Broadway this season has been unusually quiet, with few shows capturing real attention—but then comes Marjorie Prime, a quiet storm that stops you in your tracks. Jordan Harrison’s play, now making its Broadway debut at the Helen Hayes Theater, is a stunning meditation on memory, love, and artificial intelligence—and it is nothing short of brilliant. With June Squibb leading the cast, this is a production that reminds audiences why theater can be transformative.
There’s no flash, no spectacle, just a deeply intimate story that grips you from the first moment. Squibb plays 85-year-old Marjorie, whose companion is Walter, an A.I. “Prime” recreation of her late husband in his 30s, portrayed with quiet perfection by Christopher Lowell. Watching them interact is hypnotic: every gesture, every glance, every hesitant word feels heavy with longing, loss, and tender humor. It’s mesmerizing, heart-wrenching, and achingly human.
The premise may seem futuristic, but Harrison uses it as a lens to explore grief, identity, and what it means to be remembered. The A.I. Primes are eerily lifelike, yet imperfect—highlighting both the beauty and the fragility of memory. Humor is subtly threaded through the dialogue, giving the play lightness without undermining its emotional power. In a slow season where few shows truly matter, Marjorie Prime feels urgent, relevant, and absolutely necessary.
Director Anne Kauffman’s approach is flawless: restrained, elegant, and emotionally precise. She lets the story breathe, trusting the audience to feel the weight of every interaction. Lee Jellinek’s set—a simple midcentury living room in muted greens—is perfectly understated, while Ben Stanton’s lighting and Daniel Kluger’s sound design add just the right emotional cues without ever stealing focus from the performers.
Squibb is simply phenomenal. Her Marjorie is playful, mischievous, and deeply poignant, bringing layers of charm and humanity that feel effortless. Christopher Lowell makes Walter achingly real, balancing robotic precision with touches of warmth and vulnerability. Cynthia Nixon and Danny Burstein are magnetic as Tess and Jon, a couple wrestling with grief and the fragile threads of memory. Each performance is subtle but unforgettable; in this quiet season, their talent shines like a beacon.
What makes Marjorie Prime extraordinary is its emotional resonance. The play tackles profound questions about memory, mortality, and human connection with a gentle, light touch, never feeling heavy-handed. The final scene, staged on a revolving platform, is cinematic in scope and emotionally devastating—an intimate, visual metaphor for the cycles of life, memory, and love.
In a Broadway season that has been slow and forgettable, Marjorie Prime is a revelation. It proves that theater doesn’t need glitter or spectacle to hit hard. This is a show that makes you laugh, makes you cry, and makes you think about what it means to be human long after you leave the theater.
If you see only one play this season, make it this one. June Squibb and the entire cast deliver performances that will linger in your mind—and your heart—for weeks. Broadway may be quiet right now, but Marjorie Prime roars with quiet brilliance.
Running through Feb. 15 at the Helen Hayes Theater.
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