Paul Weitz has an ear tuned to a very specific channel: the grumblings of the immature man-boy. In his recent film, “In Good Company,” a callow Topher Grace learned about real manhood from Dennis Quaid, while in the films “American Pie” and “About a Boy,” the line between childhood and maturity was even blurrier. In his play “Privilege,” commissioned by Second Stage, Mr. Weitz again dives into the minds of wealthy white boys coming of age – a pool of material that this time proves perilously shallow for the stage.

There is no doubt that Mr. Weitz’s words would fit comfortably in a teenager’s mouth; the posse of applauding teens behind me could testify to its accuracy. But without a goosing of wit or plot, eavesdropping on boy-talk feels numbingly banal. Even in the most realistic, kitchen sink drama, a playwright needs to shape and heighten events while hiding behind the “realistic” style. Mr. Weitz waits too long between events, fails to capitalize on dramatic momentum, and, most dangerously, never convinces us to invest.

We first meet 16-year-old Porter (Harry Zittel) and his 12-year-old brother Charlie (Conor Donovan) in Porter’s Upper East Side bedroom – spacious, well-appointed, and kept tidy by the maid. Bored, but not so bored that Antigua sounds like a good idea, the boys give their mother (Carolyn McCormick) guff, each other guff, and the maid (Florencia Lozano) guff. Disaster strikes when their father Ted (Bob Saget) gets arrested for junk-bonds dealing (or some other ’80s era offense). Will the boys adjust to bunk beds? Will they lean on each other and find a way to forgive their father? Not an iota of suspense slips through this blocky plot; sitting through it is simply an exercise in waiting for the inevitable.

Mr. Weitz, whose own upbringing echoes the luxurious first act, writes what he knows, saying Porter’s character was inspired loosely by autobiography. A healthy dose of self-hatred certainly seems to dog poor Porter’s steps – for good reason. Irritatingly convinced that coolness lies in pinning message-buttons to his prep-school blazer, Porter’s whining, posturing, and hazy grasp of communism should make any former teenager twitch with self-consciousness. Less recognizable is Charlie, who even at 12, clucks like a mother hen, wiser and more in touch than his doltish, coltish brother.

Director Peter Askin doesn’t maintain much pace – the bedroom scene between Ms. McCormick and Mr. Saget kills both the show’s forward movement and the “boy’s-eye-view” conceit – but he makes it up in his work with the two child actors. To his and their credit, Mr. Zittel and Mr. Donovan almost overcome the dyspeptic dramatic structure by performing without vanity. Had the play fit itself into a darker, less television ready mold, perhaps these boys could have shown us “Neil LaBute goes to Choate.” If Mr. Weitz can just scrub off some of that Hollywood syrup and re-discover the miracle of plotting, that play might reach us yet.

***

Walking out of “Privilege,” feeling vague dissatisfaction and already forgetting great patches of it, I hankered for a play that would provoke some strong emotion, even if it made me angry. “Luminescence Dating” was the answer to that prayer. Logical hiccup follows intellectual shortcut follows emotional letdown in Carey Perloff’s new piece, commissioned by the Ensemble Studio Theatre. Rarely does a play inspire such frothing, fuming anger on my part, such a lot of throwing-up-of-hands and harrumphing while the show proceeds.

To make a full disclosure, some of my favorite family members are classicists, and Ms. Perloff treats the profession with confusion and contempt. Archaeologists do not make “major finds” one day and then smuggle important pieces of sculpture out of digs the next. They may be petty occasionally, and the battle over the slide-room can get ugly, but Ms. Perloff has them disregarding every basic rule of research and mouthing self-help platitudes that impinge directly on their scholarly credibility.

In a dank basement, lined with shards of exhumed pottery, Angela (Betsy Aidem) watches her life’s work slip through her fingers. A specific statue, a Praxiteles Aphrodite, has eluded her for decades, and her last related grant may soon dry up. Ex-lover and fellow archaeologist Nigel (John Wojda) may have found something relating to her quest, but their personal troubles cloud any possible collaboration.

Ms. Perloff has pitched her cap for Tom Stoppard and fallen woefully short. Certainly she casts classical allusions around like confetti and tries to make personal drama out of academic argument, but she hasn’t got the knack for intellectual gymnastics. Twists are telegraphed, the central puzzle is solved practically at random. The piece only apes braininess, and waiting for characters to catch up to us is no way to spend an evening.

“Privilege” until May 15 (307 W. 43rd Street, at Eighth Avenue, 212-246-4422).

“Luminescence Dating” until May 15 (549 W. 52nd Street, between Tenth and Eleventh Avenues, 212-247-3405).