Dear Evan Hansen (2021)
Director: Stephen Chbosky
Screenwriters: Steven Levenson
Starring: Ben Platt, Julianne Moore, Amy Adams, Kaitlyn Dever, Amandla Stenberg
The film adaptation of Dear Evan Hansen arrived amid intense online controversy and sky-high expectations. The movie, based on the acclaimed Broadway musical, divides opinion: it showcases strong moments and performances but is hampered by questionable casting choices, uneven writing, and tonal inconsistencies. What the trailers hinted at—controversy, awkward casting, and a film that struggles to find its moral center—largely reflects the finished product.
At the heart of the debate is the story itself. Dear Evan Hansen follows a socially anxious, depressed high school student who becomes entangled in a deception after the suicide of a classmate, Connor Murphy. When Connor’s parents discover a note they believe to be a suicide letter, Evan finds himself trapped in a lie about their relationship. The premise raises difficult moral questions about grief, authenticity, and the consequences of fabricating intimacy in the wake of tragedy.
Ben Platt, who originated the role on Broadway, returns as Evan Hansen. His performance remains emotionally resonant—Platt brings vulnerability and a clear understanding of the character’s psychological pain. Yet his casting remains the film’s most distracting issue. Platt’s age and appearance are notably older than the high-school characters around him, producing a dissonance that few cinematic techniques attempt to hide. Makeup and styling do little to bridge that gap, and the age difference makes some plot elements—particularly romantic developments—feel uncomfortable and implausible.
That said, Platt’s acting largely justifies his presence: he conveys Evan’s internal turmoil convincingly and gives the role emotional depth. But the disconnect between performance and visual believability weakens the audience’s ability to fully empathize with Evan, and it complicates the film’s ethical tension. A younger actor might have eased that discomfort and made Evan’s moral failure and eventual growth feel more immediate and sympathetic.
Beyond casting, the screenplay is a mixed bag. It provides an affecting backstory for Evan, which elicits sympathy, but the character’s choices—deceit and manipulation—often undercut that empathy. The film struggles to balance the audience’s desire to root for Evan with the reality that his actions harm others. As a result, the emotional arc feels unstable: some scenes land with genuine impact, while others leave a sour aftertaste.
Supporting characters are unevenly developed. Jared, portrayed as a friend, is written as a jokey antagonist whose constant negativity becomes grating rather than insightful. Both mothers—Evan’s and Connor’s, played by Julianne Moore and Amy Adams—are underutilized, their enormous talents largely wasted on thinly sketched roles. Kaitlyn Dever, as Zoe Murphy, gives a sincere performance and invests the relationship with nuance, but the central romantic subplot never fully convinces because of the persistent age discrepancy between the two lead characters.
Musically, the film often falls short of the Broadway score’s emotional peaks. Several fans lament the excision of songs that deepened character motivations—cuts that leave certain roles feeling hollow. New material is added in places, but these additions rarely match the original soundtrack’s quality. Among the numbers, “Sincerely, Me” stands out as an energetic, cleverly staged piece, yet it highlights the film’s moral conflict: the tune’s buoyant tone juxtaposed against Evan’s manipulative actions produces an unsettling effect. What might appear entertaining on the surface is, in context, ethically troubling.
Another stylistic issue is the film’s pacing between dialogue and musical sequences. Extended stretches of dramatic, understated scenes make the musical moments feel sporadic and unexpected, which can jar the viewer emotionally. When songs do arrive, they sometimes feel disconnected from the dramatic build-up, diminishing their cathartic potential.
Still, Dear Evan Hansen is not without merit. Several songs carry powerful messages about mental health and isolation, and the film occasionally captures sincere emotional truth—particularly in depictions of the Murphy family’s grief and the quieter, introspective moments of Evan’s inner life. Ben Platt’s performance remains a standout, and the movie’s final act attempts to reconcile its moral complications, offering closure even if it doesn’t fully resolve the ethical questions it raises.
In summary, Dear Evan Hansen is a flawed but partially rewarding adaptation. It struggles with casting choices, inconsistent character development, and tonal missteps, yet contains strong acting and moments of genuine poignancy. For viewers familiar with the stage version, the film may disappoint in its handling of the material, while newcomers might find its themes thought-provoking albeit problematic. In a year that included several ambitious movie musicals, Dear Evan Hansen ranks among the more contentious entries—an imperfect film that still offers glimpses of why the original musical resonated with so many.
7/24