‘Dear Evan Hansen’ Review: A Tone-Deaf and Exploitative Misfire
“Words Fail”…to describe this movie.
Ben Platt in DEAR EVAN HANSEN.
“Have you ever felt like nobody was there?” sings the film’s lead character as he fights the pangs of loneliness and unacceptance he feels as an awkward, quirky teenager. Well, apparently nobody was there when they were making this film, either, because it’s one of the worst musical adaptations to come to screen since 2019’s atrocity, CATS.
While the immense Broadway success of DEAR EVAN HANSEN, (the show of the same name from which this film is adapted) may deceive viewers, look past the emotional ballads and the ‘relatable’ high school blues and you’ll find that the show is actually incredibly tone deaf and wildly misguided. Evan (Ben Platt, who originated the role on stage), is an anxious-ridden high schooler bumbles around day-to-day feeling lost and alone with virtually no friends. He’s shy, weird, tries to tell jokes that rarely land, and stares longingly at the girl that he’s in love with. Evan has mysteriously broken his arm, claiming he fell out of a tree, and struggles with getting even so much as his family friend, Jared, to sign his cast. He also encounters people like Connor (Colton Ryan), a fellow outlier student, who often acts out, even aggressively pushing Evan down in the middle of the school hallway.
Colton Ryan and Ben Platt in DEAR EVAN HANSEN.
Evan sees a therapist who assigns him a task to write himself a letter everyday with an optimistic view of good things to expect (hence the show’s title). Evan writes himself this letter in the school library and sends it to the printer. Evan runs into Connor, who, seemingly changing his tone, offers to be the first (and only) one to sign his cast. Evan is taken aback and pleased by this offer, but this exchange quickly changes when Connor grabs the letter from the printer and immediately becomes disgruntled because Evan made name-mention of the girl that he’s in love with, Zoe (Kaitlyn Dever), who happens to be Connor’s little sister. Connor angrily walks off with his letter, and Evan goes home to frantically scours the internet trying to see if Connor embarrassingly posted the letter online. He finds nothing, and a couple of days later, Evan is called into the principal’s office to be met with Connor’s parents. They inform him that tragically, Connor has taken his own life, and they found the letter addressed to Evan mixed in with his belongings. Overwhelmed in their mourning, Connor’s parents immediately assume that this is a personal letter written to Evan from Connor and assumes that they must have been friends. This delights his parents as they thought that Connor didn’t have any friends, and Evan briefly begins stuttering in an effort to tell them that they’re wrong before completely giving up and lying to them saying that they were, indeed, close friends. Thus launches the main plot of the movie, wherein Evan exploits a young man’s suicide to propel himself to popularity under the guise of heroism and good charity. Soon, Evan becomes very close to Connor’s family, spending frequent time with his parents, eventually dating Zoe, and even helping to co-found a club at school in Connor’s memory to raise suicide awareness.
One of the many problems with both the original Broadway version and the film adaptation is that Evan is just an inherently unlikeable character. The audience is pressured to feel sympathy for him as a young kid struggling with mental health disorders, yet they are also expected to be understanding and sympathetic to his intentions. This is almost impossible when Evan spends the rest of the story lying to every single person he knows; gaslighting them, being rude or aggressive and suddenly dismissive to the small group of people who have stood by him. He also practically steals the identity of a young man in a desperate and outright embarrassing attempt to create self-worth. At no point does Evan appear to have any genuine remorse for the long-term, ripple effect pain that he is causing, and he becomes so deeply consumed in his own false narrative that even he seems to forget that he’s lying.
Amy Adams and Danny Pino in DEAR EVAN HANSEN.
There is a cringe-inducing moment in the movie where Evan suddenly feels that he doesn’t need to take his anxiety medication anymore, because now that he’s popular, has a girlfriend, and has the validation of his peers, all of his issues are suddenly and apparently cured. As if people with any kind of anxiety disorder wouldn’t likely have their anxiety heightened if launched into sudden and unexpected mass popularity. For a show whose plot is directly and explicitly centered around mental health, never has a film gone so far out of its way to exploit the very theme it’s trying to send a message on and ultimately deliver a final product that is the raging opposite of what it alleged to convey.
Yet another problem with this film is that some Broadway shows are just simply not meant to be adapted to screen. At times, and such is the case here, the story and its emotional beats are best served on a stage where the audience has a constant and full view of the world being presented to them. Take, for instance, a critical scene in the second half of the movie where Evan finally confesses the truth to Connor’s family during the “Words Fail” number. On stage, this is an extremely climactic and emotional moment as the audience can watch both the transformation of Evan as he sings these words of truth, as well as the family’s transformation as their world unravels for a second time with each line. In the film, the camera follows Evan as he awkwardly paces around their dining room table so as to create distance as he gets ready to make his confession. The song—which itself is not terrible—builds to its crescendo and as it holds on Evan for just a beat, it immediately cuts to a terribly staged tableau of the family arranged on the other side of the table, mouths agape in shock, staring blankly back at Evan. The moment is so awkward and visually jarring that it almost plays out like a Saturday Night Live skit and completely and instantly eliminates any possibility of reclaiming the audience’s trust and support. This unfortunate pattern repeats throughout the majority of the film, with each musical number feeling deeply forced, out of place, and distracting from the story they’re trying to tell rather than enhancing it.
Another factor that just simply cannot be ignored is the casting of the film. Lead actor Ben Platt, though undeniably talented, looks almost like a caricature of a high schooler in a laughably bad wig. Platt originated the role on Broadway and won the prestigious Tony award for it, which is why he was cast in the film adaptation. While that decision seems warranted and was mostly supported by fans, the problem is that Platt originated the role back in 2015 and the now-27-year-old actor has just simply outgrown it. It’s hardly any different to any other film starring high schoolers but played by older actors—GREASE, THE BREAKFAST CLUB, or HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL—but somehow it is so deeply distracting here that it overshadows the genuine talent and valid efforts from Platt. It is worth noting, too, that the casting of both the Broadway show and subsequently the film, suffers from a common issue in Hollywood: nepotism. Platt is the son of famous stage, film, and television producer Marc Platt, who is the name behind such projects as LA LA LAND, WICKED, and LEGALLY BLONDE. Marc holds a lot of power both on Broadway and in Hollywood, and though Ben is talented on his own, the reason he reprised his role here and the reason it wasn’t given to an equally talented, age-appropriate actor is likely at least partially attributed to his dad. Case in point: the film releases in the U.S. on Ben Platt’s birthday.
Ben Platt in DEAR EVAN HANSEN.
The worst part of this story, however, has to be that there are absolutely zero consequences to any of the actions that occur. When Evan finally confesses, everyone feigns shock (with the exception of a few supporting characters who knew well enough to be suspicious) and he is briefly ostracized by the community. Evan once again shows very little genuine remorse for what he did, and instead tries to victimize himself and plead for mercy by defending the reasons behind what he did. When this mostly fails and he feels himself slipping back into obscurity, he finally issues a proper apology and begins to haphazardly make amends. With what feels like only a fraction of time passing, nearly every single person in the film eventually comes back around and decides to give him a second chance, metaphorically giving him the ol’ slap on the wrist and an understanding smile. Here, the audience is expected to think that they have seen a full and visceral character arc from Evan and that he is the poster child of personal growth and understanding. Instead, it is just a series of horrible events from a horrible character with virtually no payoff. Evan is undeniably a villain in this film and is equivalent to a criminal who never has to pay for his crimes. This, in turn, disrespects the audience and treats them as if they are not intelligent enough to realize what actually just played out in front of them. Not unlike Evan himself, this film is really just one giant attempt to do whatever it takes to be likeable, regardless of who may suffer for it.