Do not be misled by the title. Authenticity is conspicuous only by its absence in the tinny revival of “The Real Thing,” which opened on Thursday night at the American Airlines Theater.

Evidence of real feelings, real chemistry and real life in general is dishearteningly scarce in this interpretation of Tom Stoppard’s 1982 comedy about one all-too-witty writer’s emotional block. Despite a talented big-name cast, including the movie stars Ewan McGregor and Maggie Gyllenhaal in their Broadway debuts, this Roundabout Theater Company production is one of those unfortunate revivals that make you wonder if the play in question is worth revisiting.

How can this be? “The Real Thing” is generally regarded as the Stoppard work that pretty much anybody can warm to, even folks usually put off by the cerebral games this dramatist is wont to play. It is not about head-scratching, highfalutin’ figures like the brilliant but ambivalent Russian revolutionaries of his “The Coast of Utopia,” or the brilliant but ambivalent philosopher of “Jumpers,” or the brilliant but ambivalent Cambridge don and poet (A. E. Housman) of “The Invention of Love.”

No, “The Real Thing” is about marital love and infidelity, subjects dear and familiar to the mainstream theatergoer. It won a slew of Tony Awards, including best play, for its original 1984 Broadway incarnation, which Frank Rich described in The New York Times as “not only Mr. Stoppard’s most moving play, but also the most bracing play that anyone has written about love and marriage in years.” A 2000 production picked up another clutch of Tonys, including best revival.