When Marjorie Prime opened Off Broadway in 2015, starring Lois Smith, it appealed as science fiction. Ten years later, the use of various forms of artificial intelligence to support human behavior is ubiquitous. Reinforcing this new reality Harrison and director Anne Kauffman dusted off the prescient family drama and shined it up for its Broadway premiere with few changes to the script. Maintaining the prior production values, director Anne Kauffman works with set designer Lee Jellinek, sound designer Daniel Kluger and Ben Stanton’s lighting design to create the almost surreal and static atmosphere where AI takes over the lives of a family and exists for itself in the last scene.

The production runs at the Helen Hayes Theater with the superb cast of June Squibb, Cynthia Nixon, Danny Burstein and Christopher Lowell through February 15. They are the reason to see the revival.

On one level the excellent performances outshine the tenor and weight if not the themes of Marjorie Prime which seem droll if not heartfelt as they deal with death, identity, the grieving process, artificial intelligence and more. The science fiction aspect of the play, so striking before, has diminished in light of our extensive use of chatbots and artificial intelligence.

Harrison’s conceit that AI holograms might be used to reconcile the death and loss of a loved one fascinates, especially now that this is closer to reality than one might think. Our culture fights death and aging (there is no way to age gracefully) with its emphasis on ageless appearance, looking 25-years-old at the chronological age of 90-years-old. Other cultures have a healthier approach, viewing death and aging as a normal part of life. However, with technological advancements, regardless of the culture or country, it is inevitable that AI has its uses in the battle against disease, dying, death and mourning. Harrison’s conceit of “Primes” assisting with the grieving process makes sense now more than ever.

The “Primes,” in Marjorie Prime are the spitting image of loved ones at a particular time in their lives. They are designed to help the bereaved get through inconsolable grief. Isn’t it easier to adjust to a loved one’s physical absence, if their holographic duplicate is present to sustain, comfort and be the companion they crave? Won’t the “Prime” keep them engaged, sentient and interactive, unlike passively watching TV?

Such is the function of Walter Prime (Christopher Lowell), a hologram of Marjorie’s deceased husband. However, Walter Prime is a replica of the younger, good-looking Walter in his thirties, not the morbidly sick and dying Walter with a funeral around the corner. Walter’s programming and presence give Marjorie company and help stir her memory which is fading. A work in progress, he evolves based on the information that 85-year-old Marjorie (June Squibb), her daughter Tess (Cynthia Nixon), and son-in-law Jon (Danny Burstein), give him about events and specific details about his life with Marjorie.

Thus, at the top of the play Walter Prime and Marjorie discuss movies they went to, for example, My Best Friend’s Wedding, which Marjorie has forgotten until Walter tells her the synopsis. The spry 96-year old Squibb, who made her Broadway debut playing one of the strippers in Gypsy (1959), portrays the spicy, funny, confused, chronologically younger woman with a failing memory, an irony that amused me to no end. Squibb is just terrific.

As Marjorie’s identity and memory dissolves, Walter Prime slows down that process, and builds up the identity of Walter with her help. Various questions raised by the scenarios are never answered. For example, how can Walter Prime in his thirties be emotionally and intellectually programmed for the Walter in his fifties and how can Marjorie be expected to keep track of details of their time together from their thirties to their elderly years in order to feed him information since her memory grows increasingly wobbly?

Indeed, facts and details shift and the truth is mislaid at times. An imagined past becomes easier to accept with one’s husband “Prime” who relies on others for “details.” This problem never resolves. Neither does the issue that Walter’s function as a presence to stimulate Marjorie is the benefit that Senior Serenity, the company that made him, affirms. The impatient, edgy Tess has doubts about Walter’s usefulness, but the upbeat Jon thinks that Marjorie’s engagement and memory have improved.

In fact Walter’s presence annoys Tess. Jon accuses her of jealousy because Marjorie seems to prefer Walter over Tess, who must nag her mother to eat and “obey” her in the reversal of mother/daughter, parent/child roles. Losing her autonomy Marjorie relies on Tess and Jon in her living arrangements. The three of them converse in Jellick’s minimalist, nondescript living room-kitchen combination that lacks futuristic character or style. Walter Prime is present, sitting on a sofa in the living room area in a “listening mode” ready to engage when needed.

For his part Jon is positive about Walter’s impact on Marjorie. As the scene progresses, Tess mentions after an interval that her mother surprisingly recalls a situation long buried in pain. We learn the specifics of this later in the play which progresses in jump intervals in time with a good deal of the action referred to happening off stage. (i.e. Tess and Jon take Marjorie to the hospital after a fall).

Guided by the “Primes,” who Harrison sequences to move the action forward, time jumps. Marjorie has died and Jon and Tess engage Marjorie Prime to help console Tess and move her through her bleak depression and grief at her mom’s passing. After that we learn through Jon’s conversation with Tess Prime what transpired with Tess. In the various scenes Nixon’s Tess gives a heartbreaking speech about her mother, memory and imagination which sets up the rest of the play. Burstein’s Jon listens and responds with an uncanny authenticity. Both are superb.

Since the “Primes” “live” forever in holographic form until someone decommissions them, they occupy the home in the last scene. Jon is elsewhere, so they converse among themselves having been given life from their human counterparts as an ideal, evolved “being.” Eerie perfection.

Marjorie Prime runs 1 hour 15 minutes with no intermission at the Helen Hayes Theater on 44th Street until the 15 of February. 2st.com.