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Review: Robert Downey Jr is Undeniably Real in McNeal
September 30, 2024, 10:57.54 pm ET

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Photo: MurphyZimmerman

By Brian Scott Lipton

Given what I learned about the uses (and misuses) of AI (artificial intelligence) during Ayad Akthar’s “McNeal” – and given that I had my own dealings with AI just as I began to write this review (dealing with an annoying Facebook bot selling fake t-shirts) – I considered letting ChatGPT take its best shot at reviewing this rather muddled one-act play, now at Lincoln Center’s Vivian Beaumont Theatre under Bartlett Sher’s solid-enough direction.

But rest assured, every word you’re about to read is my own.

Of course, the three most important words here are Robert Downey Jr, and any doubt that this big-screen megastar (and 2024 Oscar winner) doesn’t have the stage chops to command the audience’s attention for 95 minutes are quickly dispelled. We immediately watch his character, novelist Jacob McNeal, spar like a champion with his concerned doctor Sahra Grewal (Ruthie Ann Miles, always welcome but given nothing to do), who becomes the bearer of both truly terrible and incredibly wonderful news in just a few minutes.

Using his almost-patented secret recipe of obnoxiousness mixed with irresistible charm and off-beat handsomeness (plus an erratic East Texas accent), Downey quickly limns this almost archetypal character: a celebrated, egotistical and deeply neurotic writer who is guided by pride (or shall we say “hubris”) and guilt – perhaps in equal measure -- and determined to both challenge and accept death at every turn.

Surprisingly though, given Akhtar’s skill as a playwright (he won the Pulitzer Prize for the superior “Disgraced”), McNeal doesn’t really grow much throughout the play. Indeed, his personality and his demons seem fixed even as his locations change -- traveling between New York City, upstate New York and Sweden -- while dealing with circumstances wanted and unwanted, expected and unexpected. (The sometimes wonderfully detailed and somewhat more abstract sets are all by the great Michael Yeargan.)

We watch McNeal as he accepts his long-awaited Nobel Prize, banters with his New York agent-cum-surrogate Jewish mother Stephie (Andrea Martin, providing some much-needed comic relief), flirts with her newest assistant Dipti (an appealing Saisha Talwar), rips open a long-held family secret with his emotionally wounded adult son (a sympathetic Ravi Gavron), spars with the young New York Times reporter writing his magazine profile (an excellent Brittany Bellizeare) as he debuts his new novel “Evie,” and ultimately confronts his less-than-forgiving former lover, Francine (a luminous Melora Hardin).

McNeal’s emotions do change – anger, despair, remorse, resignation – but the man never really does. Would the character feel different in hands other than Downey’s? It’s honestly hard to tell.

The only thing that seemingly changes over time is McNeal’s fascination with AI, which he uses not only to create his books (as it turns out), but to craft some very personal words as well. Co-set designer and projection designer Jake Barton pulls out a lot of technical stops, with text prompts on the wall, nearly psychedelic screens, and at least one or two coups de theatre that offer significant visual appeal.

But ultimately, I am unsure of what Akhtar wants us to take away from the play’s obsession with this newish technology. Most writers (like myself) are terrified that AI will eventually replace us. Oddly, Akhtar makes the case for this prediction coming true, “McNeal,” but also preaches a kind of “what me, worry?” sort of acceptance rather than sounding the alarm.

Perhaps, the work’s ultimate moral is don’t believe everything you read (or see). I knew that a long time ago. So did you! Still, I wrote this review, but maybe ChatGPT wrote “McNeal”?

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