Zane Williams
Brian Mani and Karen Moeller deliver nuanced portrayals of a husband and wife struggling with issues of mortality.
Episodes of Battlestar Galactica, Black Mirror, Westworld and Electric Dreams explore various permutations of the question: What does it mean to be human? They’re all excellent shows with high production values, oftentimes delving into freaky examinations of humans interacting with human-like robots.
I have loved them all, but I think I’ve reached a point of saturation: Call it Robot Fatigue Syndrome.
That’s why it’s unfortunate that Jordan Harrison’s script for Marjorie Prime, which was adapted into a movie starring Lois Smith and Jon Hamm in 2017, seems to cover little new ground. The strongest asset in this production from Forward Theater Company, running through April 22 at Overture Center’s Playhouse, is the cast.
When the lights come up on the sterile and vaguely futuristic set, Marjorie (Judy Kimball) is getting reacquainted with her husband Walter (Michael Huftile). You have to forgive him for being a little stiff. He’s actually a “prime,” a cyborg recreation of a considerably younger version of Walter. And Marjorie, who suffers from dementia, relies on him to keep her memories alive. Marjorie’s adult daughter Tess (Karen Moeller) is an impatient skeptic, while her husband Jon (Brian Mani) provides positive reinforcement and kindness to Marjorie and Tess, who both need a shoulder to lean on.
“I’ll be right here,” says cyber Walter, smoothing Marjorie through some rough times and quietly sitting in the corner until she requests his presence. As the show progresses through time, we learn about some painful memories that are being suppressed from Marjorie; Walter only shares what he’s been told. This introduces some ethical questions regarding who controls the information, especially when people come to rely on the cyborgs to fill in their own imperfect memories.
As the story progresses, Marjorie quietly moves out of the frame, and Tess is left to confront her demons with the aid of a robot mom. Moeller’s palpable sadness and anguish contrast with her later portrayal of a prime, which sparkles with innocent blankness. And as Jon, Mani (an American Players Theatre veteran) is extremely moving as a genial husband, son-in-law and father who collapses from the weight of trying to take care of everyone’s needs.
In many ways, the cast’s flexibility and Jennifer Uphoff Gray’s fine direction help elevate the weak script, although I wonder if it might have been a stronger choice if Walter Prime had seemed more human and less robotic.
The weakest link is the Hallmark channel-style original music, which not only evokes a New Age spa, but also undercuts the possibility of amping up the anxiety. Something futuristic or edgy would have benefitted the production greatly, instead of reinforcing the tired premise.
In any case, Marjorie Prime allows us a chance to see some of Madison’s finest professional actors exploring a topic that isn’t going away.
