The first thing you’ll notice is that Evan Hansen is too old for the part. Are we supposed to imagine Ben Platt is a twelfth-year high-school senior or something? In evaluating how out-of-place, Evan looks, I’d skip “90210” too old and go straight to Grease too old. Platt, a physical cross between Tom Hulce and Fred Armisen, looks like he’s not appropriate for Algebra 2 so much as marriage #2; that will pass right?
What the body denies, the actor compensates. Platt has a wonderful singing voice, ideal for this material, and his body language has mastered “cowed teen.” The age isn’t right, but everything else is, so I’m giving him a pass. For now.
The second thing you’ll notice is that our Dear Evan Hansen is not terribly happy, nor is his story. There’s shy that comes out of a belief that world might chew you up and spit you out and there’s shy that comes with the knowledge that it already has. Evan belongs to the latter. His therapist has skipped the “daily affirmations” stuff and gone straight to “write yourself a letter every day.” I’m not quite sure what this is supposed to accomplished, but if nothing else, it looks like you have friend … and this where our story begins.
It’s the first day of school and Evan is the kid with an unsigned cast … and nobody offers to sign it, which should be all you need to know. Sprinkled throughout Evan’s day-one mess is Connor (Colton Ryan), a jerk. Connor seems to be a loner not because of fear, but personality issues. It matters little in high school; once you get a label, it’s hard to unstick. In a moment we can cherish if for no other reason than its lack of brazen hostility, Connor befriends Evan in printer queue in the library. The two loners make an ever-so-brief connection. Connor even signs Evan’s cast, which makes one want to smile that these two pariahs may at least have each other … and then Connor finds a “Dear Evan Hansen” letter, discovers that part of the letter discusses Connor’s sister Zoe (Kaitlyn Dever), and runs off with it in dickish horror.
What’s Connor going to do with the letter? Why was he so repulsed by the idea of Evan being into Zoe? How is this going to have an outcome other than dreadful?
It isn’t, of course. Fearing the worst, a personal vulnerability exposed to all, Evan gets something he didn’t guess: Connor committed suicide, and he did so with Evan’s self-affirmation letter in his back pocket, making it appear that the “Dear Evan Hansen” letter was a suicide note written by Connor to his best –and only- friend, Evan. Hoo boy. And what do you do when Connor’s parents (Amy Adams and Danny Pino) invite you to dinner looking to see if their son had a soul or when Zoe
finally notices who you are?
In Evan’s case, it’s ballad time. The music is the best part of this film. I wouldn’t say the numbers are upbeat Disney or anything, but there’s a strange hope and connection as Evan himself advances over the course of the film from “Waving Though a Window” (a song about isolation and invisibility) to “You Will Be Found,” a song essentially telling himself he’s not alone.
Dear Evan Hansen is a movie about depression and isolation; it’s not one where the guy gets the girl and it certainly isn’t one where an average loser can get away with THE BIG LIE. Hence there’s a maturity to this material that goes well beyond age-appropriate acting and “Hakuna Matata.” I can’t say this is anywhere near the best musical I’ve ever seen, but if the music is great and the story is mature, it compensates for quite a lot. It is a shame imdb voters and rotten tomatoes critics are not seeing it as I am.
A nerd feigns a friendship, Oh Lord
With the loner whose suicide was ignored
I believe in you, man
Don’t yet scrap this plan
All you need is a (BFF) bracelet and a Ouija Board
Rated PG-13, 137 Minutes
Director: Stephen Chbosky
Writer: Steven Levenson
Genre: Musicals for people who don’t want to be cheered up
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: People in need of support
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: People who don’t even like happy musicals
