Why Oliver in “Maybe Happy Ending” Should Remain an Asian Role

by Chris Peterson

On paper, it looks like a lovely Broadway moment. Andrew Barth Feldman, the earnest talent who first charmed audiences in Dear Evan Hansen, will take over the role of Oliver in Maybe Happy Ending beginning September 2 at the Belasco Theatre. He’s stepping in opposite his real-life girlfriend, Helen J Shen, who plays Claire. It’s an undeniably charming pairing. Andrew is a gifted actor and a genuinely wonderful person. I have no doubt that his chemistry with Helen will be off the charts.

But even with all that said, this casting still doesn’t sit right.

This will mark the first time a white actor has played Oliver on Broadway. And that decision carries weight, no matter how lovely the circumstances may appear on the surface.

Oliver is not just another role. He is the emotional center of a musical that is deeply and intentionally tied to Asian culture. Created by Korean artists, set in a future version of Seoul, and originally staged in South Korea, Maybe Happy Ending is steeped in a specific cultural and emotional rhythm that is unmistakably Asian.

When Darren Criss, who is part Filipino, originated Oliver on Broadway, it wasn’t just a casting choice but a statement. Criss brought grace, depth, and nuance to the role and, in doing so, became the first Asian American actor to win the Tony Award for Best Leading Actor in a Musical. That was a moment—a real one. It meant something to audiences, the industry, and an entire community of performers who rarely see themselves centered in stories like this.

And now, that moment is being quietly rewritten.

To be clear, this is not about Andrew Barth Feldman’s talent. He’s more than capable. I truly believe he’ll deliver a performance filled with emotional truth. But this conversation is not about skill. It’s about space.

Some have pushed back on the criticism of Feldman’s casting by arguing that Oliver could be played by anyone. They point out that the character is a robot, not human. They note that during early workshops, the role was played by performers of different racial backgrounds, and that the story never explicitly addresses race.

All of that may be true, but it misses the point.

Representation is not just about what is technically allowed. It is about what is emotionally resonant and culturally necessary. Yes, Maybe Happy Ending was explored with actors of various backgrounds during its development. That is what workshops are for. But once the show arrived on Broadway, once it premiered with a cast that reflected the story’s cultural roots and honored its Asian creative lineage, it became something more. It became a rare and necessary act of representation. And the moment Darren Criss stepped into that role and made history, the role itself changed. The expectations changed. The responsibility changed.

You cannot uncouple that now.

The idea that Oliver is a universal role, that he can be played by anyone because the story is metaphorical, is a luxury that only gets applied after a performer of color makes it successful. That is the pattern. A role becomes universal only once it has been proven by someone who is not white.

And that is the part that stings.

As a Korean person watching Maybe Happy Ending on Broadway, I felt something I do not often get to feel in a theater of that scale. I felt seen. I felt spoken to. I felt a sweeping pride, not only in the beauty of the story, but in knowing that something born from Korean culture, told with Korean soul, had made it here. Had won. Had connected. That matters. And it does not come around often.

So yes, I take this casting personally. And I think I am allowed to.

Broadway has not yet earned the luxury of being race-blind when it comes to casting roles like Oliver. Asian American actors are still fighting for meaningful, romantic, leading roles on the Broadway stage. When a show comes along that not only gives them that opportunity, but celebrates them for it, and when that performance wins the highest honor in American theater, taking that role away and handing it to a white actor feels like a reversal, not an evolution.

This is not about gatekeeping. It is about honoring what was built. Darren Criss’s performance was not a one-time exception. It should have been the beginning of a standard.

Oliver should be played by an Asian performer. Not as a temporary gesture, but as an ongoing commitment to equity, consistency, and respect. For the culture that gave birth to this story. For the actor who brought it to Broadway. And for the audiences who finally saw themselves in a leading role and believed, for a moment, that things were changing.

We should not be moving on. We should be moving forward. And this casting choice moves us in the wrong direction.