JADAR

★★★★☆

Whilst Dear Evan Hansen has received acclaim from critics and audiences alike, it had never appealed to me, but I gave it a chance because it’s one of those shows that musical fans just have to see. Furthermore, I had felt the same about Come From Away, which is now one of my all-time favourite musicals – so I’ve learned my lesson and will now give most things a try. As with Come From Away, I began Dear Evan Hansen excited for it to finish, but by the end, I was in floods of tears.

The musical is now on the road following a lauded West End production which, like its Broadway counterpart, was sadly killed off by both the pandemic and the negative reception of the film. This (non-replica) tour, however, is playing to packed houses, with its entire Manchester run sold out.

The title character is portrayed by Ryan Kopel, who gives probably one of the best male performances I have seen onstage. He is incredibly likeable as the socially anxious, probably autistic high school senior, “who invents an important role for himself in a tragedy that he did not earn.”

Spoilers below…

Evan writes letters to himself (“Dear Evan Hansen”) as part of his therapy. In one of his letters, he acknowledges his love for Zoe Murphy (played on press night by dance captain Lara Beth-Sas). The letter is found by her drug-addicted brother, Connor (played on press night by assistant dance captain Will Forgrave), who soon after commits suicide (it is never explained, or even explored, if the letter sent him over the edge).

The letter is found by his parents – Cynthia (Helen Anker) and Larry (Richard Hurst) – who believe that Connor wrote it to Evan, and thus that the two were best friends. Trapped in an awkward situation, Evan reluctantly goes along with it, falling deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole, realising that this gets him off the hook for writing a creepy letter, whilst comforting a grieving family who have nothing but the letter – and bringing him closer to the girl he loves. Evan blurs the lines between desperation and manipulation.

The musical also explores Evan’s complicated relationship with his single mother, Heidi (Alice Fearn), who is not around much because of her work and studies. Indeed, as well as mental illness, the musical explores class (“You’ve obviously never been rich,” Zoe tells Evan, who surprisingly snaps back, “You’ve obviously never been poor,” when the pair are complaining about their upbringings). However, the class differences are not clear until they are mentioned; they could have been better explored through set design or subtle differences in hair and clothing.

The book is inspired by a true story: a classmate of co-lyricist Benj Pasek died of a drug overdose; he was a bit of a loner, but when he died, everybody claimed to have been his friend. The creatives were also inspired by the phenomenon of public grieving after a celebrity death or tragic event, where people make it about themselves.

Indeed, Evan is not the only person who does this; the entire school, and thousands of people online, do the same, with Connor’s “close acquaintance” Alana Beck (Vivian Panka) embodying this phenomenon. But Steven Levenson makes his characters nuanced and multifaceted, so even Alana’s motives are morally dubious. Ostensibly, she seems to be doing it for her own self-gain, but we later learn that she is doing it because, like Connor, she knows what it is like to feel invisible – which still has an element of selfishness but is much more morally dubious and ethically understandable. And ultimately, Evan and Alana’s initiative (The Connor Project), though semi-self-serving, does good work.

The core cast is rounded off with Tom Dickerson as Jared Kleinman, Evan’s friend (“family friend!”). It’s excellent casting direction, and every single character offers a complex portrayal.

This is the first British production to feature an ensemble. The ensemble enhance a few numbers (particularly ‘You Will Be Found’, the social media scenes, and the school scenes – increasing the sense of isolation) but then they go quite awhile without appearing, and other times, they’re just there. Surprisingly, they’re not present during the one scene one would expect them to be there: the assembly. Evan is scared shitless giving a speech to loads of people but it’s just him on a bare stage with the Murphys sat nearby. The intention, presumably, is to turn us, the audience, into the assembly audience, creating a sense of voyeurism.

It’s not so much that the ensemble are underused but rather that they can feel a bit unnecessary. Previous productions have not had ensembles because they have not needed one. It sort-of feels like the creative team just wanted to make the most out of the actors they are paying to be covers. That said, it’s great that these talented actors get to perform night after night, rather than just sitting backstage in case they’re called on. The dance captains were excellent in their cover roles; it would be a shame for them to be wasted in standby capacity.

Benj Pasek and Justin Paul have created one of the most marvellous modern musical scores (‘Requiem’ had me in tears), though they do front-load their best songs, leaving the second act in need of some musical oomph – but it more than makes up for that in drama. Indeed, Steven Levenson’s book is rich, moving and heart-breaking.

I did not see the West End production so I cannot compare it. I have heard that this Evan is more sympathetic than previous iterations, which makes him more likeable, but softening him runs the risk of justifying his actions. This is more problematic given the ending, in which Evan evades accountability in the way only a straight White man could.

Director Adam Penford mostly makes wonderful use of the stage. However, on several occasions, it is unclear if the characters are supposed to be in the same room as each other, but that could be the point: social media often stands in for real life.

Carrie-Anne Ingrouille provides some great choreography that is movement-based as opposed to dancing. Matt Dew’s lighting enhances the atmosphere and seems to represent Evan’s state of mind as it flicks neatly between warm and cold.

Morgan Large’s designs (he is the set, costume and co-video designer with Ravi Deepres) are fresh and slick, with the production utilising both set and screens. But whilst a lot of new productions overly rely on screens as a cost-cutting measure, Large and Deepres use them effectively, creatively and thematically (e.g. social media, with the screens used to represent digital hysteria).

Much of the kaleidoscopic set doubles as screens, with digital designs plastered on sliding doors and mirrored panels (that ironically nobody stops to look at themselves in), which themselves evoke a glasshouse, subtly referencing the iconic idiom. It is certainly one of the best uses of screens I have seen onstage.

The set, however, sometimes feel a little sparse, such as the school scenes, where there are just a few red lockers onstage, which does not capture the overwhelming, suffocating nature of school, especially for awkward loners like Evan and Connor.

Also, the absence of Evan’s iconic blue polo is disappointing. Apparently, doing away with the polo allows the new actor to portray the character in their own way without being confined to the original look, but it’s literally just a piece of material; it’s the direction and performance that allow for that – and this Evan is, certainly, different. It seems that the creatives just wanted to do their own thing – yet, ironically, the stage design looks quite similar to that of the previous production (and the polo is on the tour poster anyway!). In my opinion, they should have kept the polo – give the fans what they want!

Dear Evan Hansen is probably one of the best shows that I have seen, with only a few small issues that your average theatregoer is not going to dwell on (except maybe the potentially problematic ending, what with the lack of accountability). It is wonderfully written, cleverly designed, and masterfully performed. It is, hands down, one of the best musicals of the 21st century.

Dear Evan Hansen runs at Palace Theatre Manchester until September 22 and tours the UK until July 5.

Photo: Marc Brenner