Making a clumsy leap from the Broadway stage to the movie screen, the musical “Dear Evan Hansen” is the story of a liar, successful fabulist who uses the self-harm of a troubled classmate to gain popularity. Still the movie (I think Tony Award-winning predecessor, which I haven’t seen) wants us to not only sympathize with this character, but ultimately forgive him. This is a huge question.
Ben Platt, who is about to turn 28 and reprises his stage role as Evan, just isn’t as believable as a high school senior. John Travolta was in “Grease.” Paralyzing social anxiety, Evan is a sweaty scumbag, his bulging eyes and curvy body language repel other students as he sings lustfully about feeling invisible. (The songs are mostly by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul.) An outcast friend, the erratic Connor Murphy (Colton Ryan), ends his own life while he has one of Evan’s therapeutic, self-addressed letters, Connor’s devastated mother and stepfather. gives. (Amy Adams and Danny Pino) are convinced that Evan is Connor’s best friend.
Rather than correct this simple misunderstanding, Evan begins to take advantage of it, even going as far as enrolling an acquaintance (a sarcastic Nik Dodani) to help with an email exchange between him and Connor. Welcome to the luxurious Murphy home, where Connor gets even closer to his sister, Zoe (Kaitlyn Dever), whom he has a crush on. Students search for him at school, and Connor’s speech at the memorial goes viral. With each ornament, interest and social media likes increase; We see the brutality of Evan’s deception only in the trusting eyes of Connor’s mother.
Written by Steven Levenson and clumsily directed by Stephen Chbosky. (no stranger to teen dramas)“Dear Evan Hansen” is a disturbing work that builds a convoluted, superficial, and at times comical plot around adolescent mental health issues. Dialogue interspersed with chirpy lyrics is stereotypical; nevertheless, the story sheds useful light on the treacherous turns of the internet and the way social media has used tragedy. In one scene, students pose for a selfie in Connor’s flower-adorned locker, easily forgetting that it was someone they disliked and ostracized before.
With its extended runtime and emotionally compelling nature (there will no doubt be those who cry), there are a few bright spots in this bizarre movie, including a brilliant Julianne Moore as Evan’s overworked single mom. Moore may disappear for most of the movie, but his one song is so heartfelt that it highlights the emotional artifact that surrounds it. Also notable is Amandla Stenberg, who plays the entrenched school activist and moral conscience who brings an unforced longing to a song about anonymity she helped write. But the film’s most squandered opportunity lies in its nuanced portrayal of Zoe, which highlights the difficulty of being the sibling of a troubled child, exhausted by Dever’s family’s obsessive attention to Connor’s needs. When she admits she’s afraid of Connor, she is pushed aside as she too is tricked by Evan’s fairytale portrait of a loving brother.
Treacly and manipulative, “Dear Evan Hansen” turns the villain into the victim and grief into an exploitable vulnerability. It made me cry.
Dear Evan Hansen
Rated PG-13 for problematic themes and embarrassing behavior. Working time: 2 hours 17 minutes. In movie theaters.