It takes a special type of theatrical talent, one loaded with heart and wit and insight, to imbue something that looks like an Apple MagSafe iPhone Charger with more romantic appeal than a decade’s worth of Valentines Day chocolates, but that’s just what the creators and performers of the delightful musical Maybe Happy Ending have achieved.
A tenderhearted meet-cute rom-com tinged with poignance, laughs and break-your-heart melancholy , Maybe Happy Ending just might be this season’s answer to Kimberly Akimbo. A near-perfect little fable of set-for-the-scrap-heap robots learning to love and knowing whatever happiness they find will be short-lived, Maybe Happy Ending is, of all things, a musical about androids that absolutely brims with humanity.
Featuring marvelous performances from Darren Criss and Helen J Shen as two obsolete “helperbots” retired to rooms in a sort of well-appointed robot hospice center – think those all-the-rage tiny houses as if designed by Pee-wee Herman – Maybe Happy Ending is set outside Seoul at some point later in this century. It’s a world that seems distant enough to quality for sci-fi, but familiar enough to look like that eye-candy Mid Century Modern furniture catalogue you got in the mail last week.
Directed by Michael Arden, showing a flare for comedy and lightheartedness-amid-the-desolation only hinted at in his fine, recent revival of Parade, Maybe Happy Ending is buoyed not only by the endearing performances but by a score (music by Will Aronson, lyrics by Hue Park) that effectively makes a case that the genre known as Contemporary Musical Theater still has plenty of joy and pleasures to offer.
Criss
Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman
So, the plot (and here’s where description isn’t going to do much ticket-selling). Criss plays Oliver, an ever-optimistic helperbot in high-wasted sky-blue pants and a red tie – think Pee-wee as reimagined by the show’s great Broadway designer Clint Ramos – whom we meet as he waits patiently and happily in his little room with its old-fashioned record player, a stack of 1950s jazz albums, a little Ikea-style couch, a strange, possibly artificial plant as a best friend, and a mail chute that delivers both his jazz magazines and whatever bodily replacement part he’ll need for his own upkeep.
Oliver takes a childlike delight in the repetition of his daily activities, happily alone and happily confined to his teeny-tiny living quarter (Maybe Happy Ending might just be the first legitimate Covid-era musical). Ever optimistic, he passes each day awaiting the return of James, his best friend who will one day return to their little home.
The audience is likely to figure out quickly that James was no friend, but rather Oliver’s previous owner, and he ain’t coming home. This realization is clear immediately to Claire (Shen), who after 12 years living across the hall from Oliver comes knocking one day to borrow his charger. What she knows, and we know, but Oliver doesn’t, is that her malfunctioning battery won’t be fixable for much longer, nor will those replacement parts both Oliver and Claire rely upon keep coming. Imagine trying to get a replacement part for your first-generation iPod Shuffle and you’ll get the idea.
Though neither of the two helperbots are programmed for love, we, with our knowledge of Rock and Doris, Say Anything and When Harry Met Sally, know better. And maybe so does Claire, a later-model bot than Oliver whose smoother human-like movements seem to reflect a more sophisticated emotional intelligence as well. (The physicality of the two actors – Criss’ herky-jerky roboticisms are at delightful odds with Shen’s smoother human-like vibe, a clever little poke at the domestic immaturity of young men in new love).
Though initially fearful of breaking out of their isolations, the two bots begin the first slow feelings of emotion with Claire’s daily visits for charger-borrowing. Despite his reluctance, Oliver, who until now had been happily awaiting the day when he could save up enough bottle-refund coins to fund a reunion trip to James’ new home, our mechanical swain agrees to take a chance by going on a road trip with Claire (her model can drive, and she has a car left behind by her former owner – a story in and of itself, that will unfold slowly and with more than a few surprises).
Criss, Shen
Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman
So off they go, pretending to be human – retired bots aren’t allowed out of the scrap yard – and, yes, falling in love on the way. The romance doesn’t happen easily, quickly or without sadness – here’s where memories of Kimberly Akimbo might sneak in – but the emotional journey is, for the audience, as irresistible as it is delightful.
Among the various tricks up the sleeve of Maybe Happy Ending, which began life in a Korean production (with Korean and English translations), is an absolutely stunning visual design. Scenic designer Dane Laffrey, who, like Criss, sets a new standard for himself here, and along with video designer George Reeve, lighting designer Ben Stanton, and sound designer Peter Hylenski creates some of the most awe-inspiring explosions of flash, color and, well, beauty gracing any Broadway stage this fall season. On-stage characters interact with ghostly black-and-white video characters, not to mention a forest-full of fireflies and a ’50s-era jazz crooner (The Voice finalist Dez Duron).
After the amazing firefly scene, and even more spectacularly, a scene in which our lovers’ inner circuits reveals themselves in a heart-stopping, full-stage display of light and sound that explodes from the set’s early, more constricted (if still lovely) aperture approach, Maybe Happy Ending could happily end, and if Arden and his team can’t quite restrain themselves from stretching things a bit, well, it’s hard to blame them: There still a delight or two, not to mention a lump in the throat, that demand to be experienced. Maybe Happy Ending deserves no less.
Title: Maybe Happy Ending
Venue: Broadway’s Belasco Theatre
Director: Michael Arden
Book: Will Aronson, Hue Park
Music: Will Aronson
Lyrics: Hue Park
Cast: Darren Criss, Helen J Shen, Dez Duron, Marcus Choi and Arden Cho, Young Marion, Jim Kaplan
Running time: 1 hr 45 min (no intermission)