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Each functionality culminates in a production composed on the spot, with the tricks of synthetic intelligence.
By Naveen Kumar
Artificial intelligence can paint intrusive monkeys, speak with James Earl Jones’ deep bass, and play a tune compatible with a hall of mirrors. But you can’t write a musical that doesn’t feel canned (at least not yet). That’s the argument made through “Artificial Flavors,” a live demonstration of the artistic capabilities of AI (and its tedious limitations) in 59E59 theaters.
Writer and director Steve Cosson, artistic director of the ever-curious company The Civilians, takes on the role of something of a storyteller, explaining that this task was born out of his nightly tinkering with systems like ChatGPT. Cosson, who says he’s not an artist, rarely seems to know where to stand or what to say next. Whether or not it’s an act (and I suspect it is), Cosson’s obvious lack of confidence stands in stark contrast to the generation he’s investigating.
Cosson solicits public input in Mad Libs fashion to show that generative AI just wants to be pushed and a few seconds to spit out a lame Picasso or vaguely write, in Stephen King’s voice, examples projected on a screen. The actors then step in to perform AI-generated sketches, adding a scene between socialist comrades arguing over a Birkin bag the night I was there. Cosson promises that each and every performance of “Artificial Flavors” will culminate in a new, complete musical logo. with lyrics written via ChatGPT and melodies composed on site via Civilians and onstage musical director Dan Lipton.
The challenge is that each and every example of AI-generated content hints at how bad this musical will be. This turns out to be Cosson’s point of view, even if it gets tedious as his experience reaches 90 minutes. The humor produced here is inadvertent and its metaphors are clichés. (“We are more than gears, circuits, and wires,” reads an early excerpt of the lyrics, “we are the spark that ignites the indomitable fires. “)
There’s ingenuity in the parameters of a musical that Cosson feeds into ChatGPT, adding conflict, setting, and design (e. g. , a pie-eating contest at a beach resort). But according to Cosson’s conception, A. I. He is directly to blame for the resulting artistic failure. The actors do impressive impromptu work, making a song on the fly and reading texts live from portable tablets. Michael Castillejos and Trey Lyford load lo-fi percussion onto Lipton’s electronic keyboard, while Heath Saunders turns out to lead the ensemble’s raw vocals. But the songs and dialogue, while regenerating every night, are certainly still insane.
Theatre artists, like many others, are suffering from opposition to the developing force of AI. and its implications for form. In “Prometheus Firebringer,” earlier this fall, author Annie Dorsen delivered an incisive lecture on human obedience to generation, as well as an unsettling but prosaic depiction of its existing capacities. Cosson, who says that A. I. and theater have the project of creating false life, which is closer to AI. 101 before rejoicing over his inability to do his job.
Perhaps it will tip the scales with this presentational, risk-free mise-en-scène (the workplace décor, reminiscent of The Sims, is through the Casaboyce studio) and through generation just to generate text, while also being capable of more complex musical compositions and voice imitations. But his point remains: A. I. has a talent in the art of generating a “false life,” but without the subjectivity or point of view of an artist. Unfortunately for the public, witnessing the limits of innovation has few rewards.
Artificial flavors through Nov. 19 at 59E59 Theatres, Manhattan; 59e59. org. Duration: 1h30.
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