Deep Fake review: Kevin McGahern’s quick wit is the show’s saving grace

Deep Fake

Civic Theatre, Tallaght

★★★☆☆

Last March, playwright Niall Austin created a one-time show called PL-AI, which, riding the wave of the artificial intelligence furore earlier this year, introduced audiences to a simple idea: what happens when you invite artificial intelligence to spice up your evening of theatre?

A Shakespearean sonnet about Enoch Burke trapped outside a school was what happened.

“Fair school unlock thy gates and let me in!”

It was a hoot.

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ChatGPT – an advanced online chatbot with the ability to spontaneously create poems, scenes and entire plays – allowed the audience to suggest characters, locations, plot points and dark twists. Suitably bizarre suggestions gave way to a hilarious offering, and minor hiccups aside, the mind boggled at the possibilities.

On Wednesday evening, Austin returned with Deep Fake, presumably a successor to PL-AI, and this time he promised the use of “biometric facial technology”, allowing the cast to “assume the roles of legends of the international screen and stage”. As the audience strolled into the theatre (which was blaring Kraftwerk from its speakers), we were told by artistic director Donal Shiels that this was very much an experiment.

Former Republic of Telly host Kevin McGahern was our guide for the evening, mediating the space between the audience, ChatGPT and the actors on stage. He put it more succinctly: “This could all go completely tits up tonight, so bear with us.”

The cast of four included Aoife Spratt, Stephen Jones, Vlad Gurdis and Bronwen Barrett. With the actors on stage, McGahern stood flanked by a large screen near the audience that displayed ChatGPT. He gathered suggestions from the uninitiated crowd, and soon the computer did its thing.

One actor stepped into the middle, in front of a smartphone placed on a stand, and soon his face was filtered into an odd depiction of Mother Teresa and projected on to the wall behind, talking about the best deals at Tesco in the style of Samuel Beckett.

Next up is Princess Diana. Lord save us. We suggest a rap about Brennans Bread and Brexit, which was about as bizarre as you’d expect

“I’m always keen about feeding the hungry. Who isn’t hungry for a good deal?” she grumbled. One audience member said she looked more like ET.

“If your offended by what this chatbot writes, don’t cancel us, cancel it,” McGahern quipped.

Next we were told it’s Einstein, and soon we endured a caricatured lecture on the benefits of Jazzercise and jam, as per the audience’s suggestion. Though the technology is momentarily a novelty, the digital face filter is more akin to a cheap phone app than a believable “deep fake” seen across the internet.

Next up is Princess Diana. We suggest a rap about Brennans Bread and Brexit, which was about as bizarre as you’d expect: “Nations may change, borders might shift, but Brennans stay classic and give my morning a lift!”

During the rap, a brief flash on the digital filter prompted sudden hoots of laughter from various corners of the hall. “Surely not?” I turned to my plus-one in bemusement. Just a few beats later, it happened again: a momentary ‘glitch’ in the software revealed Lady Di’s fully animated breasts. It was not where we expected the evening to go. McGahern did warn us.

Thankfully, the evening soon ditched the cheap phone filters – it was a bit of a gimmick anyway – and reverted to a more traditional performance

Another speech from Margaret Thatcher about giving back the six counties was unnerving to say the least. “I don’t remember Margaret Thatcher being so sensual,” said McGahern in reaction. “It’s like she’s doing OnlyFans.” McGahern’s quick wit at times of awkward onstage moments was the show’s saving grace.

Thankfully, the evening soon ditched the cheap phone filters – it was a bit of a gimmick anyway – and reverted to a more traditional performance, which took us along a meandering tale involving Arnold Schwarzenegger, Dublin Comic Con, a shrink ray, and all in the style of EastEnders and a spaghetti western.

When the end came, I couldn’t help but feel, is that it? We’ve all seen phone filters before, and the show’s evolution might have shone brighter with more innovation around its use of ChatGPT. And the visuals felt rather superfluous to the real magic of the live performers.

In almost every dimension, PL-AI’s successor falls short of the magic it had, but as we were given fair warning of the chances of the show flipping belly up, the team cannot be faulted for trying.