Christopher Lowell on Experiencing Catharsis and Being Profoundly Inspired by June Squibb in Marjorie Prime

Christopher Lowell is watching the beauty and heartbreak of humanity play out onstage in Marjorie Prime on Broadway, and there's nowhere he'd rather be. Written by Jordan Harrison and directed by Anne Kaufman, the drama follows Marjorie, an aging woman suffering from dementia who is spending her final months with a holographic replica—a "Prime"—of her late husband, Walter. Played by Lowell, the Prime is a young, handsome, artificial intelligence-driven projection intended to serve as a companion for Marjorie. Physically identical to the person he once was, but far from sentient, Walter's "memories" are programmed through conversation. But this isn't Black Mirror; audiences aren't left with a warning about the unintended consequences of not-so-futuristic technology. Rather, the show is an exploration of mortality, memory and the inevitable grief experienced by the loved ones we leave behind.

Lowell first made a splash as Dell Parker on Private Practice, the Grey's Anatomy spinoff starring Kate Walsh along with Broadway's Audra McDonald, Taye Diggs and Idina Menzel. He credits his co-stars not only with showing him the ropes early in his career, but also instilling in him a serious interest in pursuing theater. Now, his resume includes leading roles on Netflix's GLOW and Hulu's How I Met Your Father, parts in Oscar-winning films Promising Young Woman and The Help, and a 2024 Broadway debut in the star-studded family holiday drama Cult of Love. He returns to the Hayes Theater in Marjorie Prime, joining a very different family dynamic featuring June Squibb, Cynthia Nixon and Danny Burstein. Hours before the show's second preview performance, Lowell opened up to Broadway.com about his approach to playing an A.I. character, sharing the stage with theater titans and why Harrison's script strikes such a chord.

Did you always know that you wanted to act?
I always wanted to be an actor. In kindergarten when the teacher asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" People would say things like, "I want to be a firefighter," or a doctor, or a vet or an astronaut. I thought that as an actor, I could be all of those things. At the time, I thought that if I saw an actor doing that on a TV show or in a movie, that they actually were those things. I loved this idea that I could do all these different things. But growing up in Atlanta, it seemed so farfetched. I decided that I wanted to study all facets of the process: writing, directing, cinematography, photography. That was my goal when I went to college in Los Angeles. And then very quickly and serendipitously—mercilessly, whatever you want to call it—I started working as an actor. And I just never looked back.

Can you talk about some of your earliest jobs?
Private Practice, I really learned a lot on that job. I was the baby brother on that show, and it was the first time I was working with grownups. They taught me so much about how to carry myself on set and how to be a professional, and also how to have a family and still do this, how to be a grownup and still do this. It was also around that time that it started to come into focus for me how important it was that I do more theater. I was working with Audra McDonald, Taye Diggs, Kate Walsh and Tim Daly, who have done a ton of theater. It started to become very clear to me that that was where the rubber meets the road when it comes to really honing your skills as an actor, so it then became my focus to try and get to New York to really throw myself into that scene. Then I got to New York, and it took me a while to convince them to let me actually get on stage, but that's part of the process too.

It's crazy to think about how many Broadway stars were on Private Practice now that you point it out.
It's so f**king crazy. I had no idea the legend that is Audra McDonald until way too late. One of the most humbling experiences of all time was when we did the first season [in 2008], and there was a writer's strike. T.R. Knight sent an email out like, "Let's do a fundraiser to raise money for the crew. If anybody can sing or play an instrument, write me back and I'll count you in." I was 22 years old. I thought this was going to be a party at Shonda [Rhimes'] house and we were all going to pass around a hat and throw money in it, and everybody was going to sing songs or whatever. So I was like, "Yeah, I can sing and play an instrument." Then he ends up selling out Royce Hall [in Los Angeles]. We go to do sound check, and it's Audra, Sara Ramírez, Idina Menzel—just this smorgasbord of crazy musical talent. And then I got up on stage, and wow was that humbling. The nickname they gave our band was Flatline, to give you a sense of how much confidence any of us had going into it. It was a big lesson. That's when I realized Audra is in a league of her own.

Was it at all reminiscent of the music you played in Cult of Love?
Oh my God. In Cult of Love I played the most ridiculous instruments. I played the harmonica, I played the melodica, which is just the most humiliating instrument, and I played some percussion—usually offbeat.

But in character, offbeat.
Yes, thank you. That's very important. Intentionally offbeat.

Do you keep in touch with any of them at all?
Oh, yeah. When I moved to New York, Audra and Shonda both wrote letters of recommendations for my first apartment. They're huge supporters. They're very sweet, they're very good to me. I see Audra in everything. Any time any of them are on stage, I make an effort. There's just nothing like live theater, and seeing those actors on stage is always really inspiring for me.

How do you balance being in New York doing theater with your work in film and television?
I like to think that I can play in all these different sandboxes. When I feel myself spending too much time in one, I'll try and jump into another. The first play I did professionally here [in New York] was called Jacuzzi, at Ars Nova. And the moment I did that, I knew that I would always have to keep doing plays. There was a lot of blowback I got when I left Los Angeles; I had a lot of people telling me that I was making a huge mistake, and I was putting the brakes on my career by leaving to go do plays in 90-seat theaters that no one's going to see. What I love is that in fact what happened is that play, Jacuzzi, is the reason I got cast in GLOW. [Creators] Liz Flahive and Carly Mensch were both part of the playwriting group at Ars, and they offered me the job based on that performance. And the reason I have the job I have right now [in Marjorie Prime] is because of that same play, which was 11 years ago. [Director] Anne Kaufman referenced it right out of the gate when I got cast. So there's something about that I'll always hold on to, I think.

Now you can tell your friends back in L.A. that you told them so.
Yeah, joke's on you! But I also think they all serve different purposes, and have very different rhythms. I love the run and gun nature of making a movie, that there's this finite amount of time that you're telling this story with these people and there's only one script that you're working off of. With television, it's much more of a marathon, and that's an interesting speed to adjust to. But you can really delve deep. I think about my arc on GLOW, and I could not have asked for a better, more fulfilling, dynamic storyline—and that would not have happened had we only done the first season. It took the unfolding of the seasons to really allow this character to grow. And then with a play, the relationship with the audience and being able to tell the whole story in order, that to me is the most fun. When you do film and TV, you're shooting it all out of order. You have no say over which take they use. Maybe I give the performance of a lifetime and they decide to do a close-up of my co-star the entire time, or they cut the scene, or they put some cheesy music underneath it and it dips it too far into being precious. I have no control over that. I don't get to go on the ride of the story until I see the final product. With a play, you're a part of shaping that every single night. And I love that.

What resonates most with you about Marjorie Prime's script?
I think when talking about A.I., there are so many shallow, surface level ways to explore it. Were this play written in the last three months, maybe it could have been susceptible to some of those traps. The fact that Jordan [Harrison] wrote it over a decade ago is kind of hard to imagine. But the subjects that he's interested in exploring are, to me, much more human and relatable. Even though it's a play that has to do with A.I., really the whole play is about the human need to connect with other people. It's just remarkable. And then this cast is stupefying. I mean, what am I doing in this play? Last night was our first preview, and understandably, every time an actor walks on stage, there's entrance applause. June Squibb walks out there, you're like, "Hell yeah, I want to clap." Cynthia Nixon, Danny Burstein, it's insane. And then there's me. Talk about the rookie.

I'm sure you also got very loud applause.
I'm just glad I get to stand next to them when we bow. It's so easy to only talk about June's age, so it's important for me to say independent of anything else that June Squibb is an incredibly talented actor, and a wonderful human being. In addition to that, watching a 96-year-old actor treading the boards eight shows a week, off book, is simply extraordinary and profoundly inspiring. And no one has a better view of that than I do. What a gift just to marvel at it. That was an unexpected bonus of doing the show. I feel like I'm punching above my weight in the best way. It makes you a better fighter. I'm in here sparring with the greats. Trying to keep up with Cynthia… We did a play together a decade ago, and I fell in love with her on that job. She's so specific and so intelligent. She asks great questions and no one can turn it on the way that she can. It's remarkable to watch. When Danny was in Cabaret, I took pictures of him in his dressing room. He'd just found out he was cast in Fiddler on the Roof, he had a first edition copy of the play. I hadn't seen Danny in person since then. I mean, I saw him on stage. But when we first got this, I humbly was like, "Hey, we met 11 years ago. I took your picture." And he's like, "I have that photograph framed on my wall in my house. I love it so much. Thank you for taking it." You will be hard pressed to find a kinder human being than Danny Burstein.

It's early on in the run, but with Marjorie Prime's heavy subject matter, how do you decompress? Does the material stick with you after you go home?
A lot of that weight I felt during rehearsal, because that's when you're really exploring these questions. You have the time to be like, "Are you afraid of death? Are you afraid of dying? How do we feel about X, Y?" We had a lot of these frank and vulnerable conversations during rehearsal, and those stuck with me. I'd be missing my stop on the subway because I'd be wrapped up in some mind-boggling, powerful statement that June just off the cuff released as she was walking out the door to say goodnight. Her, Danny, Cynthia, Anne and Jordan—and I'd like to believe myself—we all shared a lot of personal truths that really resonated with each other, and also with the material. But in terms of the show itself, I think part of the reason it's easier to shake it off is because I've gotten to go on the whole ride. I've had my catharsis, I've had the whole experience. I don't know what it'll be like with this show because we just started performances, but I remember with Cult, there would be times where I would leave the theater and people would, with tears in their eyes, talk about how relevant this was, how this was so much like their family. Seeing the effect it has on people definitely affects me as well.

What kind of conversations do you think people will have after this show?
Anybody who's coming to the show thinking it's going to be some kind of steeped in sci-fi, techy thing, is way off. My uncle John came last night to see it and afterwards we started talking about my grandmother, his mother, who's 92, and both of us just burst into tears. I don't want to scare people away by saying that it's so heavy, because that's not what it is. I don't think you're going to walk out of the play being like, "Wow, A.I. really does have this effect on me." I think you're going to walk out of the play and be like, "Wow, I really am going to miss my mother when she's gone. I really am going to miss these people." It really asks of the audience too. You're given the opportunity to examine your own feelings about grief and death and legacy and peace. And for my character over the course of the play—I play a Prime start to finish—my journey is to, almost like Pinocchio, want to achieve sentience, want to be a person, want to be a human. Part of the way that that is achieved is by processing and experiencing and witnessing the hardships of mortality, the heartbreak, and it's beautiful in that sense.

How did you approach playing the character of Walter, who is a Prime?
This is easily the hardest role I've played, entirely because it short circuits my process as an actor. Every actor has a little superpower, and I think one of mine is empathy. I'm really good at empathizing with my characters, even when my characters are scumbags. Normally, a barometer for myself of if I'm doing a good job or not is if I'm able to really get lost in the moment, and see this co-star as my beloved wife, this person that I have history with. But because I am playing A.I., it's not my beloved wife. Do I even feel empathy? Am I just a computer? Do I have my own feelings and thoughts? I understand that I am meant to try and make Marjorie comforted, but what is my relationship to the other characters in the play? These were things that were really difficult for me to navigate. And it's hard to keep it consistent. As I learn more, do I grow, do I mature? I'm saying this as if I know the answers to any of these questions, which I do not. That's what is really exciting, albeit completely terrifying, about doing previews, is trying to navigate that balance. I have to be all of those things at once. With Anne, the director, we've been trying to find this fine line between being not too human, but also not too removed from humanity.

Do you try to answer these questions differently during different performances, or is that not your process?
It is my process, but I'm having to fight against that at times. Last night, as an A.I., I'm watching Danny deliver this absolutely devastating monologue and I'm getting choked up. And I'm like, "You're not supposed to get choked up, dude. Get it together. This is not your moment." It's so important that in that moment, he's delivering this very human moment to a vacant A.I. It's been really challenging, but also that's the fun part. It's boring to do something easy, so I really like the challenge. And also, I'm scared shitless, and before curtain the last two nights I've thought about pulling the fire alarm and running home.

Well, I'm glad you didn't.
I didn't, and I won't, I promise that will not happen. And I've got these amazing actors to keep me afloat, thank god.

I'm sure you're holding your own.
I'm holding my own.

Do you plan to go back to writing and directing as well?
I'll direct again. I'm developing a film right now. We're pretty cast up, we've got the script. I wrote and directed a film in 2014 that Tribeca put out, Beside Still Waters, with a great cast led by Emmy Award winner Britt Lower. Britt and Beck Bennett, Jessy Hodges, Reid Scott, it was a great group of young actors. I was 25 years old when we made it. Again, talk about a different sandbox. There's something so healing to my actor self when I think about directing, because I get to talk to an actor the way that I wish a director would talk to me.

Both Cult of Love and Promising Young Woman have moments of comedy, but deal with intense subject matter. Do you lean more toward serious roles?
I love the variety. I love comedy that comes out of sincerity. That is so much of what both Promising Young Woman and Cult of Love had in spades. There's no joke on the page. I mean, I had a f**king panic attack on Promising Young Woman. We got there and on my first day, we shot the last scene of the movie, my stuff with Carey [Mulligan]. I remember meeting Carey, who's absolutely wonderful, and talking to her like, "Why this script? What was it that attracted you to this?" Her response was like, "Everything I do is so dark and dreary, and this was so funny and crazy." And I'm looking through this script—my pages—being like, "Funny? Funny? Where the f**k is the comedy?" I do think my scene is kind of the moment in the movie where it stops being funny. But then the next day I start shooting with Max Greenfield, who comes in and throws her dead corpse arm out of the way so he could hold my face in his. It's insane. It wasn't like I was playing for jokes in any of those moments. What I loved about Cult—and I felt this way on GLOW as well—is there's nothing better than being able to do it all. I got to sing, be very funny and have a true emotional catharsis. What more could I ask for?

There's a Cult of Love film adaptation in the works—would you consider reprising the role?
I think it's such a great story to tell. I don't know if it would be with us, or if it would be a completely different [cast]. I would want to experience it again in any capacity, even if it was just as an audience member. It's so wonderful to be making something that actually touches people the way that play did, the way that [Marjorie Prime] will. This play is one of the most breathtaking pieces of writing I've ever read. It knocked me out when I first read the script. I just think it's such a beautiful play.

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