Creators Respond to “Maybe Happy Ending” Casting Controversy
by Chris Peterson
Yesterday, the creators of Maybe Happy Ending released a public statement addressing the casting of Andrew Barth Feldman as Oliver in the Broadway production of their show. The announcement followed growing criticism from members of the AAPI community and broader theatre world, many of whom expressed concern over replacing an Asian lead with a white actor in a musical so deeply rooted in Korean culture. Actor BD Wong issued a lengthy essay about the situation, which can be read here.
The creators, Will Aronson and Hue Park, acknowledged the pain felt by some audience members and offered a detailed, heartfelt explanation of their intentions, both in the casting and in the creation of the show.
The statement reads:
“We would like to share some thoughts on the collective casting decision of Andrew Barth Feldman in Maybe Happy Ending. We have spent days trying to find words that perfectly encompass all of our feelings, but as we watch the pain escalate, have decided it is better to simply share our incomplete thoughts and hope they are taken in the spirit of heartfelt conversation.
For months, we have been inundated with comments from people who previously knew nothing about Korea – but after watching Maybe Happy Ending, are now either planning trips to Jeju, deep-diving into Korean culture, or even learning the Korean language. This is incredibly meaningful to a Korean/American writing team who met and write in NYC, but are deeply immersed in Korean culture.
Our dream at the outset was that our allegorical robot show could one day miraculously become part of the American musical theater canon – a modern Fantasticks, able to be comfortably performed by anyone, anywhere – yet distinctly set in Korea. This went against prevailing wisdom that we needed to set our show in America.
We wrote a show about robots so we could engage more intimately with the most basic human questions of love and loss, creating the roles of Oliver and Claire to be avatars of these universal questions. They were meant to be products created by a global company, and so never bore Korean names, even in the Korean version of the show. At the same time, we understand that for many in the AAPI community, the makeup of our opening night cast became a meaningful and rare point of visibility. We’ve heard how strongly people connected to that representation, even if it wasn’t our original intent, and how this casting decision has re-opened old wounds.
Throughout the American development, we tried various approaches to casting. At some points along the journey, we cast the roles explicitly as Asian, thinking that it might help make the setting more quickly apparent. However, on seeing that, we also were not satisfied. To say that seeing *any* Asian actor on stage “quickly suggests Korea” seemed not only like a stretch, but regressive, or even offensive to the uniqueness of Korean culture.
By the time we came to Broadway – with a set design filled with Korean language – the robot roles were once again ethnically undefined, and our Broadway casting breakdown reflected this. The actors were cast because they fit the roles. In Oliver/Darren’s case, it was his ability to project boyishness and innocence, with a not-leading-man-broadway-belt style of voice.
Over the last several years, we have been heartened to see Asian performers playing Evan Hansen, Orpheus, Abe Lincoln, Sally Bowles, and others. Leading roles for Asian performers have long been painfully scarce, and these shows excitingly made gestures toward universality with expansive casting, and rightly gave opportunities to actors from identity categories who previously had few options. With Maybe Happy Ending, we wanted to write a show in which every role could be played by an Asian performer, but without the intention that the robot roles always would be.
We’re extremely saddened that the show, a decade-long labor of love for us, could ever become a source of confusion, anger or pain. We hope this gives a small window into our own thought process in the creation of Maybe Happy Ending. We’re so grateful for the artists and audiences who’ve embraced this story, and we will continue our conversations as Maybe Happy Ending continues its journey onstage. ~ Will Aronson and Hue Park
The statement is thoughtful, emotional, and clearly coming from a place of care. They open up about their intentions for the show, acknowledge the pain that many are expressing, and invite ongoing conversation. I appreciate that.
At the same time, I think it’s worth sitting with some of the tensions that still remain. Not out of a need to cancel or criticize, but out of a desire to keep moving the conversation forward. Because even when good people make thoughtful choices, there can still be blind spots. And even when something wasn’t intended to hurt, it can still hurt.
The creators explain that Maybe Happy Ending was never meant to be about race. Oliver and Claire are robots. Ethnically ambiguous by design. The show is set in Seoul, yes, and deeply inspired by Korean culture, but the lead characters were intentionally made “universal.” They were written to be played by anyone. That was the vision. And in a vacuum, I completely understand that.
But we’re not in a vacuum.
We’re in a moment where representation on Broadway is still very far from balanced. A moment where Asian actors, especially East Asian men, almost never get to play romantic leads. A moment where having someone like Darren Criss, who is part Filipino, win a Tony Award for playing a role in a Korean-set musical written by Korean artists was nothing short of monumental. And a moment where, just months later, that same role is being handed to a white actor.
That’s not just a casting decision. That’s a signal.
It tells us that even when a show is celebrated for its cultural specificity, even when it becomes a rare site of Asian visibility on a Broadway stage, that visibility can still feel conditional. Temporary. Reversible.
And that stings.
I believe the creators when they say they wanted the show to be as accessible and as open as possible. I believe they were inspired by the idea of The Fantasticks — something intimate and emotional, not tied to a particular face. But I think we have to talk about how “universality” has historically been coded as whiteness. When roles are open to anyone, they usually go to white actors. And when roles are finally given to Asian performers, especially ones that aren’t explicitly written around race or ethnicity, those opportunities are so rare that they carry enormous weight.
And here's the thing. If Oliver and Claire were truly intended to be ethnically open, it’s worth noting that every single understudy for both roles on Broadway has been an Asian actor. That’s not a coincidence. That’s a casting pattern, and one that reinforced the identity the audience had come to associate with the characters. So when the first major replacement is white, it doesn’t just feel like a change. It feels like a rupture.
The creators also express discomfort with the idea that “just seeing an Asian actor on stage” should signal that the show is set in Korea. I get the nuance they’re aiming for, the fear of reducing all Asian identity into one blurry shorthand. But that framing also downplays the joy and significance of seeing Asian actors in roles where they get to be tender, funny, romantic, and weird — not as cultural stand-ins, but as fully realized characters.
Because the truth is, specificity matters. And presence matters. And in a musical that’s literally set in Korea, casting Asian actors in the lead roles doesn’t feel reductive. It feels right.
There’s also a part of the statement that compares this casting decision to recent examples of inclusive casting — Asian actors playing Evan Hansen, Orpheus, Sally Bowles. Those are meaningful moments, absolutely. But those are also roles that were written white and later expanded. Maybe Happy Ending was born out of a Korean creative team, with a Korean setting, and opened on Broadway with an all-Asian cast. Comparing those two trajectories isn’t apples to apples.
Ultimately, I don’t think the outrage is about Andrew Barth Feldman as a performer. He’s clearly talented and a wonderful human being. And I believe the decision came from a mix of practicality, star power, personal connection, and artistic trust. But this moment, and this reaction, is about more than one actor. It’s about patterns. It’s about perception. It’s about how fragile progress can feel.
And for a lot of people, it’s personal.
I’m glad the creators took time to share their perspective. It helps to know where they’re coming from. But I hope they also keep listening to where the audience is coming from. Because when so few shows spotlight Asian stories, and even fewer offer Asian performers leading roles that are nuanced, romantic, and central, the way those roles get passed on really does matter.
If Maybe Happy Ending is going to live on, I hope its future includes many more Asian Olivers. Not because it has to. But because it can. Because it should. Because representation isn’t just about who gets to be cast. It’s about who gets to be remembered.