A person in blue pants, white shirt, and red tie stands onstage holding a framed photo, with books, a chair, a lamp, and a potted plant in the background. Blue lines radiate on the wall behind them.

Why the recasting for ‘Maybe Happy Ending’ matters

The musical has been championed by the Asian American community, which is why the casting of Andrew Barth Feldman feels like a tone-deaf rug pull

Darren Criss as Oliver in "Maybe Happy Ending."

Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Words by Kayti Burt

When Maybe Happy Ending, an original musical about two androids who fall in love in the face of forced obsolescence, won the Tony Award for Best Musical in June, it was a landmark win for the Asian American theater community—and for anyone who likes a happy ending. Set in near-future Seoul, the musical follows two abandoned “Helperbots”—jazz-obsessed optimist Oliver and world-weary nihilist Claire—who go on a road trip together and learn about the joy, sorrow, and hope inherent in loving someone.

The original musical, which launched in South Korea in 2016, was co-created by South Korean writer Hue Park and American writer Will Aronson. Its Broadway incarnation, directed by Michael Arden, stars Filipino American Darren Criss (Glee, The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story) and Chinese American Helen J. Shen (in her Broadway debut). Maybe Happy Ending’s six Tony wins also included a statue for Criss, marking the first time an Asian American actor has won in the Best Actor in a Musical category.

A young man holds a pink umbrella over a young woman as they stand in front of a table at a restaurant set labeled “Chez Gil,” appearing to sing to each other under stage rain.

From left, Helen J. Shen and Darren Criss in "Maybe Happy Ending" on Broadway.

Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

Maybe Happy Ending has been celebrated as a word-of-mouth success, going from a rocky financial start to a box office hit, even before winning big at the Tony Awards. Though not all of that success is down to its status as a too-rare musical on Broadway led by members of the Asian diaspora, the production’s connection to and championing by the Asian American community was certainly part of it, encouraged by the casting of actors of almost entirely of Asian descent, and press around the show’s surprise success. (Currently, seven of the show’s eight actors, including four understudies, are played by Asian American or Asian Canadian actors.)

Two and a half weeks ago, the positive buzz around Maybe Happy Ending took a turn when the production announced that Andrew Barth Feldman, a white Jewish actor, would be playing the role of Oliver for nine weeks following Criss’ departure. The announcement was couched in the excitement of seeing Feldman and Shen (who are in an offstage relationship) onstage together, but, for many in the Asian American community, it felt like a tone-deaf rug pull.

The subsequent statement from Park and Aronson feels inadequate. While it recognizes the pain the “collective casting decision” had caused many in the Asian American community, it argues that the parts of Oliver and Claire are not Asian or Asian American roles: “We wrote a show about robots so we could engage more intimately with the most basic human questions of love and loss, creating the roles of Oliver and Claire to be avatars of these universal questions. They were meant to be products created by a global company, and so never bore Korean names, even in the Korean version of the show.”

Maybe Happy Ending is not a diaspora story. It is fully set in South Korea, crafted by authors who were not part of the Asian diaspora growing up. But, as it exists today on Broadway, Maybe Happy Ending has become an Asian diaspora success story, a narrative actively encouraged by the show’s marketing as it successfully went for—and clinched—major Tony wins. "During awards season, the show leaned into its Asian excellence narrative,” Chinese American actor Telly Leung posted on Instagram. “That's why our community felt pride and ownership in MHE—and why this decision hurts so deeply now. It shows a lack of awareness, a lack of accountability, and, frankly, feels like a betrayal—especially to a community that's long been excluded from Broadway stages.” Other actors who have taken to social media to share their disappointment include Kay Sibal, B.D. Wong, and Michael K. Lee.

No production is an island. All art has context, and that context matters. It imbues a story with additional, unique meaning that has only existed and can only exist in that particular intersection of time, place, and people. Maybe Happy Ending may not have started out as a production tied to the Asian American experience, but that’s how it exists today on Broadway, during President Donald Trump’s second presidency. In the last quarter-century, the percentage of the U.S. population that identifies as Asian has almost doubled, growing from four percent  to seven percent, according to Pew Research Center. In the New York City metropolitan area, where Broadway is based, roughly 14 percent of the population is of Asian descent. Meanwhile, an increase in anti-AA+PI hate continues. In 2024, 53 percent of AA+PIs surveyed reported experiencing a “race-based hate act.”

In 2019, podcast network The Ensemblist did a photoshoot with all of the performers of Asian descent working in Broadway productions at the time. Of the 29 shows’ ensembles, there were only 20 Asian performers. (During the 2018-19 season, ensemble sizes ranged from nine to 55 people.) “If every single Asian performing in a Broadway ensemble can fit in one photograph, then we know we have a problem with representation,” The Ensemblist’s Mo Brady said at the time.

A person in blue pants sits on a gray couch reading a magazine, while another person in a yellow skirt and white top stands nearby, both in a cozy room with books, a lamp, and pillows.

From left, Darren Criss and Helen J. Shen play jazz-obsessed optimist and world-weary nihilist Helperbots Oliver and Claire.

Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman

In 2024, prior to Maybe Happy Ending’s premiere, theater blogger and performer Erin Quill predicted the year would be “the most Asian” year on Broadway. She particularly celebrated the fact that many of the roles held by performers of Asian descent would be as principals, and “in shows that are not revolving around the performer’s background.” In her response to the Maybe Happy Ending recast, Quill notes that, thus far, the upcoming Broadway season has no other AANHPI leads other than Keanu Reeves, whose starring turn in Waiting For Godot is selling for up to $950 per ticket. “So, frankly, Maybe Happy Ending is ‘it’ for representation right now.”

In their statement, the show’s writers point out that the central roles of Oliver and Claire do not have to be played by someone of Korean or Asian identity. From the production team’s perspective, this is justification for the casting decision. But, for many in the Asian American community, that was exactly why the Asian casting for the Maybe Happy Ending roles, from principals to standbys and understudies, was so special. “Finally, we as a community could celebrate something,” Lee says in an Instagram video. “Something that other people could say, after watching it, was them. The way that the Huxtables showed us that an African American family was our family. Or the Keatons or the Bradys or the Waltons. They were us.”

Casting decisions like this one are a political act, even when they are not considered in that context. The Maybe Happy Ending producers get to decide who they cast in their show, as they have demonstrated. But they don’t get to decide that the choice doesn’t matter.

“We thought this was ours,” Lee continues. “We thought that this was our moment to share our culture, our faces with the world, and have people say, ‘Yeah, not so different.’ And you’ve made it clear this is your show. We have no right to tell you what to do with it. Understood. It just sucks that we thought we had a say, and that you agreed with us.”

Published on August 12, 2025

Words by Kayti Burt

Kayti Burt (she/her) is a pop culture journalist based in Worcester, Massachusetts. Her areas of expertise include Korean entertainment and fan culture. She is a member of the Television Critics Association and the Freelance Solidarity Project. Find her on BlueSky @kaytiburt.bsky.social.