It's the age of artificial intelligence, and 86-year-old Marjorie - a jumble of disparate, fading memories - has a handsome new companion who's programmed to feed the story of her life back to her. What would we remember, and what would we forget, if given the chance? In this richly spare, wondrous new play, Jordan Harrison explores the mysteries of human identity and the limits - if any - of what technology can replace.
For all the grief boiling over in Marjorie Prime, I walked away yearning to be more thoroughly wounded. But Harrison's script is less interested in piercing the heart than it is the mind. It's much too busy prodding at the bounds of humanity. What makes us who we are? How much can we rely on technology? Can it soothe us, numb us, replace us completely? Marjorie Prime offers few clear-cut answers, but does make one thing clear: There is no replacement for the power of human love and connection. And the absence of that is what keeps this show from truly leaving a mark on its crowd. Grade: B
At its core, “Marjorie Prime” tells a simple kitchen-sink story of two adults trying to care for an aging relative. Harrison tries to up the ante by dipping into his gothic drawer of horrors to deliver not one but two suicides that push the human narrative into the contrived. In the end, the machines are more honest than the humans and, better yet, there’s none of the angst.
| 2015 | Off-Broadway |
Playwrights Horizons Original Off-Broadway Production Off-Broadway |
| 2023 | West End |
West End |
| 2025 | Broadway |
Broadway |
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