The production of David Mamet’s “Glengarry Glen Ross” now playing at Waterfront Playhouse through Feb. 12 is a very different thing than the Jack Lemmon movie and breeds a much headier madness than the Red Barn version of 1991. Many of those involved with the Waterfront show were also part of last year’s hit, “12 Angry Men,” including its director, George Gugleotti, and the volume is just as high.

The opening night audience laughed and gasped like it was witness to one of those family meltdowns that happen in front of strangers and descend to such depths of seething despair and acrimony you just have to laugh and gasp.

Brian Furlong and Peter Haig and Glen Wilson make such perfect real-estate shills that we spent most of the evening thanking God we were not in sales. Quincy Perkins as the young punk in a suit (“YOU OWE ME A CAR!”) is so spot-on it’s alarming; this kid’s ready for the movies. Brandon Beach as the office manager is scary too but in his silence; Mook “J” is his perfect accomplice. And Tom Murtha does so much as listener and fall-guy that a whole other play is inherent in his part; this man’s ready for Broadway.

Two sets by that always exceptional designer, Michael Boyer: The Chinese restaurant of Act One is the setting for a series of searing duets by the main characters; the office of Act Two is where it all goes to hell. The direction by Gugleotti feels like Dante summoning up the inferno. The city-slicker suits by Carmen Rodriguez triggered flashbacks; the lighting by David Bird equalled his work in “12 Angry Men,” and Kristen Wilson is now on her third all-male production as stage manager.

As for Mamet, is he scribbling childish rubbish or tossing shrapnel-filled grenades? Am I gasping or bleeding?