Kieran Culkin and Bob Odenkirk’s play is bleeping underwhelming

David Mamet’s classic line “Coffee is for closers only” isn’t actually uttered in his play “Glengarry Glen Ross.” Alec Baldwin says it only in the movie.

However, the underpowered revival of the show at the cavernous Palace Theatre could certainly use some caffeine. And heat.

That the workplace play, on Broadway for the fourth time, opened last night is appropriate. This is, after all, a production suffering from a severe case of the Mondays.

It’s Mamet, so the “f–k”s still fly. But what are normally big laughs turn into polite titters, and explosive tempers are destructively tempered. 

The should-be scorcher of a story about sleazy, lying, ruthless Chicago real-estate salesmen who will commit crimes and ruin lives to close a deal is as laid-back as a work-from-home Friday. Criminally underwhelming.   

Why, then, is “Glengarry Glen Ross” such a tough and pricey ticket? As with Denzel Washington’s oh-so-dull “Othello” a block away, the draw is its formidable celebrity cast. 

The wrinkled suits of these foul-mouthed cheats and backstabbers are worn, this time around, by Oscar winner Kieran Culkin, Bob Odenkirk, Bill Burr and Michael McKean.

That’s not stunt casting. The popular actors all are a sensible fit in this grimy underworld of dodgy hucksters, even if some are more right for their characters than others.

Seemingly made for Mamet, Culkin cursed at breakneck speed for four seasons on “Succession.” Odenkirk is no stranger to amoral behavior, having been con artist-turned-lawyer Saul Goodman on “Better Call Saul.” Comedian Burr’s resting state is furious, and McKean, onstage and screen, has a knack for regular Joes.

What a shame, then, that all of them are undermined by the worst piece of casting in the show — the Palace Theatre.

This is not some sprawling epic. “Glengarry Glen Ross” is a play with a first act consisting of three intimate, two-person scenes set in an empty Chinese restaurant.

The second half takes place in an average-looking office the day after a burglar ransacked the place and stole all the valuable leads — coveted information on potential buyers. 

So, to channel Mamet, why the f–k has it been plopped onto the same stage that was home to “West Side Story,” “Legally Blonde” and “SpongeBob Squarepants: The Musical”?

It’s a huge mistake. Any tension heads straight down the lobby escalator as soon as the curtain rises, and it’s challenging to become absorbed by the tale — even during the always-feisty second act.

And it doesn’t matter where you are. From the primo seats, it still feels like there is a football field between you and the actors. 

Far off in the distance, like staring at Jersey City from the piers, the cast struggles to connect and click with each other as they work hard to fill an unforgiving barn.

Culkin, whose skill for making cruelty and unpleasantness lovable is put to good use, isn’t really a Ricky Roma — the top closer at the company who aggressively sells worthless tracts of land in Florida to unwitting pawns. He’s not an alpha, not a killer. 

The actor’s blowup at the office manager in the end is strong and he’s plenty entertaining throughout. That doesn’t make his Ricky any less frazzled, quirky and out-of-control. In short: Roman Roma.  

That obliterates the all-important contrast between Ricky and Shelley Levene, the older, down-on-his-luck seller who hasn’t closed a deal in ages. 

Nonetheless, Odenkirk nails the struggling man’s desperation and world weariness. Even his face is drained of color and vitality. Nobody here’s a good guy, but Shelley’s plight grabs us.

As a loudmouth who hatches a shady plan, the funny Burr barks just like you want him to. And McKean, as bumbling George Aaronow, steals scenes with his sadsack glances.

While this would never have been a brilliant “Glengarry,” I know the revival directed by Patrick Marber would have at least come off much better in a smaller house where the audience could actually focus on it.

We’ll never know. In Broadway’s fierce battle for real estate, Mamet’s real estate agents lost.