Dear Evan Hansen is based on the hit Broadway musical of the same name, which won six Tony Awards, including Best Musical. Alas, the film does not ascend to the same heights as the stage production.
As harsh as it might seem, idiot plot is a handy descriptor for Dear Evan Hansen. Essentially, idiot plots are ones where the characters fail to act intelligently—the kind where one small mix-up spirals out of control, seemingly beyond repair, when in actuality the resolution is obvious. In that regard, this is a classic idiot film.
Evan Hansen, played by Ben Platt, who nabbed a Tony for his stage portrayal, is a loner in high school. He suffers from anxiety, is awkward socially, and craves popularity. Connor Murphy (Colton Ryan), a fellow student and borderline misanthrope, bullies Evan at school, and one day takes a letter that Evan has written to himself as an exercise from his therapist. When Connor kills himself later that day, the letter that begins “Dear Evan Hansen” is found on his body. High jinks ensue.
As the misinformation spirals, it’s not played as a quirky mix-up or hilarious folly. Instead, the lies that Evan tells to the school administrators and to his and Connor’s family are shaped as kind, not selfish or harmful. Connor’s family makes Evan one of their own. Evan’s actions aren’t meant to be malicious, but on screen he comes across as callous and self-indulgent.
The film also fails to successfully integrate the play’s musical numbers. Many of the songs are performed well, but the way they are incorporated into the earnest film feels forced. When we first see Evan, he is moving through his high school hallway, staring at his shoes, and avoiding eye contact. He begins the introductory number as he is walking by lockers and fellow students, and it feels plopped into this world without addressing the tension between a real school setting and the unrealistic behavior of a student belting out a song without getting a single glance from fellow students.
Despite the production’s weaknesses in writing and direction, the actors are not part of the problem. As many online commenters have pointed out, Platt is far from high-school aged, but he’s still capable of stepping into Evan’s skin. Amy Adams, Julianne Moore, and Kaitlyn Dever add gravitas to their mostly simplistic characters, and are all capable singers.
Perhaps the greatest offense in Dear Evan Hansen is the film’s glib attitude toward mental health. It deserves minor kudos for addressing how common struggles with mental health are among teens, but that’s where the concern and nuance end. The profound struggles that led to Connor’s suicide are not discussed, and while a larger social safety net certainly benefits Evan, the notion that he could have been healed with a little more love is both inaccurate and offensive. The film never indicates that teen suicide and mental health are complicated matters that cannot be easily solved by getting more attention or more friends.
Fans of the Broadway show may have enough affection for the theatrical experience to buoy them while watching Dear Evan Hansen, but new audiences watching the film will be met with a confounding and unsuccessful adaptation.
Dear Evan Hansen
PG-13, 137 minutes
Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, Regal Stonefield 14 and IMAX, Violet Crown Cinema