Thornton Wilder’s The Skin Of Our Teeth, despite having won a Pulitzer, is a play that’s hard to appreciate on anything more than an intellectual level. It’s clear the author’s intent (mostly a commentary on the devastation of war and how we’re destined to repeat our mistakes). There are more than a few clever literary allusions, many of them Biblical. The play’s dour, end-of-the-world message certainly resonates in contemporary times. And you have to give the playwright credit for being “meta” long before the term was popularized, as he teasingly toys with narration, setting the show in a play within a play where it’s easy to forget he’s doing so until we’re abruptly interrupted by the musings of a histrionic actress.

But these are the kinds of observations that come after the fact, when reflecting on the work. In the moment, The Skin of Our Teeth is epically long, with a smirking clever tone that rarely translates into funny. Its characters are neither wholly sympathetic nor fascinatingly amoral. It’s the kind of play that when you’re watching it, it kinda feels like homework.