A new video of Keanu Reeves has fans a bit worried.

The John Wick star, 61, arrived at the opening night of his Broadway debut in Waiting for Godot in New York City on Sunday, September 28, alongside girlfriend Alexandra Grant. In a clip posted on Instagram that same day, fans couldn’t help but express their concern over his disheveled appearance.

“I feel [he’s] not well,” wrote one commenter of the actor, who wore a rumpled suit and appeared tired. “Is it health or personal matter I don’t know.”

Others described the A-lister — who suffered multiple injuries in a 1988 motorcycle accident and has revealed he has knee problems from years of making action movies — as a “frail” “old man.”

“It’s worrysome,” one person shared.

“Love him, he’s getting old,” concluded a fan, to which another responded, “Aren’t we all?”

Reeves has received mixed reviews for his performance in the classic Samuel Beckett play, in which he stars alongside Alex Winters, his costar in 1989’s Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and the subsequent sequels.

At the premiere, Winters, 60, told People that his old pal is “maybe a little wiser, maybe a little bit more relaxed, and more sort of at ease with the world.”

Still going strong.

Keanu Reeves and his longtime girlfriend, Alexandra Grant, held hands and posed on the red carpet together at the opening performance of his broadway debut on Sunday.

The actor, 61, stars in the revival of Samuel Becket’s “Waiting for Gadot” alongside his “Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure” co-star, Alex Winter.

Grant, 52, looked chic in a square-neck black dress with cap sleeves, which she paired with a diamond necklace, earrings and bracelets.

Reeves sported an unconventional look, pairing a black suit jacket with gray pinstripe pants and boots with orange laces.

The couple’s date night came after Grant shut down rumors the two got married last week.

Grant addressed the rumors while posting a picture of her and Reeves kissing during their visit to Roden Crater, an art installation by artist James Turrell, in Arizona.

“I’m sharing it here to say thank you to everyone for the congratulations on our wedding,” she continued. “Except we didn’t get married.”

“Good news is much needed these days, but it’s still fake news, so be careful out there!” she continued. “So, here’s a bit of real happiness!”

Since then, they haven’t been shy about sharing PDA.

In April, they were snapped kissing during a boozy lunch date in London. The couple shared a sweet kiss while dining and sipping on wine at Scott’s seafood restaurant, then smiled at photographers while holding hands on a walk.

Or maybe it is the inside of the tree that director Jamie Lloyd has relegated to somewhere in the first of second balcony. Gilmour’s set and Jon Clark’s lighting create several eclipses of the sun and moon worthy of Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey,” and it against one of these dramatic lighting displays that Pozzo, needing to wear black sunglasses, pushes the wheel-chair-bound Lucky, wearing a Hannibal Lecter protective mask.

Lucky has only one very famous attack of logorrhea, and yet, even in his silence, the tragic codependence of these two men is more clearly and quickly established than anything going on in the previous half hour between Reeves and Winter. It’s also great to see Dirden and Thornton, two real theater animals, attack their roles with such obvious relish, that creepy reference to “The Silence of the Lambs” being the least of it.

This Pozzo is a bursting sun repelling everything in its orbit, and this Lucky is the black hole that sucks it all right back. An added attraction is that Dirden brings an old American South flavor to his portrayal. This fine actor is destined to play Big Daddy or Boss Finley.

Regarding the broken link in this ensemble, what Reeves does have going for him is a look. The late theater illustrator Al Hirschfeld would have drawn him with a minimum of very long lines. This Gogo is so tall and thin as to be suffering from severe desiccation, the eyes small beads of black glass, the body so starved for another of Didi’s carrots that hair has sprung out all over his face in a kind of hirsute protest. Gilmour’s costumes emphasize this physical starkness by making Gogo’s suit too small, Didi’s suit too big. Of course, there are the Laurel & Hardy black derbies, also worn by Pozzo and Lucky. Gogo and Dido aren’t so much big and thin as they are tall and short. They are also the stomach and the brain, the id and the ego.

But a look only goes so far. It is not a performance, and Reeves very studied and mannered delivery of his lines is enough to ban the word “staccato” from Webster’s.

Which leaves it to Winter to carry this tragicomedy act. It’s a lopsided routine, but this Didi’s longing gaze out over the audience not only makes us see that missing tree but the abyss that awaits us all.