Dear Evan Hansen, by Steven Levenson, opens as a standard American teen-angst musical. Evan is a sweaty geek with a crush on Zoe Murphy whose rebellious brother, Connor, is so disturbed that he styles his hair to suggest ‘school-shooter chic’. Evan tries to befriend Connor but gets shoved to the ground. Then, a bombshell. Connor kills himself. By an amazing but credible coincidence Connor’s parents start to believe that Evan was good pals with their deceased son. And Evan exaggerates the depth of the friendship in order to help the family, and especially the mother, cope with their grief. He even fabricates an exchange of emails in which Connor appears to speak warmly about his parents and to express hopes for the future. Evan’s ulterior motive is to get closer to Zoe.
The plan works. He becomes a regular at the Murphys’ dinner table. Meanwhile a cult of Connor springs up at school. Evan’s lies spread goodness in all directions. A misfit teenage girl makes herself popular by running the Connor fan club. Another boy cashes in by flogging commemorative bracelets and keepsakes. Evan himself overcomes a stammer and delivers a dazzling eulogy to Connor in front of the entire school. The script at this point is a marvellous synthesis of parable, satire and romantic comedy.
The songs are hummable and the lyrics are smart and witty. But a dreadful shadow hangs over the tale. Evan is a fraud. By the end of Act One his transformation from bullied nonentity to rising star is complete. The Connors treat him like a family favourite and he roams the playground arm in arm with the adorable Zoe. The pair look set to become the coolest couple in town. But how can Evan extricate himself from the cruel and monstrous lies he has created? The answer, when it comes, is so moving and unexpected that even the most hardened cynic is likely to sigh with forgiveness and understanding.
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