Holy dooly, are you trying to scare the bajeezus out of parents everywhere? If so, you’ve thoroughly succeeded. Right from your opening number, Anybody Have a Map? you’ve left us all slightly shell shocked. Is this what we have to look forward to? The summary of your plot line doesn’t sound like a great fit for a musical, let’s be honest – socially anxious loner teen, Evan Hansen, is mistaken for the only friend of moody and aggressive misfit, Connor Murphy, who has just taken his life. Evan leans into this mistaken identify in order to cheer up Connor’s grieving family. I mean really, it’s amazing you made it past the initial pitch.
And yet here you are, nearly ten years later, with numerous awards, including a Tony Award for Best Musical, and songs of hope that are played over again, beloved by the current generation. We’ll give it to you, you’re unique. You tap into everyone’s base desire for connection, and you’ve assembled a remarkable cast to tell the story.
It’s fair to say that at times you feel more like a play than a musical. There’s a lot of acting and a lot of dialogue. Even most of your musical numbers are more like conversations, come to think of it. So it’s a good thing then, that the acting is truly phenomenal. Natalie O’Donnell, Martin Crewes, and Georgia Laga’aia, as Connor’s mother, father, and sister respectively, make us feel like voyeurs in the intimate experience that is dealing with grief. We feel like we’re right there in the Murphy’s living room, or sitting with them around the dinner table.
Beau Woodbridge conveys Evan’s awkwardness with sincerity, especially through all the Sondheim-esque vocals that accentuate this awkwardness (think short, clipped notes that are slightly off-beat). Despite this, he manages to shine bright – particularly during showstopping numbers Waving Through a Window and You Will Be Found. Harry Targett is also perfectly cast as Connor, and his ironic jauntiness during Sincerely, Me is so very weird and so completely hilarious.
Jacob Rozario, as Jared Kleinman, Evan’s only real(ish) friend, does a good job of carrying the rest of the comedic weight, and makes sure we don’t collectively descend too far into a pit of misery. Speaking of misery, however, there is one particular moment where the audience can be heard spontaneously reaching for a tissue – and for a musical centred on the aftermath of teen suicide, it’s a moment that surprisingly has nothing to do with that. It’s a line about a little boy and a truck, sung tenderly by Verity Hunt-Ballard, as Evan’s mother. You know the one we’re talking about.
Yes, you cover all manner of heart rendering themes. You also have more to say about modern life than most musicals, particularly the role of social media in amplifying everyone’s feelings, for better or worse. Your representation of the social media wildfires that break out after Connor’s death could absolutely not have been done better, in both song, sound and visuals.
What happens when a lie grows arms and legs, and gets completely out of control? Or – a more morally complicated question – what happens when a lie is actually exactly what’s needed? Not just to the person telling it, that is, but to a grieving family, a student body, and an entire global internet community? The truth about Connor Murphy is hardly relevant by this point. You have us on the edge of our seats as we watch the unfurling of the lie play out, and while we wait to see whether everyone, including Evan Hansen, gets to sing their requiem in the end.
Dear Evan Hansen, you may not be one of those fun and flashy musicals, with a chorus line and sequins, but by golly, you’re likely to stay with us a fair while longer.
With love,
Showing at the Roslyn Packer Theatre until 1 December 2024. Produced by Sydney Theatre Co and Michael Cassel Group. Photos by Daniel Boud.
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