Final Follies is a loose confederation of three plays by the late A.R. Gurney. Widely known as “Pete,” Gurney is now firmly affixed in the lexicon of celebrated American playwrights. He wrote from first hand knowledge about WASP cultural, gleaned from his experience growing up on the right side of the tracks in Buffalo, N.Y., a once affluent and important city. These three one-acts are not his best work; that honor goes to The Cocktail Hour, Sylvia, The Dining Room, and the oft-performed Love Letters. What’s most interesting is watching a group of talented actors effectively play different roles in the vignettes. In the title play, Colin Hanlon is Nelson, a self-admitted failure who thinks he could have a future in “discreet adult films.” He professes a desire to not have to live on the allowance provided to him by his rich Grandfather (Greg Mullavey). In the process, he pursues the receptionist, Tanisha, here played by the lovely Rachel Hicks. Nelson strips down, but manages to keep on his underpants; he declares himself “a ladies’ man,” and though she protests, Tanisha is clearly interested. When Nelson’s uptight brother, Walter (Mark Junek) comes in to get the goods on his sibling, she protects him. Walter shows a porno film featuring Nelson to Gramps, who is far from scandalized, and who then appreciates Nelson, his favorite, even more. There is a happy ending to the tale…or at least, so it seems. The second play, The Rape of Bunny Stuntz, is basically a long monologue by the splendid and eternally youthful Deborah Rush. Here, she is perky in a white dress with blue flowers and a little bow for a belt. Her blonde hair looks like an up-flipped fall, held in place by the inevitable headband. She’s the chair of a community meeting—we never know for what—and has it all together until she can’t find her key to the box that holds all her notes and plans. Where can it be? She dispatches the goofy Howie Hale (Piter Marek) to go back to her home and ask her husband, but it’s a futile task. At the sighting of a mysterious stranger offstage, Bunny begins to fall apart. Most of her audience leaves, including her faithful assistant, Wilma (Betsy Aidem), who urges her to join the raucous party downstairs. As Bunny unravels further, the play draws to an ambiguous and not very satisfying end. The Love Course reunites Marek, Nicks, Hanlon, and Aidem in wildly different roles. Professor Burgess (Marek) and Professor Carroway (Aidem) are teaching a class on the great books which celebrate obsessive love. It’s obvious that they have fallen under each other’s spell, reading steamy passages aloud to each other and the students, who include the worshipful Sally (Nicks) and her hapless boyfriend, Mike (Hanlon). When Burgess must leave to go to a meeting, we find out that his wife is on the committee, and that Carroway will be leaving, having not received tenure. Of course, all hell breaks loose, in passion most fitting for the classroom topic. This is not A.R. Gurney at his best, but let’s face it. When it comes to the eccentricities of the privileged WASPs in America, nobody does it better. Well worth the rest of us eavesdropping.
