by Wendy Wasserstein
directed by Richard Seer
presented by the Huntington Theatre Company
When a playwright dies, so often reviewers of their final work are left with the uncomfortable task of making gentle allowance for what may be, at the end of the day, not a very good play. The Huntington started off their 06-07 season with August Wilson's Radio Golf, his last play and the final in a cycle depicting the African American experience throughout the 20th century. For me, it was an incredibly thought-provoking script in a solid production, but many critics found that it paled in comparison to some of his more muscular works, missing the musical vernacular that he had become known for. It is somewhat appropriate, then, that the Huntington present Third this season, the last work by the late Wendy Wasserstein (who died a mere four months after August Wilson did), and I am all too happy to report that it is a play which serves as a true example of a "swan song".
The show, which opens with the freshness and vigor of the first day of class, centers around Laurie Jameson (Maureen Anderson,
in fine form), a literature professor at one of those elite, east-coast liberal arts schools (If Wendy was going for imitation, my friend pointed out that it could really only be Brown by name-dropping process of elimination, but I figure she was shooting for some kind of amalgam). She begins by lecturing the audience (aptly cast for a moment as her students) on the kind of classroom she runs; an open intellectual ideal that she promises is not only "hegemony-free" but also encouraging of questioning. She then precedes to render this unnecessary as she asserts upon the class her impeccably thought-out revisionist view of Shakespeare's King Lear, in which Goneril and Regan are the heroes (as opposed to the "girlified" Cordelia) who have learned to play with the big boys of Shakespeare's plot. The contradiction on display, where Laurie welcomes new opinions while being fixed in her own, pervades Wasserstein's text, and becomes a larger question for its predominantly liberal audience.
Laurie Jameson is a woman who has reached a point where she feels secure. Her daughter Emily (Halley Feiffer), is back home on a break from her separate-but-comparable Swarthmore education, her husband is starting to lift weights, and her father (warmly portrayed by Jonathon McMurty) , although slipping deeper and deeper into a mental fog, is generally docile. She feels in control, in a way that both satisfies her feminist sensibilities as well as her own taste. That is, 
until she meets her match with what may be her worst nightmare; an honest-to-god, red(state)-blooded, white, heterosexual student, brought to life with integrity by a perfectly-cast Graham Hamilton. Woodson Bull III ("Third" to his friends, "Woody" to Professor Laurie) is everything that Laurie does not expect in her cozy little collegiate nest, and when a paper of his on Lear rings untrue for her understanding of his breed (and too true for her understanding of the text), she accuses him of plagiarism. This opens up a horror house of re-examination from all sides, as Laurie fights to keep herself from being unsettled and Third struggles to find his niche in a frustratingly close-minded environment. The first act deals largely the college's examination of Third's academic integrity, with a "he said, she said", whodunit tone that keeps the audience guessing while evoking shades of John Patrick-Shanley's Doubt. This story swept me up with surprising force, and its fully-realized characters grounded the seemingly trivial conflict, but Wasserstein (as always) has bigger fish to fry. After intermission, the play opens up its scope to portray the repercussions of Laurie's heat-of-moment actions on all the characters as an autumnal chill passes over it. Nancy, a colleague of Laurie's, has lapsed from breast cancer remission, and Laurie's father's health is worsening. But make no mistake; Third does not disintegrate into a Lear-scale tragedy, as Wasserstein's signature wit and pointed insight has different aspirations. The play moves from its bright beginning through a colder, sharper place and deposits us in the end in the fresh possibilities of spring. Set against this seasonality is the question of Laurie's (and our own) ability to change at such an established point in her life.
Third is at times warm and cozy, and at others chilly and sobering; sweet, as well as bitter. It is this balance, composed by Wasserstein and sensitively presented by the entire 
that she was not restricted to characters of this age. Emily, although played by perhaps the weakest link in the cast (which is still pretty good), is a capable woman confronted with the imperfection of her mother and the feminist philosophy that she has been raised under. Third is a bright and passionate man who finds himself alienated from a supposedly progressive institution for his privilege (of both the white, male, and heterosexual persuasion), and must constantly defend his right to attend. I was reminded of a friend's lackluster attitude towards the Heidi Chronicles as he described, "There is just not much there for a heterosexual man. I just wanted to see more of that Scoop fellow." I only hope that he eventually gets to experience this truly all-inclusive story. It is unfortunate, then, that Wasserstein saddles these otherwise compelling characters with the play's most unsubtle moments; Emily when she too-baldly explains how Laurie "needed" Third to have plagiarized because of her beliefs, and Third in an awkward cafeteria address that literally has him standing on a table and accusing a thinly constructed student body soundscape of close-mindedness. But these headstrong moments (which do stick out in an otherwise seamless production) are hardly representative of the showing the 
question his presence at a small liberal arts school as well, but that eventually gave way to a genuinely sweet earnestness to fit in for a character who has never had to. The real treat is Robin Pierce Rose's
And how much of a whole it is. Under the assured and unobtrusive hand of director Richard Seer, Third flows beautifully, supported by impressive work from the entire design team. Ralph Funicello's hallowed halls of learning stand proud as classrooms, kitchens and dorms slide effortlessly in and out, all orchestrated to dignified strains of string-driven classical that sound designer Bruce Ellman sends wafting over transitions. Costume designer Robert Morgan rises to the difficult challenge of a contemporary college setting and never strikes a false note. From the calculated rebellion of Laurie's high, leather boots to the presentably generic vests and button-ups of Third's wardrobe, Morgan's work always supported the characters, and never meandered in clueless trend-dropping.
As Wasserstein once said, "Being a grownup means assuming responsibility for yourself, for you
r children, and - here's the big curve -- for your parents", and Third never loses sight of that terrifying truth. As Laurie's father lapses into senility (more than echoing, but not quite imitating the aforementioned Lear), Emily breaks away from the narrow view of success that her mother has raised her in. In so many way, Wendy acted as a mother to her viewers, and the production’s audience must now take responsibility for the disappointment and self-realization that Third is steeped in. The ambivalence of Wasserstein’s tone is echoed in the bittersweet experience of watching a beautiful play by an author whose life was abruptly cut short, not even letting her see the final third of her life that the show ultimately take its title from. But, as opposed to merely being dampening, her death has elevated the work's conclusion, making the question of "what next?" even more pertinent as she leaves her audiences, both old and new, to forge ahead without her help.
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