Review: DEAR EVAN HANSEN Returns to Nashville, As Poignant And Powerful As Ever

As poignant and as moving - and certainly just as emotionally draining - as you may remember from its first run at Nashville's Tennessee Performing Arts Center in September 2019, Dear Evan Hansen has settled into TPAC's Andrew Jackson Hall for a limited engagement through Sunday, featuring a stellar performance from Stephen Anthony Christopher in the title role, given superb support from director Michael Greif's seven-person ensemble.

The Tony Award-winning musical is reflective of its times, sharply focused on society's fascination with popularity and "fitting-in" - timeless concerns that seem particularly current when set in the musical's high school milieu - and providing a searing indictment of our dependence on social media to obtain what can be considered news and determining what is relevant in our world today.

With a memorable score by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul (who might even be considered the modern-day Rodgers and Hammerstein, considering the popularity and accessibility of their work, including La La Land, The Greatest Showman, A Christmas Story the Musical, James and the Giant Peach and Dogfight), which so accurately and discerningly reflects this moment in time and the emotions of their characters, Dear Evan Hansen has solidified the duo's place in the annals of musical theater and drawn legions of new fans to it. "For Forever" and "Words Fail" still pack an emotional wallop, while the anthemic "You Will Be Found" provides a shattering climax to Act One that leads seamlessly into a more quietly powerful second act.

Steven Levenson's book focuses on the misadventures of Evan, the anti-hero 17-year-old high school senior whose emotional challenges and social awkwardness have somehow pre-determined his role in the dramatic convention of high school. As Evan struggles to fit in, he finds himself caught up in a prototypical maelstrom of social media mayhem largely of his own creation, due to his misguided notion (driven home by virtually everything and everyone he encounters in his young life) that in doing so, he is gaining the acceptance of his peers, thus achieving the kind of notoriety he has heretofore only dreamed about.

While the constant scrutiny from virtually everyone else in the world of contemporary social media seems the result of living outside the realm of possibility - and whatever that means - it results in Evan becoming less genuine and even more of a cipher than he is presented to be at the start of the show.

High school has long been a microcosm of our society as a whole and with everyone now tethered to their hand-held electronics, posting and preening on Tik Tok and Instagram (or Twitter and Facebook if you're old like me), the journey from freshman year to graduation is even more fractured and overwrought with outsized drama designed to foster envy, lust, greed and all the other seven deadly sins.

Evan becomes caught up in unbridled gossip and speculation when a classmate - Connor Murphy, the very definition of troubled teenager - commits suicide, leaving his parents to discover a letter to "Dear Evan Hansen" in his pocket, in which the writer (whom they assume was Connor) pours out his heretofore unspoken thoughts and aspirations. When confronted with the letter, Evan attempts to explain that it was written by him to himself as part of an assignment from his therapist to foster self-awareness and self-acceptance. Evan's attempts to explain himself fall on the deaf ears of Connor's mom and dad - Cynthia and Larry - because in their grief they find solace in the fact that their sullen and diffident son (whose name is written in huge letters across the cast of Evan's broken arm) at least had one friend in which to confide his most closely held thoughts. Evan, in a remarkable if misguided display of empathy toward the Murphys and their daughter Zoe (upon whom he has a massive crush anyway), sincerely thinks he is helping the family deal with their horrific loss and crippling grief.

Before long, news of Evan's "friendship" with the troubled Connor goes viral, with a video of his moving eulogy gaining even greater attention, all hell breaks loose and the ill-conceived and made-up relationship of the two boys grows ever larger with each passing day, taking on far greater significance. While at first blush, the whole situation seems farfetched and hard to believe, the story at the heart of Dear Evan Hansen resonates so deeply (both within the realm of the play's fictional setting and perhaps even more so among audience members riveted to what's happening onstage before them) that it is accepted wholeheartedly.

Dear Evan Hansen has become such a vibrant part of the pop culture zeitgeist that it's easy to gloss over the fact that is superb theater, and that its incisive consideration of contemporary social customs will continue to have far-reaching impact for years to come. The characters - Evan, Connor, Zoe and their parents and schoolmates Jared and Alana - seem very real, their personalities authentic and so relatable that it's easy to imagine them among your own circle of friends, family and "close acquaintances."

Stephen Christopher Anthony embodies the eponymous title character with equal parts awkward charm and startling theatrical talents, imbuing his interpretation of Evan with self-deprecation and a sense of humor that allows his audience complete accessibility to him. Anthony, who last appeared on the TPAC stage in the 2013 national tour of Catch Me If You Can in the role of Frank Abignale Jr., displays great versatility, providing an anti-hero with whom his audience can empathize with - and, perhaps, identify with - while expressing himself frankly (his performance of Evan's signature tunes is, by turns, heartbreaking, powerful and emotionally driven). Evan remains intense and rather self-centered, but thanks to Anthony's deft portrayal he is sweetly appealing.

Jessica E. Sherman is excellent as Heidi, Evan's hard-working, too often absent mother who loves her son fiercely but must confess that she has lost sight of who he truly is - her onstage chemistry with Anthony is palpable. Colleen Sexton and John Hemphill are wonderfully cast as the Murphys, each playing their character's grief with layered intensity.

Stephanie LaRochelle is terrific as Zoe Murphy, providing a strong scene partner for Anthony in their onstage interactions, while Alessandro Costanti and Haile Ferrier play Evan's schoolmates Jared and Alana with focus and believability. As the suicidal Connor Murphy, Nikhil Saboo is appropriately menacing, but somehow manages to display equal amounts of sensitivity.

David Korin's eye-popping scenic design and Peter Nigrini's projections provide the ideal visual environment for the onstage action, providing a virtual world inspired by social media and our seemingly total dependence on our electronic devices. Emily Rebholz's costume design helps to define the characters, as well as providing the context of time and place to their performances, while Japhy Weideman's lighting design artfully illuminates the world of Evan and his friends and family with equally impressive results.

Rather than call attention to his efforts, Danny Mefford's choreography seems organic to the play's action and Garret Healey's inspired musical direction ensures the score sounds sumptuous and rich and the singers' voices are heard to grand effect.

Dear Evan Hansen. Book by Steve Levensono. Music and lyrics by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul. Directed by Michael Greif. Choreography by Danny Mefford. Music supervision, orchestrations and additional arrangements by Alex Lacamoire. Presented by Broadway at TPAC. Through Sunday, March 6. For further details, go to www.TPAC.org or call (615) 782-4040 for tickets. Running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes (with one 15-minute intermission).

Photo Credit: Matthew Murphy

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