show up to work the following day to discover the prime leads have been stolen.

The cast of “Glengarry Glen Ross” has jokingly referred to the film as “Death of a Fuckin’ Salesman.” It’s a profanity-soaked, modern version of the Arthur Miller play the nickname makes reference to, and in each the salesman represents the reality and failure of the American Dream. It’s a fine line between deception and salesmanship, and the film gives us both. It’s the subtle contrast of Levene’s grandstanding—barking orders to an invisible secretary or pretending he’s got a plane to catch—with the defeated look in his eyes. He seems to be perpetually a moment from tearing up and two from a total breakdown.

A frighteningly accurate portrayal of working in sales, “Glengarry” has been certified fresh and currently sits at a 96 percent on the Tomatometer. Pacino’s work in the film garnered him an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor, but Baldwin’s speech alone makes “Glengarry Glen Ross” a more than worthwhile way to spend 100 minutes on a Saturday evening.

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.