Emilio Bastré: Fragile Enough for a Strong Connection.
Skene Staff
Emilio Bastré is a Mexican actor and member of the Compañía Nacional de Teatro whose work lives at the intersection of freedom and craft.
Emilio Bastré is a Mexican actor and member of the Compañía Nacional de Teatro whose work lives at the intersection of freedom and craft.
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For Albert Hsueh, performance is more than craft—it’s cultural reclamation, personal truth, and collective connection. Born in Taiwan and now thriving in New York City’s musical theatre scene, Albert brings a rare mix of technical mastery and radical vulnerability to every role he inhabits. Whether portraying iconic characters or shaping new work, he leads with intention: to challenge stereotypes, champion visibility, and carve out space for Asian performers in Western theatre. From making history in Chicago to building community through grassroots organizing, Albert’s journey reflects both bold artistry and deep responsibility. He’s not just stepping into the spotlight—he’s making room for others to stand beside him.
In this edition of PROFILES, Albert’s voice rings loud with a clear message: personal stories have power, and representation can move hearts.
Growing up in Taiwan, I was deeply moved by the emotional power of storytelling through Theatre. That early fascination became a calling when I moved to NYC to pursue musical theatre professionally. Over time, that spark has evolved into a mission: to challenge representation, expand the narrative of Asian performers in the West, and explore human connection through my work—whether on stage or in events.
Performing in the musical Chicago as the first Taiwanese male actor was a landmark moment. Not only did it validate years of training and perseverance, but it also symbolized a breakthrough in cultural representation. The experience reminded me that visibility matters, and that owning your truth—no matter how unlikely your path—is a radical act of empowerment for others who share your identity.
Inspiration strikes from both routine and spontaneity. Touring with different companies trained me to be adaptable, but I always start from a grounded place: reading the script deeply, identifying emotional truth, and then building a character from physicality and vulnerability. In more personal storytelling projects, I pull from memory and real-life relationships—allowing honesty to guide the process.
Navigating cultural and professional barriers as an Asian immigrant in American theatre has been both my biggest challenge and greatest growth. Often I was the only one or two who looked or like me in a room. Rather than shrink, I chose to create space—founding the Taiwanese Artists Big Apple Club. These challenges made me more intentional and fearless in my artistry.
I’m inspired by artists who dare to be radically vulnerable—those who tell personal, messy, and truthful stories, especially from marginalized communities. Their courage fuels my work, whether I’m performing, creating, or organizing community. That inspiration shows up in my desire to connect, not impress—to reveal humanity rather than perfect technique.
There’s a growing shift toward authenticity, inclusivity, and interdisciplinary storytelling. Musical theatre is breaking traditional molds, with stories centering queer lives, BIPOC identities, and immigrant narratives. As someone who lives at these intersections, it’s thrilling to see space being made for our voices—not just in casting, but in creation and leadership.
Stop waiting for permission. No one else can define your voice, your worth, or your timing. Make work with what you have, tell your truth even when it’s uncomfortable, and build community. Especially for those of us on the margins, your story is not a liability—it’s your power.
I hope my work reminds people they’re not alone. Whether it’s a shared laugh in a musical, a tear in a storytelling circle, or a moment of being seen, I want audiences to walk away feeling more connected—to themselves and to others. If I can spark empathy, then I’ve done my job.
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