"Maybe Happy Ending" is a Beautiful Reflection on Life, Love, and Mortality

Claire Kwon and Steven Huynh in Maybe Happy Ending. Credit: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman. 

Maybe Happy Ending, onstage now at the Durham Performing Arts Center (DPAC), is an innovative musical, set in a futuristic Korea, that explores some big themes. And, yet, it all starts in one very small room. That room belongs to Oliver (Steven Huynh), a loyal Helperbot-3, who is passing his days in a one-room apartment for retired Helperbots. According to Oliver, he’s not really “retired” at all. He’s simply waiting for his beloved owner, James (James Seol), to return so they can continue their happy lives together. Oliver’s wait, though, is a long one, and the audience watches and listens as twelve years pass in a single song. The clean, orderly room that once seemed so full of sparkle and promise suddenly starts to seem much smaller and bleaker, especially when it’s revealed that Helperbot replacement parts are being discontinued. This subtle-but-sharp change in tone is just the first of many twists in store. From beginning to end, this compact little musical never fails to surprise, enlighten, or entertain.

Directed by Michael Arden and featuring a book, music, and lyrics by Will Aronson and Hue Park, Maybe Happy Ending spans only around 100 minutes, but still manages to take viewers on an emotional journey of highs and lows that mirrors life itself. What’s funny about that is that neither of the main characters—the aforementioned Oliver or Claire (Claire Kwon), the Helperbot-5 who disrupts his humdrum existence—is living, at least not in the traditional sense. In fact, the only living thing in their presence for the bulk of the show is HwaBoon, Oliver’s much-loved plant. HwaBoon, though, serves as a smart plot device, one that begs important questions about what it truly means to be alive.

That question comes up quite a bit as Claire and Oliver break all the rules and embark on a forbidden journey to Jeju Island. Though they both have different goals—Oliver longs to reconnect with James while Claire wants to see the almost-extinct fireflies—they ultimately discover that they have more in common—and more capacity to feel and love—than they ever thought possible.

Their story of connection and possibility is told in a surprisingly simple, streamlined way. There’s no distractingly flashy tech involved here. That’s not to say, however, that the production doesn’t utilize impressive effects. Rooms slide neatly into view, expanding and shrinking to focus attention, digital displays track the passage of time, and video projections allow us to peek into Oliver and Claire’s imaginations and stored memories. These impressive effects, made possible by George Reeve’s video design and Dane Laffrey’s scenic and additional video design, always feel natural and innate to the story. They are integrated subtly, in a way that never overpowers the very human, heartfelt tone that is so central to this tale.

That seamless, natural quality also extends to both costumes and movement, lending a pleasantly clean, cohesive feel to the production. Costume designer Clint Ramos keeps the robot characters clad in simple “uniforms” with small pops of color, and, while there’s no traditional choreographer, Arden’s direction does feature flowing, lyrical movements. When Oliver and James sing “Where You Belong,” a song about the life they shared together, their gestures and steps are beautifully mirrored, hinting at their interdependent, symbiotic relationship. This same smart staging is repeated with Claire and Oliver in the “Good-bye My Room” number, a song that gently asks viewers to think about their own relationships with inanimate objects.

Speaking of Claire and Oliver, both characters are brought fully to life through richly characterized performances. Huynh’s Oliver brims with squeaky clean energy and a childlike innocence, while Kwon’s Claire is more guarded and cautious. Even their rooms, from Oliver’s perfectly-placed pillows to Claire’s flickering light and scruffy beanbag chair, showcase their differences. When they come together, though, they share a sweet, soothing chemistry that evokes all the confusion and wonder of first love.

While they are the definite stars of the show, Seol steals many a moment in his gentle portrayal of James and, then later, as the jaded, embittered Junseo. Likewise, Francisco Javier González sparkles as Gil Brentley, the jazz-singing, mood-setting apparition that allows Oliver to express his feelings.

Character and memory intertwine in beautiful, delicate ways as Oliver and Claire slowly make their way to one truly joyful moment. Immersed in a forest of fireflies, they deliver the show’s most hauntingly poignant song: “Never Fly Away.” This scene, which features flickering lights floating against the darkest sky, is arguably the most gorgeous in the show and serves as an important reminder of one of its most central themes: “the ending’s not the most important part.”

Maybe Happy Ending ponders the many meanings of mortality and asks some tough questions about love, connection, and what makes a feeling “real.” It does so, however, in a way that’s reminiscent of staring up at a night sky, considering the big questions, and realizing how lucky you are to consider them at all. It’s an inventive, original, and thoroughly mesmerizing musical that will leave you touched and contemplative long after the curtain closes.
 
-Susie Potter