Whether you’ve heard of its origin story off-Broadway before its global success, Dear Evan Hansen (DEH) is a beautifully funny, heart-breaking, and emotional musical theatre gift to remind us of the universal truth of never finding our feet in our own modern world. Bringing its characters and audience together in the solemnity of death, book writer Steven Levenson’s image of finding hope in the Pandora’s box. In this case, its mythological contents is much more terrifyingly potent, filled with the 21st Century woes of lack of human connections, familial misunderstandings, social anxiety, and navigating the broken realms of high school hallways. DEH and its journey of change is something we have all experienced and will comfort in its propagation of the fact that we are not alone.
DEH follows the story of Evan Hansen, a teenager who suffers from crippling social anxiety, attempting to make his way through the overwhelming labyrinth of American high school one day at a time. However, he quickly finds himself in a scheme to help a family recover from an untimely death. His small lie drastically spins out of his control, feeding into a cycle of self-doubt. Uncovering the dangers, burdens, and reflective sentiments of social media simultaneously evokes a sense of nostalgia for a time before the burdens of completely instant communication, while finding the joy in what seems to be largely grey world.
Accompanying Evan’s world is a plethora of music, originally written by Benki Pasek and Justin Paul, whose credits include composing for ‘La La Land’ and ‘The Greatest Showman’. The score uncannily mirrors the very heartbeat, elations, diverges, and uncertainties of the very characters singing them. This is undoubtedly true for the electrifying ‘Waving Through A Window’, brought to life by Ben Platt. Setting the theme for the entire play, the tracking of what experiencing social anxiety is like is key to recognising and understanding a Evan. Yet, we are acquainted with a wealth of characters through Pasek and Paul’s poetry (which is directed by Matt Smith on the West End), most namely through ‘Anybody Have A Map’ and the permanent struggles of miscommunication within families, and ‘Requiem’, displaying the destruction of a death upon those close enough to suffer irreparable consequences. DEH’s score is its literal heartbeat and progresses the play through the currency of melody.
Unquestionably, DEH would not be as wonderfully expressed if it didn’t have its talented and emotionally intelligent cast. Leading the company, Sam Tutty presents an Evan that is equal parts funny, relatable, and enlightening. Viewing the different intonations and rhetoric used throughout the play ensures that Tutty’s Evan is posed as both a realistic individual and the audience’s kindred being. Following in Platt’s Tony Award-Winning legacy is no easy feat but Tutty’s performance enables him to showcase his individual talents that presents a different but equally compelling Evan. The remaining cast, including Lucy Anderson and Doug Colling, hold their own and share the burdens of meeting and accepting grief alongside Evan. Stylistically, the play’s more hyperbolic acting method is a direct export from the Broadway stage, and not typically seen in the West End. Initially, its large and obvious actions can be viewed as misplaced before they are rendered necessary to establish context and define the story. Its style is, rather, purposeful and not a gratuitous copy.
One of the breakout plays that genuinely warms and breaks your heart, DEH is an experience that mitigates the harsh reality of existence, whilst acknowledging the pain of simply being a human being.