Why I Personally Love Dear Evan Hansen

Over the past decade, I have grown to love musicals more with each passing year. If I’m not in a theater watching them live, then I have the Original Broadway Cast Recordings ready for a quick pick-me-up. While I would say that there are hundreds of great songs out there and several shows that I would be thrilled to watch, the quest for a personal favorite has been difficult. As you can guess, I need to not only recognize its quality but feel some personal connection to them. The older I get, the more complicated that scenario becomes, starting with shows like The Book of Mormon that existed more as a comical takedown of America and evolving into these insular stories of personal struggles.

I know that Dear Evan Hansen has gotten criticism for painting a portrait of loneliness and mental health that feels manipulative, even pathetic. Some wouldn’t consider it groundbreaking for opening a discussion that’s probably obvious. I am willing to listen to those criticisms, accepting that Evan Hansen is imperfect. I’m not quite at the point that he’s evil, but anyone who is mad that it beat Come From Away at the Tony Awards, I hear you. That show is easily the greatest piece of entertainment based around 9/11 to ever exist. 

When I realize how much I love Dear Evan Hansen, I think of a show that I don’t particularly like: Rent. Even when I was in my early-20’s, its precocious optimism was cloying. Sure you had “Seasons of Love,” but… that’s it? I am more able to appreciate it in a larger theater conversation, realizing that in the late-90s there weren’t as many mainstream options for LGBT representations. It was a new form of expression, a raw nerve that would suffer because of how earnest it was about these hot-button issues. It was no Falsettos, but I doubt those teens wanted to watch a Jewish kid who cannot play baseball play baseball.

Because of this, I do wonder if Dear Evan Hansen will age well, reflecting a complicated view on anxiety and social connection in the digital age. I do believe that it will, if just because there are not as many small moments that feel jarring right now. These are teenagers expressing themselves in a manner that is built on character, presenting their status on the stage from lights shaped like cellphones. It helps that I personally believe that Benj Pasek and Justin Paul’s songbook is perfect, full of these layers that play into humanity’s ability to deflect and adapt in conversations, holding us back from this deeper meaning.

This show is something so personal that it will always trigger an emotion in me. I know that most of our favorite entertainment comes to us in times of grief and that is what happened in this case. Without getting into very private matters, I will share the story of how Dear Evan Hansen helped me cope with insecurity that lead to this mild depression in 2017 and 2018.

I actually saw this cast live, as lead by Ben Levi Ross (left)

Around July 2017, a person I trusted started misbehaving. After three or four years of believing them to be a trustworthy person, they began to go down a bad route. Having talked to their friends, it was discovered that without a good social group, they were doomed to follow the crowd, being rowdy, and unproductive. They were in college, looking at graduation, putting their life together.

The issue is that the crowd produced a new love interest and someone who defied current social standings. It was ugly. The cops were called following a very nasty fight that spilled into the front yard. Whereas they had the chance of accepting this as the dumbest shit they’ve ever done and worked towards making amends, they chose to drove cross country, never to see those who had grown an affection for them. 

This person created trauma in me that lasted almost a whole year. They had ruined my 28th birthday and I had built trust issues. I was eager to make my 29th birthday more joyous and full of meaning. It thankfully was, but for as triumphant as the year to come was, I was still hesitant to be happy.

I cannot claim that Dear Evan Hansen single-handedly healed me, but its timing was eerie. I first discovered the show when watching The Tony Awards and seeing the cast perform “Waving Through a Window.” Watching Ben Platt run through his co-stars only to have them face away was a feeling that I recognized. This was something I recognized in myself, even if I misunderstood it as waving through a window as in a computer screen. It was more of a conventional one, like on a house that mutes the sound outside. Was anyone waving back at me?

The OBCR would eventually come out and I found that it was even stronger as this tapestry of music. Without context, they were catchy songs that I insinuated deeper meaning in. Like most shows, it left a positive impression on me, though I wouldn’t say that I became as obsessed with the soundtrack like I did with The Book of Mormon seven years prior. I liked it, but I knew that any experience I had would need to have the visual accompaniment, of the stage bringing to life this story.

The build-up to seeing it for the first time at The Ahmanson in Los Angeles, CA was a gateway into attending theater more regularly. Thanks to Today Tix, I won two tickets to the show and got to witness everything unfold. At the time I had the hyperbolic gall to say that it was like looking into the future of theater. In all honesty, it was probably because the hanging digital screens hypnotized me.

The show has an expensive sense of minimalism that I had yet to really see in a theater. The digital screens weren’t projecting a clear picture, but words wandering around the stage. You could read them, but their scattered nature best understood the mentality of these characters. There were no other backdrops (at least until the ending). This was our insight into the characters who were wheeled onto the stage using nothing more than a piece of furniture, like a bed or a couch. It was like it existed in a computer, where our lives are connected but they’re all so impersonal even in the most intimate of exchanges.

At the center of the story is a fateful meeting between Evan Hansen and Connor Murphy. Both reflect a socially awkward dynamic, feeling like outcasts suffering from different levels of depression. Evan gets by writing these self-help letters, hoping that they will boost his self-esteem. When Connor commits suicide and his body is found with one of those letters, Evan realizes that he can use this opportunity to act like he has friends, finding a bigger purpose in this world than being the dweeb who fell out of a tree and broke his arm.

Sure, I understand where this can be construed as heartless and desperate. Many of his decisions are rooted in this sense of manipulation. However, I found that it was a chance to explore through these various characters more personal forms of emptiness. If it wasn’t a dead son, then it was this pressure to be a good single mother to a son who wasn’t quite applying himself, constantly at work, and leaving money on the counter for pizza. There are people who feel marginalized, looking for a chance to be heard. While Evan’s story is the most prominent, this is a story centered around others finally getting their chance to express themselves and their struggles.

It’s why the show opens up with Heidi Hansen singing “Does Anybody Have a Map?” instead of making it about Evan. Songs like “Requiem” find the Murphy family contemplating their own grief over Connor. 

There’s even the most underrated song in the whole show: “To Break In A Glove.” If you want to understand why I think every song is genius, you can find it here. While “Sincerely Me” captures more directly how these characters are manipulating reality to fulfill their own satisfaction, this Act II opener is quiet, allowing us a chance into the otherwise distant Larry Murphy, father of Connor who has felt background up until this point.

His big break involves teaching Evan how to break in a baseball glove. As he states:

It takes a little patience

It takes a little time

A littler perseverance 

And a little uphill climb

The song is goofy, lacking the memorability of every other song on here. It’s nowhere near as devastating as “So Big, So Small.” In fact, any sadness it has is presented as an afterthought. As it rounds the bases to home, Larry sings about his son, growing somber. You get a rare glimpse into how he feels like he let Connor down, that he never gave him the patience and perseverance to succeed. While he sees potential in Evan, it’s not enough to bring Connor back.

It’s never directly stated, but you can picture years of Larry and Connor trying to see eye to eye, realizing the tragedy of youth involves rebellion. Connor is the type who is told that he can’t go to school high, so he decides instead that he won’t go. Other songs like “Good For You” directly address their frustration that Evan thinks that he’s the only one suffering, bringing the theme into focus in the clearest way as the harmonies mix, we get “family friend” Jared getting a rare song to vent his frustration after serving as the comic folly for most of the show. It’s all warranted. 

If there’s an irony, it’s that the only song with complete transparency is “Words Fail,” which finds Evan singing so painfully through his emotion that he explains why he did it. He needed to feel like he belonged somewhere, and he hates that this complicated web left him even more alone after making the world feel more unified. It’s also about where you realize that Ben Platt is great and is deserving of every last accolade for this show.

In simplest terms, watching Dear Evan Hansen in 2018 was the equivalent of that trope of “media as therapy.” It never directly presented a scenario that I recognized as one I had recently experienced, and yet I understood those emotions clearly, where we’re pushing through dishonesty to find something truer. I understand that some people find this insufferable and aren’t as charmed by the nuance, but for me in a state of feeling hopeless, I needed to see a show reflect a society that suffered from not talking about their problems, where Connor died because nobody listened. Because Evan started a dialogue, even if it was based on a white lie, the world was allowed to change for the better.

There are other reasons that I felt better going into my 29th birthday, but there is something symbolic in Dear Evan Hansen being there. Here was a character I recognized in myself, awkward and stumbling through words. Maybe I never had his story, but I remain someone who believes in the power of communication, that through listening we are capable of growing as individuals as well as socially. It’s why My Fair Lady is my favorite musical, period. It’s also a big reason why I can think about any song from Dear Evan Hansen and understand the multiple ways it can be interpreted, both as literal and symbolic of some deeper repressed pain.

I would see the show again on that tour in 2019 when it played the Segerstrom in Costa Mesa, CA. Add in that it was the first time that I saw a first touring production of a show made this moment feel even sweeter. Maybe I didn’t get Ben Platt, but I got to see Ben Levi Ross from the second row, feeling like he had usurped the master. My only regret is that I haven’t seen the show more, because I feel the need to take whoever is willing to deal with me to the show, allowing them to see something that I so personally connect to, telling them about how it makes me feel better.

I know that we all have different things we look for in art. For me, it has always been a place to confront the joys and pains of life with a safe distance. For whatever reason, I have never strayed from engaging with the tough subject matter because I believe it enhances my understanding, challenging what I hold deep down, and keeps me from resting on comfort. Dear Evan Hansen may tear apart those not ready for an emotional journey into the self, but for me, it was a masterpiece that is paving the way for a new generation of theater (see also: Fun Home, Next to Normal, and Be More Chill).

I also chose to write about the show this week because of one reason: today is the “end of May or early June.” It’s a moment in the show that has come to hold a deeper significance for Evan as he paints this picture of joy with Connor that never existed. The joy of a perfect moment is overwhelming, and the composition by Pasek and Paul in “For Forever” alone reflects every small thing that they perfected to capture the most emotion. It’s a show that looks towards summer as this time to be free, though it comes to mean it in a very different way.

May was also Mental Health Awareness Month, and few shows have done as much to raise awareness quite like Dear Evan Hansen (they have been prominent supporters of The Trevor Project). I’m sure that I would’ve resolved my personal matters on my own, but there was something more fulfilling about seeing this show getting accolades, realizing that there was a chance to see this conversation be taken more seriously. In a time where I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone, hearing someone sing “You are not alone” made all of the difference. I don’t know if this show will age well. I really hope it does. I’m sure it will because many more have likely felt like me and saw this show at the right time.

I could go on for forever about this show, but I won’t. I’ll just tell you that after three weeks talking about Ben Platt-centric entertainment that I’m taking a break… until The Politician season two, anyways.