'Dear Evan Hansen' Review
PG-13: Thematic material involving suicide, brief strong language, and some suggestive references
Runtime: 2 Hrs and 17 Minutes
Production Companies: Marc Platt Productions, Perfect World Pictures
Distributor: Universal Pictures
Director: Stephen Chbosky
Writer: Steven Levenson
Cast: Ben Platt, Kaitlyn Dever, Amandla Stenberg, Nik Dodani, Colton Ryan, Danny Pino, Julianne Moore, Amy Adams
Release Date: September 24, 2021
In Theaters
Evan Hansen, a young man beset by a social anxiety disorder, is ordered by his therapist to write self-addressed motivational letters to himself in order to improve his disposition and communication skills. After one of these missives is stolen by a classmate who subsequently takes his own life, the deceased's parents believe it to be a genuine note intended for Evan, who ingratiates himself with the family. As this relationship deepens, he begins to truly understand what it means to belong.
Every cast member who has to hold a tune shines in their respective musical numbers. Amandla Stenberg has a wonderful voice, Kaitlyn Dever has an amazing voice, Julianne Moore (who hasn’t sung since high school) shines so brightly. Amy Adams! It’s been a whole decade since America’s underdog Amy Adams sang in a musical feature. Dear Evan Hansen is the first time since The Muppets where she sings on-screen and SHE STILL GOT THE VOICE. Everybody brings their A-game vocal range to the film and by God, they all deserve better than this dumpster fire of a musical adaptation.
When a smash Broadway show reaches a certain level of popularity, the next logical decision is to adapt it for the big screen. Lately, Universal Pictures has been proving that certain musicals just don't make for a good feature. Tom Hooper’s adaptation of Cats was a prime example of that in 2019. Dear Evan Hansen doubles down on that notion.
Evan Hansen (Ben Platt) suffers from social anxiety disorder and feels invisible at his school and at home with his single mom (Julianne Moore) who is busy working at a hospital and barely sees her son. He’s so incredibly alone that nobody would sign his cast on his broken arm. As part of an assignment from his therapist, Evan writes letters to himself to express his innermost thoughts and feelings. When he prints his paper out at school, the angsty and misunderstood Connor Murphy (Colton Ryan) finds it. Because the letter happens to mention Connor’s sister Zoe (whom Evan has a crush on), Connor takes the letter in a huff. A few days later, Connor’s parents show up at the school in shambles. They tell Evan that the letter was the last piece of their son they had left, assuming that it was a suicide note and that they were friends. They also see Connor’s signature on his cast (he was the only person who signed it), so to give them peace of mind during trying times, Evan creates a small white lie. When this little fib brings him closer to Connor’s family, including Zoe, he starts spinning a large web of lies.
When musical productions are performed on stage, there’s a certain illusion that is held by an audience that will power them through a show. You’re not there to criticize the story itself, but the music and performances and stage presence. Theater and film are two different realms that hold vastly different suspensions of disbelief. For someone like Ben Platt, who has played this character for the majority of his 20s, his performance comes off as disingenuous for multiple reasons. Though his voice is pitch-perfect as usual, this 27-year-old man physically looks too old to portray this teenager. He looks so out of place because he doesn't have those baby face attributes to translate this character's leap to film. To further how weird this is for me, the first movie I saw Platt in was Pitch Perfect where he played a college freshman. When that movie was released, I was a freshman in high school. 9 years later, I’m a post-undergrad college student and he’s playing a high school senior. It’s utterly distracting. From the get-go, you’ll be playing the “try not to laugh” challenge when Evan Hansen comes down in the opening song and his mom says, “You are a senior in high school.” No matter how beautiful Ben Platt’s voice is and how wonderful it is to hear him sing these beloved songs with a cinematic orchestra blaring behind him, it’s difficult to take his performance seriously when he physically towers over others. He just exudes major, “How do you do, fellow kids?” energy. It doesn't help that there are extras who look like kids filling the halls so it makes him look more out of place.
Apart from that, the motion in his performance is very theatrical. He’s acting as if he’s on stage where you can get away with an over-the-top depiction of anxiety. Through his physicality, Platt’s cartoonish depiction gives this character, who is only meant to have social anxiety, more mental illnesses than he’s supposed to possess. This is what someone who's never met a socially awkward person thinks a socially awkward person behave.
I adore director Stephen Chbosky who has done many great film adaptations of beloved novels, including his own (The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Given that this is his first musical feature, the cinematic quality lacks visual splendor. Chbosky maintains his signature flair, using a grounded and personalized lens for his characters to deliver realism. But with various techniques like shot composition using handheld and sequences that are on a Disney Channel-level of quality as far as cinematography goes, it’s utterly underwhelming. The musical numbers vary in quality and most lack creativity. By the time “Be Found” comes on, it’s like an afterschool PSA commercial.
Theater and film alike, Dear Evan Hansen has always had a batshit problematic premise. Steven Levenson’s writing comes off as cloying, irresponsible, and as messy as the hateful lead himself. Evan Hansen is a detestable protagonist devoid of any heart or charm, for he spends the movie spreading lies about a kid’s suicide to various sincere yet one-note characters for self-gain. The more damaging Evan’s lies become, the more confident he gets about himself. The boy gets everything he ever wanted by gaslighting just about everyone around him. Never for a moment do you get a sense of humanity or empathy weighing on him. Everything about this experience is depicted as therapeutic for him while being unrelenting and unapologetic for his actions. Because the film omits numbers from the play that give the audience some form of a soul for its lead, it results in him looking more like a genuine sociopath than a pathological liar.
The most egregious moments of Evan’s disgusting behavior occur when you get scenes featuring his loving, hard-working mom who is the absolute sweetest and is the only character who feels dimensional and real. He pushes his mom away in such a spiteful manner where his speech pattern and body movement switch up on a dime. By the time he tells his mom off for doing a genuine, logical thing for his benefit, he hits the point of no return and you despise him. When the inevitable reveal occurs and the film goes into his redemption arc, I’m like, “Buddy, we have reached the center of the earth of irredeemability. I fucking hate this guy.”
If you positioned this story from the family’s POV, it’d be a psychological thriller similar to Parasite since the grieving Murphy family is rich and this lower-class kid finds his way in with their unit and dates their daughter. Alas, you follow this Joker-type lead, and much like that movie, Dear Evan Hansen offensively blames Evan’s actions on his mental illness. Levenson’s script thinks it actually explores the heavy subject matter of mental health and suicide while the lead is exploiting it. Man, this entire story has always been fucked up and somehow this adaptation makes it even worse.
As far as “little white lie” storylines go, Dear Evan Hansen is on the same spectrum of cringe as Shark Tale. The telegraphed direction that Chbosky brings to the big screen is as much of a dud as Jon M. Chu’s 2015 film Jem and the Holograms. The ill-conceived and irresponsible plot is offensive and emotionally manipulative as you’re completely detached from a hella unlikable lead making selfish and sociopathic decisions. Congrats, Sia! Your Music has a drinking buddy. Good luck defending this mess, musical theater people!
