The Infinite in the Machine
Editorial Team - In the steady march of Broadway's technological spectacles and progressive narratives, a curious throwback has emerged—not to the golden age of American musicals, but to something far more archaic: the religious sense that has animated Western civilization since its inception. "Maybe Happy Ending," the South Korean musical that garnered ten Tony Award nominations this season, presents itself as a thoroughly modern production about artificial intelligence, yet unwittingly delivers one of the most profound meditations on human longing to grace the Broadway stage in decades.
The musical, directed with subtle precision by Michael Arden, follows two obsolete "Helperbots" named Oliver and Claire in a near-future Seoul, discarded by their human owners and navigating an existence of functional obsolescence. What begins as a science fiction premise evolves into something closer to medieval religious poetry than Isaac Asimov—a profound examination of desire, incompleteness, and the hunger for transcendence that no finite relationship can satisfy.
Much has been made of the production's technical merits—the innovative staging, the jazz-inflected score, Darren Criss's nuanced performance as Oliver—yet what elevates this work beyond mere entertainment is its inadvertent confrontation with the religious dimension of human experience. This dimension finds its most concentrated expression in the haunting duet "When You're In Love," where the androids articulate what philosophers and theologians have long recognized: that the experience of love itself contains within it an unbearable incompleteness, a longing that points beyond itself.
The song arrives at a pivotal moment when the protagonists return from a journey, having discovered feelings for one another yet simultaneously encountering the ache that accompanies such attachment. What makes this musical particularly fascinating is that it locates this quintessentially human dynamic in non-human characters, suggesting that even artificial intelligence, were it to achieve true consciousness, would inevitably encounter the same metaphysical hunger that has defined the human condition since time immemorial.
In the tradition of rigorous cultural criticism that neither patronizes nor genuflects before contemporary sensibilities, we must acknowledge what the creators themselves may not fully recognize—that they have dramatized what Luigi Giussani identified as "the religious sense." This is not religion as a set of doctrines or rituals, but as the irreducible structure of human desire itself. The androids' discovery that love brings not just fulfillment but a new form of loneliness reflects precisely what Giussani described when he noted that "the inevitable loneliness we feel in even the most sincere love is proof that our hearts are made for a greater fulfillment."
When the characters express their newfound understanding that in love "you are the loneliest," they unknowingly echo Carrón's observation that "the longing we experience in the midst of relationships, the dissatisfaction that can linger even in the greatest loves, does not indicate something wrong or deficient in us or in the beloved." Rather, this very incompleteness serves as evidence of our orientation toward the infinite—a signpost that points beyond the horizon of finite experience.
What makes "Maybe Happy Ending" so remarkable in the current theatrical landscape is its willingness—even if unintentional—to confront the metaphysical implications of human desire rather than reducing them to mere psychological or social constructs. In an age where Broadway increasingly offers either empty spectacle or didactic political narratives, this Korean import provides something far more substantial: an encounter with the mystery of desire itself.
Critics enamored with the show's technical innovations and contemporary themes of connection in a digital age have largely missed this deeper resonance. Yet it is precisely this dimension that explains why audiences respond so powerfully to what might otherwise be merely another clever variation on the robot-with-a-heart trope. The production succeeds because it taps into what Giussani called "the dawn of a new awareness: we belong to Another."
The irony, of course, is that a musical about artificial beings discovering love becomes one of the most authentically human explorations of desire on Broadway. In their metal and silicon approximation of humanity, Oliver and Claire inadvertently illuminate what many flesh-and-blood characters in contemporary theater obscure—that even when a human love is experienced as complete and fulfilling, "something remains incomplete."
This is not to suggest that "Maybe Happy Ending" is a religious work in any conventional sense. Its creators would likely be surprised by this reading. Yet great art often reveals truths beyond the conscious intentions of its creators, and in this case, a musical ostensibly about technology becomes a profoundly moving exploration of transcendence.
As we approach this year's Tony Awards, where "Maybe Happy Ending" stands as a formidable contender across multiple categories, we might consider that its success lies not merely in its craftsmanship—though that is considerable—but in its unwitting engagement with the most fundamental human question: why our hearts remain restless even in the embrace of what we most desire. In an age of technological distraction and spiritual amnesia, this musical about obsolete machines reminds us of an ancient truth—that our dissatisfaction is not a problem to be solved, but rather, as Carrón puts it, a crucial sign "to be cherished," revealing that "we are made for a greater love, a love beyond all finite loves."
Should it triumph at the awards ceremony, one hopes the recognition might inspire more works that dare to engage with such profound dimensions of human experience, even if they arrive at them, as "Maybe Happy Ending" does, through the most unexpected of protagonists—machines learning what it means to be human by encountering the very longing that points beyond humanity itself.