Review: DEAR EVAN HANSEN at Zach Theater
Waiving through a window until May 31, 2026.
The first time Dear Evan Hansen stepped onto a Broadway stage in 2016, it didn’t chase spectacle. It held up a mirror and refused to blink. It pushed past what was considered comfortable for teenage audiences and told a story about mental illness, suicide, and the aftermath of a tragedy that hit a nerve just as social media began tightening its grip on the psyche of young people. The subject wasn’t entirely new. Years earlier, Next to Normal had cracked the door open. But while Next to Normal unfolded inside a woman’s mind, Dear Evan Hansen placed everything out in the open, raw and unavoidable.
With music by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul and a book by Steven Levenson, the story is deceptively simple. Evan, a high school senior crippled by social anxiety, writes letters to himself as part of therapy. When one of those letters is found by Connor Murphy, a troubled classmate who dies by suicide shortly after, it is mistaken for his final note. Connor’s parents believe Evan was their son’s only friend. Faced with a chance to finally belong, Evan doesn’t correct them. What begins as a misunderstanding grows into a carefully constructed lie that pulls him into the Murphy family, especially Zoe, and gives him the connection he has always longed for. But the truth has weight, and when it surfaces, it leaves its mark.
Under the direction of David Steakley, ZACH Theater’s production leans into that reality without flinching. It captures the emotional volatility of a generation growing up online, hyper-connected and yet profoundly alone, where anxiety and depression are amplified by constant visibility, and where the need to be seen can become overwhelming.
The set design by Milo Bue is gorgeous in its restraint, clean and spare, echoing the Broadway aesthetic without imitation. The final moment in the orchard lingers, quiet and grounding, offering a sense of stillness that feels earned. There is nowhere to hide in this world. Light, space, and movement carry the storytelling, and the technical execution is seamless. Transitions glide with precision. Sound and lighting move like thought, fast, intrusive, impossible to control, creating a landscape where connection is constant and loneliness somehow louder than ever.
And then the music does what it has always done. "Does Anybody Have a Map?" lands like a confession. As a mother of young adult daughters, it cuts deep, exposing that quiet panic of not knowing if you’re getting it right. "Waving Through a Window" carries that restless ache of wanting to be seen without knowing how. "You Will Be Found" remains a gut punch, a fragile reaching that earns every tear.
I’d seen this show before on Broadway. At the time, I admired the score more than I truly connected with the story. It lingered in me musically, but it didn’t quite land emotionally.
This time, it did.
Something shifted, and I keep trying to understand it without finding a single answer. Maybe it’s that I now know young adults navigating mental illness in real time, not as ideas but as lived experience. Or maybe it’s Steakley’s brave casting choice for Connor, which re-frames the story in a way that suddenly makes more sense. The original production alluded to an LGBTQ connection, but it was never clearly named or explored. In a moment in this country, and especially in Texas, where nonbinary identities and LGBTQ people are still questioned, ignored, or actively erased, that choice carries a different kind of emotional gravity.
Whatever the reason, it hit deeper this time. In a world that has only grown louder and more exposed since I first saw it, where hyper-connectivity sits beside deepening isolation, the story arrives with a sharper, more unsettling truth.
The cast is cohesive and strong. Evan Jennings leads with quiet command, carrying vulnerability in every detail, the hunch of his shoulders, the nervous fidgeting of his hands, the fragile tone of his voice. When the music demands it, he rises to those big vocal moments with power and control, never losing the emotional truth underneath. Eugenia De La Garza gives Zoe strength and sensitivity, her performance grounded and deeply felt, and she truly shines in "Requiem," holding our hearts in her hands. Dominic Pecikonis is absolutely captivating as Connor, a perfect casting choice. Their presence lingers long after they leave the stage, ghost-like, intruding, provoking, refusing to be forgotten. And JP Lopez is a revelation as Jared, sharp, funny, completely at ease. Having only seen him in dramatic roles, it is a genuine treat to watch him lean into his comedic instincts and land every beat with precision.
PC: AxelB Photography
Leslie McDonel shines as Heidi Hansen, Tracy Jai Sweeney lands every ache as Cynthia Murphy, Rudy Martinez brings a quiet parental vulnerability to Larry Murphy, and Flynn Jungbin Byun is irresistibly, annoyingly adorable as Alana Beck.
I cried. I laughed. I left the theater full of emotion and thought, aware of how differently this story lands now than it did eight years ago. This is not an easy piece. It doesn’t offer clean answers. It sits in discomfort and tells the truth anyway.
Congratulations to Steakley and the entire cast and crew for delivering a production of undeniable quality.
Age Recommendation: Ages 12 and up
Run time: 2 hours and 30 minutes, including one intermission
PC: AxelB Photography
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