Thursday 3 October 2024

Dear Evan Hansen

 Curve, Leicester

2nd October, 2024


Sincerely, Me


The 2017 Tony Awards are controversial in our house. Benj Pasek and Justin Paul’s (music and lyrics) and Steven Levenson’s (book) 2015 musical stormed the ceremony that year, beating out tough competition. For us, Tim Minchin’s lyrical dexterity and subversive score for Groundhog Day, and Sankoff and Hein’s folky music and serene harmonies in Come From Away were far more worthy winners. But that’s the nature of award shows. Dear Evan Hansen, which opened its UK tour last month in a new production by Nottingham Playhouse, focuses on 21st century adolescence, the liberation vs. encumberment of social media, and the mental health pandemic sweeping the globe. With its anthemic score and heart-wrenching performances, the show will please its predominantly younger fanbase and newcomers alike.


The story – a teenager with social anxiety unintentionally goes viral when he claims to have been friends with a local boy that committed suicide – has the bones of a great drama. However, Levenson’s book doesn’t flesh out all of the central characters and some of its outrĂ© plot points are not fully resolved. The sensitive subject of teen suicide could be handled in several ways: an honest, deep and sympathetic portrayal of Connor Murphy, illuminating the true hardships of mental illness; or perhaps an intimate chamber piece looking at the aftermath and lasting effects on the family; or alternatively, we could be presented with a pitch-black social satire on the pitfalls of social media (echo chambers, #fakenews, morbid humble-bragging and self-publicising). Pasek, Paul and Levenson try to portray all three of these scenarios. It’s too much to cram into a show and the resulting lack of focus leads to an underdeveloped approach.


Evan Hansen is a solid protagonist, and in the capable hands of Ryan Kopel, he’s engaging and likeable in his relatable angsty ways, cleverly avoiding some of the annoying tics and pitfalls of Ben Platt’s performance in the 2021 film. Yet, there are several wasted opportunities for character development with the supporting characters – I’d have been fascinated to see more of the psychological reasoning behind the Murphys’ behaviour towards Evan following Connor’s death, and Levenson and co. missed a chance to draw more from the peculiar relationship between Evan and fellow loner Alana. The show’s denouement is problematically glossed over as well. One minute Evan’s secret is out and his world comes crashing down, the next we see him months later a slightly more confident young man, and the intervening seasons are wavered with the odd flippant remark. We see too little of the aftermath of this momentous revelation. It feels a cop out to present a show that addresses such serious topics and then drop the curtain just as it starts to get difficult.


I feel this muddled quality is partly down to the tonally jarring restrictiveness of Pasek and Paul’s songs. Their soaring melodies with sugary lyrics seem more fitting for TV talent shows than a sympathetic analysis of the complexities of the teenage social sphere. That’s not to say the songs aren’t commendable in their own right – they’re often extremely catchy (‘Waving through a Window’), uplifting (‘You Will Be Found’), and beautifully sung by the cast (‘So Big/So Small’). And I found that they sometimes do successfully advance character, in particular for Evan who’s so unable to articulate himself otherwise. But they detract from the dramatic clout the concept promises. Compared with the punchy music of Sater and Sheik’s Spring Awakening or the recent Donmar production of Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey’s Next to Normal, which share similar themes with piquancy and depth, Dear Evan Hansen can feel over-polished and po-faced.


Thankfully, Adam Penford’s production is freed from some of the shackles of the original production and provides a more expressive, dynamic staging. Chiefly, Morgan Large’s design is more aesthetically pleasing than the West End production. A series of sliding screens and mirrored prosceniums reflect, refract and distort the action, and act as a canvas for Ravi Deepres’ brilliant video design: a proliferation of social media posts, hashtags and TikTok live streams. It’s both a digital space and a literal one, populated with the school corridors, bedrooms and kitchens of modern America. Large has also effectively refreshed the costumes (gone is the iconic blue striped T-shirt synonymous with the Broadway production). For all intents and purposes, Dear Evan Hansen still feels like a one man show, but the supporting cast do a fine job with the material. In particular, Lauren Conroy believably captures Zoe’s internal conflict over her antagonistic feelings for her brother, and Alice Fearn impressively evokes the vulnerabilities and pride of Evan’s single mum. Killian Thomas Lefevre (as Connor) and Tom Dickerson (as Jared, Evan’s accomplice with a devilish sense of humour) also give enjoyable performances, especially in one of the show’s much needed lighter moments, ‘Sincerely, Me’. Vocally, the cast are all on top form and it’s in show’s big numbers such as ‘Waving Through a Window’ and ‘You Will Be Found’ that all creative disciplines come together to create exhilarating moments. But a musical is more than those moments alone, and in Dear Evan Hansen it’s a shame they’re not more substantially reinforced by the rest of the material. These points aside, there’s no doubting this is a triumph for Nottingham Playhouse which will embrace younger audiences around the UK.


Dear Evan Hansen plays at Curve, Leicester until 5th October as part of a UK tour. For further information, please visit https://www.evanontour.com/

The cast of Dear Evan Hansen. Credit: Marc Brenner