To be perfectly blunt, a good editor/agent/friend would have stopped this play from seeing the light of common day. This may be the single worst thing ever written by a Pulitzer-winning playwright. Or even by most other playwrights. There is an old adage about writing what you know about, right? I've always thought it was a silly adage, but in this case the decision to write Old Money causes all of her faults as a playwright writing for the commercial stage to come sharply into focus. Again, bluntly, she is utterly unconvincing as a sort of ersatz Edith Wharton (to whom Wasserstein invites comparison in this edition's introduction). All of the WASPS dart about with names like Vivian and Ovid, either maundering on about their past (the Vivian character) or what robber barons they are (his grandfather). But no one, and I mean no one, talks remotely like a human being. Also, and I don't mean to be picky (SPOILER ALERT), but there is a major party occurring in the modern section of the play, and yet no one other than her chosen characters is ever seen. That must be some mansion.
The whole "Let's Do the Time Warp Again!" conceit isn't all that difficult to sort out, although I'll bet it made life merry hell in the wings for the actors. But even there --- characters are singing songs from the Gilded Age. The play is set in 1917. There are a lot of moments like that.
Wasserstein's reputation will rest on Uncommon Women, Heidi and Isn't It Romantic, as well as her essays. It is possible that had she lived, she might have carved out new areas to explore, but her life was tragically short.