Good writers borrow, great writers steal. Jacob McNeal (Robert Downey Jr.) is a great writer, one of our greatest, a perpetual candidate for the Nobel Prize in Literature. But McNeal also has an estranged son, a new novel, old axes to grind and an unhealthy fascination with Artificial Intelligence. Pulitzer Prize-winner Ayad Akhtar’s new play is a startling and wickedly smart examination of the inescapable humanity – and increasing inhumanity – of the stories we tell.
Or does he? It’s hard to know. Nothing in McNeal is convincing: The characters are thin, the timelines are off, the situations are at once implausible and cliché. (When McNeal is negotiating his contract, he is shown a big number on a cell phone—barely a step up from a folded paper slid across a table.) The play’s middle scenes—McNeal’s lurid confrontation with his son (Rafi Gavron) and an off-the-rails interview with a young, Black New York Times reporter (Brittany Bellizeare)—ring utterly false, and the actors elsewhere seem flat: Andrea Martin as McNeal’s agent, Ruthie Ann Miles as his doctor, Melora Hardin as his former mistress. McNeal is the only one with any dimension, but neither his dialogue nor Downey's guarded, petulant delivery suggest the charm that others impute to him. Dressed in a writerly uniform of corduroy blazer and jeans, he’s a standard-issue manchild; the play feels a bit like spending 90 minutes with Bill Maher on a crabby day.
That doesn’t make for a particularly dynamic play; aside from long conversations, nothing happens. McNeal doesn’t emerge at the end of the play having experienced a change for better or worse. None of the characters reach a new connection with him. It’s unresolved, empty and pointless – just an opportunity to see a movie star on stage.
2024 | Broadway |
Lincoln Center Theater Broadway Premiere Producion Broadway |
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