Arden Theatre Company presents Dear Evan Hansen

Sure, by the time Platt starred in the ill-fated 2021 film adaptation of the musical by Benj Pasek, Justin Paul, and Steven Levenson, he was too old to convincingly play a high schooler. And yes, he sported an unfortunate wig that made him a dead ringer for Barbra Streisand in The Main Event. But for all his quirks and vocal mannerisms, he brought a singular energy to the role that catapulted him to fame, which in turn burnished the material on its journey to become a record-breaking, moneymaking sensation.

Without that locus, the musical feels hollow at best and morally reprehensible at worst. The Arden's production splits the difference: it takes no stance, flattening Evan’s questionable actions into a tedious, prosaic journey to nowhere.

In search of some realism

Terrence J. Nolen seemingly has no vision for the production he directed and co-conceived with Jorge Cousineau, who designed the sets and projections. Whereas the iconic original Broadway staging captured the cacophony of social media and the adverse effects of losing yourself in curated fantasy worlds, this production exists somewhat literally inside a void: the play area consists of a narrowly rectangular white room, which functions as home, high school, green space, and Internet abyss.

Are we meant to be inside the mind of Evan Hansen (Evan A. Kaushesh), the caustic young man who begins his senior year as an outcast and ends it an unlikely, and unworthy, hero? Does the stage represent an asylum? What it doesn’t do is provide a crumb of realism to counteract the relentless technological onslaught that Evan loses himself within. Unfortunately, that’s something the musical needs.

A handful of tables and chairs constitute Evan’s entire world: the lower middle-class existence he shares with his hardworking mother, Heidi (Krissy Fraelich), and the tonier home of the Murphy family, into which he finds himself absorbed after falsely claiming a friendship with their son Connor (Julian Perez), who dies by suicide. That seductive contrast is necessary to understand why Evan entangles himself deeper into a web of lies to keep his ruse going, but here, everything seems to exist on the same plane. Levonne Lindsay’s stylish costumes also fail to provide much distinction between the characters and their varying socioeconomic status.

It’s understandable that Cousineau wouldn’t want to give the impression of copying the memorable projection design of the creator production, but he overcorrects a tad too much. His social-media world looks too primitive, with the stage awash in images that resemble Windows 97 screensavers. Much of the work of crafting a digital landscape falls to sound designer Elizabeth Atkinson, with disembodied voices forming the virtual community that lifts up Evan before turning on him.

A lack of distinction

More than anything, though, this musical needs a distinctive performance at its center, and it doesn’t have that here. Despite the uplifting narrative that attached itself to this show in its early moment of success, it presents a classic anti-hero: someone who manipulates vulnerable people for his own gain. Evan should project an aura that’s both inviting and troubling, that makes the viewer feel smarmy even as they relate to some of Evan’s motivations. Instead, Kaushesh proves affable but indistinct, and some of the higher passages in the score test his vocal limits. He presents not so much a journey but a continuation: an awkward kid who was, and is, fundamentally likable, despite making a few questionable choices.

Fraelich possesses one of Philadelphia’s best musical theater voices, but her performance as Heidi seems neither infused with a bone-deep love for her son or an anger at what she feels are his betrayals. Hailey Lara’s affect as Zoe Murphy, Connor’s sister and Evan’s eventual girlfriend, rarely moves beyond the stereotypical sullen teen. Perez brings a welcome complexity to Connor’s brief scenes—here, you actually believe his mother, Cynthia (Mary Fishburne), when she describes him as a complicated person—and Asia DeShields finds depth in Alana Beck, a terminally overachieving classmate who also distorts Connor’s memory for her own purposes.

Watching from a distance

But the musical, and its motives, are too often obscured. In the show’s best-known song, Evan describes himself as “waving through a window,” experiencing life at a remove from those around him. Nolen’s production for the Arden forces the audience to watch Evan’s journey through a window, at a remove: to neither connect with it or feel repulsed by it. “Is anybody waving back at me?” Evan asks. Does anybody care?

Know before you go: Dear Evan Hansen depicts themes of suicide and self-harm that might be uncomfortable to some viewers.

Thanks for reading BSR! If you value this review, be sure to subscribe to our free newsletter and don’t miss the next one. There’s never a paywall at BSR, and you can join the donors who keep our journalism accessible.