Dear Evan Hansen

A few months ago, my middle daughter asked me to read a book of hers. It was a young adult novel called Dear Evan Hansen – and up until that point in time, it wasn’t on my radar. But the fact that my kid read it and it meant so much to her that she wanted me to read it too was enough for me.

And so I read it.

Here’s what it’s about. A teenaged boy (Evan Hansen) who suffers from anxiety and is a bit of a wallflower at school is tasked by his therapist to write himself a letter every day. It should begin “Dear Evan Hansen. Today is going to be a great day and here’s why.” And end quite simply “Sincerely, me”.

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The letter is a sort of pep talk to himself; to remind himself of all the good in his life – even when he’s not sure there is any good. It’s a way to change his perspective. On this particular day, he writes the requisite letter but it’s not nearly as positive as his therapist would hope. In fact, it’s quite dismal and raw.

He prints it in his school’s computer lab and somehow or other another student (Connor Murphy) ends up with it. Connor is a troubled, angry, confused, pot-smoking bully and he’s puzzled by this letter. Despite Evan’s feeble attempts to explain that it’s a therapeutic assignment, Connor takes the letter and leaves.

At first Evan is mortified that the extremely personal contents of this letter will be used against him – to mock him, to belittle him. But these particular worries are for naught – as Connor takes his own life. And his parents, finding the letter in his pocket, mistakenly believe it to be his last known correspondence – written by Connor to Evan. They mistakenly believe that Connor was pouring his heart and soul out to this mysterious friend his parents never knew existed – Evan Hansen. 

They mistakenly believe this letter to be their son’s suicide note.

And you’ll have to read the book or take in the play to find out what happens next.

Every once in a while, a young adult novel comes along like a smack in the face and changes things up for me. Back in the day, books like The Outsiders and Where The Red Fern Grows or anything by Judy Blume. More recently the young adult novel Wonder.

And then Dear Evan Hansen.

I burned through it quickly – one of those reads where I would reluctantly have to close it up for the night or risk reading non-stop til dawn.

One of those reads where I pore over the last page slowly, hoping there will be more but knowing there is not. Closing the cover thinking I’ll never read another book this good again.

Imagine my surprise at discovering this literary masterpiece was based upon a hit play. A hit play from 2015, with the book debuting three years later. Why didn’t I know any of this?

Oh yeah – because I don’t like hit shows. I may tolerate them from time to time when it seems to be the thing to do. When they were all the rage, I paid hard-earned money and sat through live performances of The Lion King, Mamma Mia! and The Producers. And in each of these instances, I was the minority wet-blanket in an otherwise enthusiastic audience. 

I’m a movie-lover through and through. But when it comes to live performances, particularly musically-inclined live performances, I’m not a fan. Not that either camp is mutually exclusive – it’s just the way I happen to be hard-wired. I find the exaggerated mannerisms heavy-handed and the often raucous emoting to be nothing short of cringey (to borrow a term from my brood).

Perhaps now, you’ll understand my nanosecond of hesitation in buying tickets for the hit show Dear Evan Hansen. But after passing through that brief faltering blip, I managed to snag nosebleed seats on a weeknight for a manageable amount of money. And six weeks later, my two daughters and I were off to the Big Smoke to take in the show.

Upon arrival at the theatre, I catch sight of the poster:

DEAR
EVAN
HANSEN
The Tony Award-Winning
BEST MUSICAL

Wait . . . What? I was about to step foot into a musical show . . . on my very own accord?

How was this going to work? Dear Evan Hansen is about bullying and suicide; it’s about relationships between friends and parents and how complicated and messy they can be; it’s about the internet as both a godsend and a backfiring demon; it’s about the disparity between our real selves and our public personas; how we choose to portray ourselves compared to how others see us . . . how we see ourselves.

How the hell is this going to work as a musical?

And then Dear Evan Hansen.

This show did for me what no other live stage performance ever has before. It’s what many movies have done for me over the years – but never a play. Never a musical. It transfixed me. It enraptured me. It spoke to me. And from the look and sound of it, it spoke to the audience around me as well. For once, I was in the enthusiastic majority of a theatre crowd.

In fact, the very elements I have always claimed to have loathed in musicals are some of what I enjoyed most in the performance of Dear Evan Hansen. Namely the singing and the acting.

The songs were hilarious at the right moment and heart breaking at the right moment. The accompanying music to the scenes was so utterly moving that I was mesmerized.

The scene choreography was beautifully orchestrated and executed – in fact, it highlighted several key components in the story that I had somehow not noticed when reading the book – or at least had not focused on: how the two main characters – Evan and Connor share so much in common with one another despite being seeming polar opposites in every way. The same goes for their two mothers – both women trying desperately to figure out how to connect with their respective sons; both on the cusp of losing their sons. In the end, only one will get a second chance.

This play portrayed a heartbreakingly believable and relatable snippet of teen life – with all of its online bombardment and noise; with all of its complications and mishaps.

Before the lights dimmed to signal the end of intermission, I took a look at the assembled crowd filling the seats: people of all ages, of all ethnicities, of all religions, of all sexual orientations – in a theatre together to watch this show about a teenager named Evan Hansen. All connected by this fictional character; all hopefully feeling connected to this every-teen.

The presence of senior citizens, 50-somethings, 40-somethings, millennials, same sex partners, moms, dads, trios of men, of women, of teens spoke the following words to teenagers and parents of teenagers the world over: “We hear you. We see you. You’re not alone. You’re not insignificant.

“Today will be a great day . . . and this is why.“

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