‘ANOTHER ANTIGONE’ IN SAN DIEGO : CONFLICT OF INTERESTS IN ACADEME

There is such a thing as the deliberate pursuit of perilous subjects through careful and conscious writing that does its best to appear subconscious.

In “Another Antigone,” which opened Sunday at the Old Globe’s Cassius Carter Centre Stage, playwright A. R. Gurney almost pulls it off. (A massive power failure in Balboa Park scuttled the scheduled Saturday night premiere.)

In a challenging 1 hour and 45 minutes, he provides plenty to give us pause. Dangerous views, like spooks, are raised and deflected off equally dangerous conflicts. The unbending contenders at opposite ends of the spectrum are a dyed-in-the-wool WASP professor of Greek drama (George Grizzard) at a Boston university and his bright, spoiled Jewish student (Marissa Chibas). Their ensuing intellectual clash is gladiatorial.

Student writes a trashy modern version of “Antigone” protesting the nuclear arms race that professor rejects as sophomoric instead of Sophoclean. From such simple beginnings, complex issues multiply.

The professor is a flinty New Englander, a tough breed of philosopher, allergic to the laxness of his times. Student Judy Miller is the arrogant product of those times: brash, self-important, unaccustomed to not having her way. Their collision is assured.

Had Gurney left it at that we would have had another cross-generational conflict play of only relative consequence. But he goes further, compounding the conflict by enlarging the dimensions of its context. And embroidering.

This university is on a dedicated path of declining standards--more anxious to please its patrons than to educate their children. Judy Miller’s parents are major supporters here and the antiquated professor’s enrollment only keeps dropping.

He also has a classroom habit of contrasting ancient philosophies--the Greek, which he finds admirable with its emphasis on community, as opposed to the “private conscience” ethos of the Jews. It’s strictly an academic position, but he’s also told the occasional ethnic joke--badly--and somehow, the Jewish students don’t like it. It’s . . . disquieting in the face of prospective contributors lost.

If this sounds contrived, it is--but skillfully and unabashedly and with a twist. Gurney, like his professor, is a persuasive weaver of words. His arguments shine and he chooses his supporting players wisely. There is the Dean of Humane Studies (Debra Mooney), a compassionate pragmatist who once had an unsuccessful weekend fling with the professor and tries to show him the need to change his ways. And there is Judy Miller’s boyfriend Dave (Steven Flynn), a deceptively bright fellow, very good at smoothing ruffled feathers. They are the lifeguards in the play’s crosscurrents. They are also the sous-chefs in the kitchen, stirring in the spice of other opinions.

Ultimately, this is not a clash of opposites at all, but a resounding crash of like against like, to the destruction (or instruction?) of both. Gurney calls it “the archetypal conflict of a man who insists on rigid rules and a woman who insists on breaking them.” But that leaves out the crucial fact that her insistence is just as rigid and self-consuming as his. It is not only a fascinating and literate unspooling to watch, but hugely absorbing.

There are looser ends at the conclusion than one might have wished for, more in Judy Miller’s case than the professor’s. He, after all, understands tragedy and the role of fatal flaws, but does she? The small cast has been superbly chosen. Despite an occasional stumble over a line Sunday, Grizzard gives a classic performance, with a rigidity worthy of Creon in its sternness--and a majesty worthy of Oedipus in its fall.

Chibas plays the smiling princess with a grip of steel and Mooney’s Dean is aptly fraught with frailties, her compromises in mortal combat with her dignity. But it is Flynn as Judy’s boyfriend who grows most in his role, from a deceptively ordinary kid to a fellow with real backbone in the end. All admirably navigate the tiny Carter stage (and Steven Rubin’s resourcefully evocative set) under John Tillinger’s measured direction.

Performances in Balboa Park continue Tuesdays through Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays 7 p.m., with matinees Saturdays and Sundays at 2 p.m., until May 3 (619-239-2255).