I walk Broadway like a beat cop, from Times Square to Lincoln Center, reporter’s notebook in one hand and Playbill in the other. Sometimes I see puzzling things. Like, what’s going on at the Belasco, that beloved jewelbox? What is Maybe Happy Ending? This has intrigued me for months. Now that I’ve seen it, I can tell you: it’s a musical rom-com. Or maybe “ram”-com, or “rob”-com. In any case, it’s a small miracle.
Oliver (Darren Criss) lives alone in a cozy apartment in Seoul, Korea, listening to (and reading about) Fifties jazz records and tending to his flowering plant, HwaBoon. He listens (and reads), and tends, and listens (and reads), and tends, as time goes by–a dozen years as it happens. Oliver is a “helperbot,” a 3 model, once owned by James. Someday he hopes James will retrieve him from what we learn is a retirement community for older units, with the 3s prone to wi-fi memory loss. Enter next door neighbor Claire (Helen J Shen), a more sophisticated but less hardy 5, whose battery is on the fritz and needs recharging. Oliver, a slightly supercilious know-it-all, is somewhat wary of Claire but gradually they bond. Their friendship is tested when Claire suggests a road trip to an island, where she will look for her beloved fireflies (it’s the one place they still exist) and Oliver will seek out James (costar Marcus Choi fills several small, incisive roles), who may live there.
This all seems rather…whimsical. Twee. The Claire in me was skeptical. But there’s darkness around the edges of its pleasing, simple storyline, one that could go dystopian (think Never Let Me Go, with its doomed clones) but instead occupies a thoughtful place of its own. Cocreated by Hue Park and Will Aronson and originally staged in Korea their book gives us just enough detail on which to hang the premise, and their songs do the rest. Oliver’s “World Within My Room” explores his cell-like existence, followed by Claire’s “The Way That It Has to Be,” a paean to the end of all things, and, yes, we’re far from the usual bombast and belters. But the gentle, listenable tunes draw you inward, to reflect upon human concerns about our overreliance on technology and other frailties. (Jazzier numbers performed Dez Duron, as Oliver’s favorite old-school artist, Gil Brentley, shake things up tonally from time to time.)
Maybe Happy Ending‘s intermissionless 100 minutes would run down fast, however, without the right leads, who meet cute, spar, and consider love in the face of uncertain lifespan and other obstacles. It has them, in spades. Speaking in chipper tones like the voice of A.I. and singing with all his heart Criss is delightful, whether clowning (he has a raucous Terminator 2 bit) or gently opening himself up to experiences outside daily mail deliveries and the overall rut of retirement. In her Broadway debut Shen offers a spikier contrast, with poignant moments as her more self-aware robot copes with decline. Both affect an androidal quality, and both expose the beating hearts beneath the mechanics. Lovely, lovely work.
In retrospect I only needed to know one name on the poster, that of director Michael Arden, to recognize that this unusual material was in good hands. His credits include the tremendously affecting revival of Parade and the outstanding Deaf West staging of Spring Awakening, and the same intelligence is at work here. I’ve not seen a better staging all season, maybe all year. It’s high-tech, and ultimately cosmic, but never showy or overbearing. Everything works together for an immersive, emotional experience that is always warm and never cold, as productions that use a lot of video tend to be. (Quietly shattering projections show what happened with Claire’s once-tender owner.) The creative team deserves a hand, animatronic or otherwise: Dane Laffrey (scenic and additional video design), George Reeve (video and projection design), Ben Stanton (lighting), Clint Ramos (costumes), Peter Hylenski (sound), Craig Franklin Miller (hair and wigs), and Suki Tsujimoto (makeup).
Note, as well, that this is very much a PG-13 experience, something that isn’t The Lion King or Elf the Musical if your kids are more venturesome, and I have the 13-year-old to prove it. I thought Ryan would go for the video effects, and he did, but he was just as taken with Laffrey’s sliding, irising panels. And while we wait for a Broadway cast album he sought out a recording from Korea and has been listening to it intently. It’s a happy omen and not an ending for the future of theater when something new comes along to delight younger audiences, no “maybe” about it.
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