
Maybe Happy Ending: A Musical That Wonders What It Means to Be Human—Through the Eyes of a Robot
Are we human, or… are we robots?
The Korean musical Maybe Happy Ending, now making its Broadway debut, poses this question head-on. Or perhaps more accurately—it flips it. Rather than asking how human a robot can become, it explores what it means to be human by looking through a robot’s eyes.
Written by Will Aronson and Hue Park, this musical is set in near-future Seoul, where two humanoid robots—“HelperBots”—live out their post-utility lives. Oliver (played by Glee and The Assassination of Gianni Versace’s Darren Criss) and Claire (Helen J. Shen, in her Broadway debut) are outdated models, discarded by their former owners and relegated to a kind of robot junkyard called “HelperBot Yards.” Like obsolete iPhones, they are victims of planned obsolescence.
Their story begins when Claire’s charging cable breaks and her battery life starts to dwindle. She asks Oliver for help—and an unexpected connection begins to form. Sound familiar? Maybe that’s the point.
More Than a Robot Romance
Today, we live alongside self-driving cars and AI assistants. Robots are becoming not only more advanced, but more humanlike. Maybe Happy Ending doesn’t entertain the age-old question of whether robots will dominate us. Instead, it asks: Can robots connect with us?
In the show, Oliver and Claire laugh at violent depictions of machines in films like The Terminator. Their real questions are far more tender:
Can a robot replace a family? Be a partner? Fall in love?
And these don’t feel like science fiction. In fact, they mirror our present—our desire to form emotional bonds with the AI that now fills our homes. Ultimately, Maybe Happy Ending isn’t just a story about robots. It’s a meditation on what it means to love, to age, to be forgotten—and to hope again.
A Genre-Bending Musical That Feels Both Fresh and Familiar
If you cross Her, The Last Five Years, 50 First Dates, Hadestown, and Black Mirror, you might get something like Maybe Happy Ending. It’s a delicate interweaving of science fiction and romantic comedy, but it goes beyond that. The musical holds traces of Her’s soulful AI narrative, Hadestown’s mythic fatalism, and the fragmented-memory love stories of 50 First Dates or The Last Five Years. There's even a dose of Black Mirror’s tech-noir melancholy.
It folds in classic road-trip structure and sitcom-like misadventures of robots fumbling through human routines. What emerges is a self-aware, genre-conscious work that both plays with and pays homage to romantic comedy conventions, giving them a gentle sci-fi twist.
Seeing Ourselves Through Robot Eyes
On the surface, this is a story about robots—but at its core, it’s an emotional, very human tale. Oliver is a HelperBot 3—reliable but outdated. Claire is a more advanced, but fragile and short-lived HelperBot 5. Their contrasting specs become a metaphor for generational divide, technological evolution, and the existential gap between eras.
Both have been abandoned. That choice of setting raises profound questions about labor, value, and obsolescence. Oliver longs for his former owner, James, with a near-obsessive attachment, embodying the danger of nostalgia. He’s optimistic, always imagining what could be. Claire, by contrast, is clear-eyed and pragmatic—her worldview summed up by the line, “That’s just how the world is.”
She’s acutely aware that her hardware is failing, and that there are no more replacement parts. She accepts that she may soon live permanently tethered to a wall socket. Through this, the show quietly explores aging, disability, and end-of-life care with startling intimacy—all through the metaphor of circuitry and battery life.
“What Is Love?” — The Most Human Question Asked by a Robot
At the heart of Maybe Happy Ending is one deceptively simple but profound question: What is love?
Oliver and Claire, though robotic by design, choose to explore what love might mean for beings like them. The show doesn’t ask why we fall in love, but why we do it anyway—even knowing it will someday end.
By giving these robots interiority—anxieties, desires, disappointments, and hope—Aronson and Park make Oliver and Claire feel deeply, heartbreakingly human. In the end, this isn’t just a story about technology. It’s a story about being alive.
Darren Criss and Helen J. Shen: A Study in Contrast
Darren Criss and Helen J. Shen deliver two strikingly different, yet equally compelling performances.
Criss, playing the older HelperBot model, leans fully into the mechanical: rigid arms, stiff posture, minimal expression. The commitment to physicality is remarkable—you only realize how robotic he’s been when he finally walks and smiles like a regular human during the curtain call.
His vocals are strong, but his robot-like affect can create a sense of emotional distance at first. His makeup, reminiscent of a silent film character (designed by Suki Tsujimoto), may come off slightly distracting depending on your taste.
Shen, on the other hand, brings a naturalism to Claire that feels almost too real. Especially in scenes where she reckons with her own mortality, her performance evokes not a robot, but a deeply vulnerable human being. She brings warmth and ache to the metallic shell—reminding us that the line between machine and human might not be so clear after all.