In the grand scheme of things, there are few actual celebrities that I care to be in the same room as. I don’t necessarily want to meet them so much as witness what it feels like to be in the same room. Maybe I’ll pick up an aura that I’ll never forget. There’s hundreds, if not thousands, of people whose work I admire, but there’s only a handful that I consume and hypothesize about potentially watching them simply exist before me.
Ben Platt is one of them. In my imagination, my ideal encounter would be watching him in a Broadway play. I wanted to fill the chills of him hitting those high notes in Parade, or even the withering beauty of “Words Fail” from Dear Evan Hansen. To me, he’s one of those artists who has evolved in my imagination. Much like how I listen to my mom share stories of seeing Mandy Patinkin and Bernadette Peters in Sunday in the Park With George, I wanted to have that story with my generation’s equivalent.
I’m aware that it’s easy to make fun of him, and I’ve had my fair share of punchlines. He sings with his eyes closed. Dear Evan Hansen (2021) was maybe a bit too misguided and The Politician never got him anywhere. Even then, one truth remains: I am a big fan. I kid with affection, knowing that I’d plop down money to see Theater Camp (2023) and hope that it symbolized the start of him finally becoming more of a movie star. He’s been great in the music world, but I’d forgive anyone who believes his cinematic output is uninspiring.
Thanks to Lucky Seat, I won tickets to see Platt at The Greek Theater in Los Angeles, CA. It would be my first significant live concert in well over a decade. For as much as I longed to sit there and feel my heart racing to “You Will Be Found,” I knew he’d be covering his solo work. It wasn’t my ideal scenario, but sometimes you take what you get. If he ever does a cabaret set on the west coast, I may consider being more critical. For now, it’s a chance to humor his pop star fantasies.
Another thing that is difficult to fully appreciate from a digital microcosm is how successful someone is. Where I exist in an area where nobody has talked about “Reverie” or “Honeymind,” it turns out that there’s enough people who like Platt to fill The Greek Theater. Before the show started, I sat in the outdoor venue watching the screens project upcoming events. In the mix was Platt with a rectangular “SOLD OUT” sign across a picture of him with arms sprawled out. Something about it caught me off guard. In my mind, he was drawing a mid-level crowd simply because very little of what he had done would be considered a phenomenon. To know there were that many people who had similar affection for Platt in Southern California warmed my heart.
The house music played as everyone waited for the show. To The Greek’s credit, it’s a very navigable location. Even its odd placement in the hills didn’t serve for as many headaches as Verizon Amphitheater in Irvine, CA. Incline aside, there wasn’t that much to worry about. I was even able to visit the merch booth without noticeable wait times and ample service. Meanwhile, I waited for the seating area to open as women sang along to Chappell Roan. Elsewhere I heard Liza Minnelli and the disco version of Ethel Merman’s “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” Add in some soft rock of the 70s, and I could tell that this was going to be a welcoming crowd.
A small reason that I hoped Platt would play some of his Broadway hits came from who he chose for opener. To parrot a shirt I saw at the merch booth: who the fuck is Brandy Clark? It seemed like an odd fit to pair the up-and-coming country musician with Platt’s more Top 40 sound, but then I remembered that both had their foot in the theater scene. While I didn’t recognize any of Clark’s original work, I was treated to a medley of tunes from the Tony-winning Shucked. Whereas I have been struggling to appreciate the show on record, there was something about Clark’s renditions on acoustic guitar that sold me. Along with the expected jokes about the show being corny, it was maybe the most pleasant product placement I have seen in a long time.
To give Clark some respect, I actually found her set to be enjoyable. Accompanied only by an additional guitarist, she performed a handful of songs in the storyteller mold. Each one was prefaced by a story to the story, making the whole thing feel more intimate and vulnerable. Whereas some performers I’ve watched get to the song without much preamble, I found Clark’s mellow pacing to be rather affecting. To her credit, joking about pandemic records and being reckless in high school only added to her appeal.
For as much as the crowd was clearly there for Platt, I think she did a great job of winning everybody over. While I can’t recall every song she performed, there was a lot of camaraderie and singalongs. At one point she covered Kacey Musgraves’ “Follow Your Arrow” and got pockets of the theater to chant along to the chorus. As with Platt later on, her music is queer friendly and this song in particular was welcoming people to be themselves. In an age where bigotry and bullies feel more prominent than ever, it was a relief to not only hear a country singer embrace the freedom of self-expression, but have an entire room laugh at Platt later joke about choosing to be gay.
If nothing else happens in 2024, I will be thankful to have spent time surrounded by queer friendly events like The WNBA and A Strange Loop. I understand that Los Angeles is easily more accepting than a lot of states in the union, but it sometimes feels like those days are numbered. To have Platt come out in heels and perform the Cabaret song “Maybe This Time” in a fur coat while saying, “Thank you for supporting my delusions” only helps to make me feel like some things are right in the world.
For as much as this isn’t Dear Evan Hansen, Platt very much feels like the living embodiment of that character. The only exception is that he’s more socially adjusted. Otherwise, he shares the jittery candidness where he can’t walk to a water bottle without reading his stage directions. He says what’s on his mind, and it comes across as cute and relatable. For as much as his story was about being the son of Marc Platt and being immediately accepted as gay, he still managed to feel understanding of his audience. He could wink and poke fun at silly ideas while keeping the show electric.
This wasn’t “Ben Platt in Parade,” but it was something I would cherish even more.
For as much as I prefer his musical contributions, his pop material plays so much better live. Like his opener, a large part of the appeal is everything that falls in between the numbers. While I wasn’t close enough to tell if he was closing his eyes while singing, there was plenty to love about the movement. He’d swing his arms and move around the stage while acknowledging audience members he found interesting. This would often be met with a commentary about what he was thinking during the song or preparing an introduction for the next.
If I ever wanted to be in the same room as Platt, this was the most ideal. When you watch Dear Evan Hansen, you aren’t seeing Platt as his authentic self. Yes, theater is in his veins. However, I came to realize that in his pop music he revealed a lot of personal truths that weren’t restricted by character. The pacing was flabby and at times a speech lingered too long, but more importantly I was getting the feeling that this was Platt. Everything I saw over those 90ish minutes was what he wanted to present to the world. He was shameless and radiant. While there were theater songs, they weren’t his own. They were the type that many probably grew up singing from their bedrooms into a hairbrush. In some ways, this disconnect made him more relatable.
I’m willing to accept that a large reason that I loved the show was because of how few concerts I have gone to in my adult life. I’m sure if I came back to The Greek in a few months to see St. Vincent that I’d feel that rush all over again. There is a novelty to seeing somebody you love sing songs you like. Even then, I think Platt’s greatest attribute isn’t that he’s trying to be larger than life. He’s merely trying to find ways to connect with his audience. He’s willing to apologize for calling the song “Andrew” solely because it rhymed with “damn you.” Most importantly, at no point did the audience feel like it turned against him. It was an absolute lovefest.
He also does a great job of celebrating those around him. Towards the end of the show he introduced his band giving enthusiastic introductions. Even after doing it a handful of times, he held the hypeman energy until the very last one had gotten applause. He even acknowledged musicians he had worked with over several albums. When checking to see how many fans had seen him before, he joked about being happy with repeat sales. He even gave a shoutout to his exes and friends who were recently married. When Clark came out to perform “Treehouse,” they quipped about having matching shoes. Laufey was also there and you best believe the room went crazy at that surprise guest.
With some regret, I left during before the last song to use the bathroom. Thankfully, it was close enough that the audio carried to the urinal. Given that Platt once joked in his Netflix concert film about using the bathroom midset, it sort of felt like an apt way to finish the evening. Still, I was able to get back to the walkway in time to see him finish the number.
For as great as watching the show from comfortable seats was, there was something about standing among a small group on the outskirts of the venue seeing him sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Peering through people’s heads to get a small glimpse of him on stage was thrilling. His Liza Minnelli-inspired shirt sparkled through the room. Given that I already loved the song, getting to hear him perform every shifting melody with tenderness and grace made my heart flutter. As trivial of a moment as it ended up being, I am grateful to have heard him sing Judy Garland’s biggest number and knock it out of the park.
Even compared to his Netflix concert film, he’s come a long way. It takes skill to approach 30 and mature as a person. He was more focused and masterfully lead the audience from song to song. His ultimate goal was to say “This is me,” and I do genuinely believe that what he presented was himself. It gives me a greater context of his pop songs and their slow evolution from overeager young lover to a man now in a passionate relationship with one of the other Evan Hansens. All along the way people cheered. For those 90 minutes, everything was fine. It became clearer in his tribute to older artists that even in dark times there were those willing to make things better. As he’d suggest, somewhere over the rainbow everything would be fine. So long as these people existed, maybe it already was.
The only criticism, and it’s not unique to Platt, is that it was otherwise a costly night. Thanks to Lucky Seat, we had seats at a discounted price. For the show itself, I got everything that I would want out of it. It has been seven years since I first saw him on The Tony Awards singing “Waving Through a Window” and feeling that connection. While I don’t know that he’s quite gotten to the level of fame that he maybe wants, he can at least rest assured that he’s playing sold out shows for people who know every word to every song. Even if I hadn’t memorized anything, it didn’t stop an emotional experience.
For the rest of my life, I can be grateful to know that I have seen Ben Platt at least once. As I get ready to rewatch Theater Camp in a few weeks, I can smile at the thought of knowing what he’s like in person – or at least on stage. Not only did The Greek show endear him more, but Clark’s set maybe cracked the code on me appreciating Shucked.
I’m not entirely sure who is moving up the rankings as far as celebrities that I would love to be in the same room as. For now, I’ll just take a little longer to appreciate what has happened and let the memories take root. Whoever will come next will have to compete with someone who is much more versatile than he gets credit for. Even compared to people I admire like Andrew Rannells, he’s got the crossover appeal that is rare in Broadway. Once things click, I’m sure he’ll get somewhere good. If not, I’ll always have The Greek and a whole lot of fun jokes to keep me smiling.
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