Evan Zimmerman
There is quite a theatrical box of tricks deployed in McNeal, Lincoln Center Theater’s blockbuster autumn show (through Nov. 24) starring Robert Downey Jr.—in his Broadway debut—as the titular character Jacob McNeal. This “author of renown” is also—as we would expect, knowing the all-too familiar dramatic archetypes of male novelists—a total mess, this one determined to save at least his professional status by using the most modern and controversial of technologies.
In no particular order: McNeal has liver failure, he drinks, he is cantankerous, waspish, he sympathizes with Harvey Weinstein, he has a screwed-up relationship with his son, treats women badly (apart from his agent who is a surrogate, admonishing parent), he is ickily racist towards his agent’s assistant Dipti (Saisha Talwar), and he may have stolen his dead wife’s only work of fiction as the foundation of his new novel.
He is also a supreme plagiarist, using AI to write his books using the words of others, who, at the beginning of the play, wins the much-desired Nobel Prize—indeed, the play opens with a projection of typing-by-unseen-fingers asking a search engine who will win that year’s prize. With mortality nipping at his heels, McNeal wants his reputation and legacy enshrined.
Read more at The Daily Beast.
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