Andre Amarotico and Johnny Moreno Photo courtesy of The Stage

It is in conjunction with the latter that we meet Jacob McNeal (Johnny Moreno). He is under care for Stage 3 liver failure exacerbated by heavy drinking (Stage 4 is irreversible) but learns that he has just won the Nobel Prize for Literature. Will this give him something to live for?

Much like a contemporary take on Fellini's 8½, the protagonist engages with the women in his life in scenes that are dyads of him and his antagonists: a physician, insistent and demanding that he change his ways or begin a death spiral (Abigail Esfira Campbell); his literary agent, loyal but resentful of his disloyalty (Nicole Tung); an interviewing journalist, offended by his racist DEI comments and knowledgeable of his misdeeds but still admiring (Storm White); and his former lover, fiery, hurt, but still connected (Bridgette Loriaux).

The narrative is totally about the title character, and the indomitable Johnny Moreno gives a tour de force performance as is his way. His irascible, self-indulgent McNeal schlumps about the stage in oversized garments, not caring about appearance. He wobbles side to side, arms with loose and broad gesticulation as he pontificates, often denigrating those he considers undeserving. And from his well-articulated mouth and with his derisive, incisive speaking style it almost seems that he is literally chewing the scenery.

McNeal has made professional decisions of questionable integrity but stands by them, because they worked and because precedent is on his side. When it comes to borrowing from other sources, Shakespeare, like many writers, not only borrowed from and collaborated with others, but gave them no recognition. Rossini pillaged his previous operas for arias and orchestral pieces to be repurposed. Tennessee Williams mined his own life for his theatrical stories. In McNeal's case, he is confronted about his hypocrisy by his irate and alienated son (Andre Amarotico), whom he gives no quarter, indicative of the father's own rage.

It is this borrowing from others, whether authorized or not, that ties into the AI theme. Although AI makes this kind of cheating much easier, it is clear that using it inflates a past practice but does not represent a total mutation. The question is where do we draw the line? Schools at all levels are overwhelmed by AI-produced "student" papers, but what is the purpose of papers? Is there any learning that goes on by letting technology do your writing? What about an author calling on AI to produce a manuscript and claiming it as their own?

McNeal is really about life's decisions, and Jacob confronts three. The first is borrowing from others to enhance his own writing, which he has done successfully. A second concerns his personal behavior. His magnetism and notoriety attract some women as sexual partners, but his truculent ways lead to social isolation. There is no indication that he could have a friend. Finally, like all of us, he confronts the same imperfect formula of weighing how lifestyle impacts mortality. In particular, he knows that further drinking could lead to imminent demise. What is drinking worth to him?

Playwright Ayad Akhtar's narrative is largely episodic and somewhat disjointed as most secondary characters have only limited stretches of involvement with little character development. One part, Dipti (Celeste Lagrange), could easily be eliminated. Yet the narrative arc is timely and the action is sometimes riveting and poignant, yielding a worthy and telling experience. Director Randall King coordinates the scenic and aural creative contributions admirably, guides the action with precision, and extracts exemplary acting.

McNeal runs through October 19, 2025, at San Jose Stage, 490 South 1st Street, San Jose CA. For tickets and information, please visit www.thestage.org.