Dear Evan Hansen
Reviewed by Socks Whitmore
Ahmanson Theatre
Through July 30, 2022
RECOMMENDED
After almost four years away from Los Angeles, the North American tour of Dear Evan Hansen has once again landed at Center Theatre Group’s Ahmanson Theatre, but though the story hasn’t changed, the world around it has. Even before the infamously flopped release of the film adaptation, the Tony-winning musical had been something of a controversial topic; now, the seven-year-old show presents themes of mental health, community, and losing the thread to a deeply divided public in a society completely rattled by the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, who have heard nothing but scathing reviews of the 2021 Universal movie.
In both the film and the original Broadway show, Dear Evan Hansen is the story of a neurodiverse, anxious high schooler who feels completely alone and doesn’t see a future for himself, not even with the girl he likes—that is, until his classmate Connor dies by suicide and a letter that Evan wrote to himself is mistaken for the suicide note. One little lie to bring peace to Connor’s parents turns into something much, much more, and Evan suddenly finds himself launched into the spotlight. Criticism of Evan as a protagonist has plagued the musical for years: his manipulation of the people around him, the selfish motivations that emerge as his falsehood gains legs, the messy romance that unfolds between him and his longtime crush, Connor’s younger sister. But from where this reviewer is standing, those audiences are missing the very reason this show sprouted such massive wings. DEH is an examination of grief, broken families, the unspoken inner anguish that is a universal experience for countless young people, and the flawed choices we make in our desperation to feel seen.
On the heels of Ben Platt’s iconic origination of the role and reprisal of it in the film adaptation, Anthony Norman as Evan Hansen has big shoes to fill, but he does not disappoint. Norman exudes tangible neurodivergency and leans into the character’s anxiety, influenced by but distinct from Platt’s own autistic-like realization of Evan as seen on screen. Norman’s performance of an anxiety attack while public speaking hits especially hard with its roots in realism, though other moments such as the climactic number “Words Fail” lack the raw, guttural energy so pristinely captured on the cast album. For audience members familiar with the score, expectations in this regard are perhaps skewed; the role of Evan Hansen is one of intense mental and physical demand that in an on-stage environment forces the performer to choose between vocal technique and emotional devastation, and any actor in the role is already a champion for inhabiting such intense, sustained anxiety six nights a week (with matinees).
The musical may be named after the character of Evan, but truly this is an ensemble show. From the delicious narcissism of Micaela Lamas as Alana Beck to Nikhil Saboo’s ability to turn his energy on and off as Connor Murphy, the cast’s acting is solid across the board. The blocking alone lends itself to a sense of swarming urgency, creating the illusion that the cast of eight is far larger. The real magic is in the showstopper ensemble numbers like “You Will Be Found” and “Good For You” that combine intelligent countermelodies with elaborate lighting and projection use for moments of cinematic awe. The use of projection design to illustrate the overwhelming presence of the digital world is one of the show’s iconic features, and in many moments, the elaborate, constant shifting of partially blurred fragments of Facebook, Spotify, and other household Internet names captures the fractured psyche of Evan and his silently struggling peers. The use of layers to create three-dimensional depth around the actors and tight lighting cues to give visual shape to the characters’ isolation is especially impressive. However, at times the projection visuals are oversaturated and miss opportunities for motion—the magic works best in total darkness. Some of the smaller blocking moments can also get stagnant or awkward, especially in transition to and from the moments of ensemble brilliance.
As we consider the way that Dear Evan Hansen successfully spearheaded a mental health movement among its fans in contrast with the still-fresh failure of the show’s cinematic retelling, one might wonder why this show has resulted in such polarizing receptions. The script that won Best Book and Best Musical at the 2017 Tony Awards contained an inner dialogue between Evan and the imagined spirit of Connor Murphy, highlighting the parallels between these two distinctly different people who still ultimately shared the experience of internal suffering from mental illness, and unapologetically dug into the way that Evan appropriated and capitalized upon Connor’s story—all things that didn’t make it into the 2021 film, which instead shifted the narrative towards the collective internal suffering of Evan’s peers and Evan’s inability to know who Connor was until he decides to try. Both versions of Evan have been criticized, and yet when audience members at the Ahmanson clapped for moments in the show that were clear demonstrations of toxic parenting, it calls into the question the reliability of the public itself to understand what the show is trying to say; a bold reviewer might say that some audiences just aren’t ready for this message.
Though other critics may focus on the narrative’s flaws, Dear Evan Hansen is one of the most deeply moving pieces of musical theater playing on stages today. Audiences should bring tissues, a shoulder to cry on, and an open heart; this mental health musical might just change you for the better.
Ahmanson Theatre, 135 N Grand Ave, Los Angeles; Tues.-Sat., 8:00 PM // Sat., 2:00 PM // Sun., 1:00 PM & 6:30 PM. https://www.centertheatregroup.org/tickets/ahmanson-theatre/2021/dear-evan-hansen/ Running time: 2 hours and 35 minutes including one 15-minute intermission
