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Dear Evan Hansen The Alexandra Theatre ***** Evan Hansen is one of that rare band of shows that reminds you what a wonderful and magical place theatre can be, it is simply, must see, brilliant acting, storytelling and stagecraft, It relies entirely on its eponymous character Evan who could come over as a weirdo, or worse, a complete nutter which would lose the whole point of the plot, but Scottish actor Ryan Kopal turns in a stellar performance to make him not only believable but able to garner our compassion and sympathy- and add a bit of fun. Evan, 17, suffers from severe social anxiety, let’s just call it extremely nervous and anxious shyness bordering on fear of meeting and talking to people. His problem is that he just doesn’t fit in – anywhere, always the outsider. He has no friends nor any enemies because . . . well, he’s invisible, he is just a nobody. His mother Heidi is a single mum, leaving him to his own devices by necessity rather than design, working as a nurse all day then school each night training to be a paralegal to improve their lot after her husband, Evan’s father, walked out when he was seven. It is a wonderful performance from West End star Alice Fearn, who must strike a chord with every single parent trying to bring up a child alone making ends and emotions meet as life balance becomes an uneven struggle. It is a situation which gives her the showstopper song, the sad, bittersweet song of divorce and being left to bring up a child alone, So Big/So Small, sung beautifully, what a voice she has.
Alice Fearn as Heidi Hansen Heidi knows Evan has problems she can’t solve so engages a therapist who wants Evan to write a letter to himself each day . . . Dear Evan Hansen, Today’s going to be a good day, and here’s the reason why . . . The problem being reasons are few and far between. Evan returns for a new year at high school with a broken arm after falling from a tree in a summer job as an assistant park ranger – a job working alone, incidentally. No one wants to sign his cast until school psycho and druggie Connor Murphy has an out of character moment and signs it, you suspect sarcastically, as Evan’s best friend. He then finds the latest Dear Evan letter which mentions his sister, Zoe, who Evan fancies like crazy. It’s enough for Connor to explode and storm off with the letter . . . and change Evan’s world for ever. Most little white lies placate or reassure and are soon forgotten, but when Evan is called to the Principal’s office to meet Connor’s parents, Cynthia and Larry, a white lie to comfort them, grows like Topsy into an industry. We discover Connor has killed himself and the Dear Evan Hansen letter with all Evan’s thoughts about his love for his sister, his mother and all his feelings was found on him . . . They think it is a letter to Evan and Evan tries to tell them the truth but the Murphys are clinging to the letter, clinging to the idea that their surly, antisocial, argumentative, rebellious, disrespectful, druggie, more than likely future criminal son had a gentle, emotional side, had a close best friend, was able to laugh and one day would have miraculously been the fine young man they would be proud to call their son.
Lauren Conroy as Zoe and Ryan Kopel as Evan The truth would hurt an already grieving family while the lie eased the pain so Evan went along with a narrative he knew was wrong. West End and Broadway star Helen Anker gives us a Cynthia battling to keep her family intact with a son Connor, now dead, who hated everyone and everything, a husband who was distant and a daughter, Zoe, who resented what she saw as the attention being lavished on her waste of space brother. Cynthia also has a penchant for regular healthy living fads, a year into Buddhism and no meat, for example. Richard Hurst gives us a Larry who seems distant and more interested in work than family and you get the feeling that he resents Connor and regrets never having the son he wanted, a son to teach baseball and football, to be dad and his boy (To Break In A Glove). Instead he got Connor. Then there is Zoe, adored, secretly, by Evan. She is a jazz guitarist in the school band and disliked the monstrous Connor to the point of hatred and she questions the narrative but the letter and the outpouring of love for her sparked an interested in the best friend he had confided in . . . Evan. In a beautifully nuanced performance from Lauren Conroy. It gives us a sort of Cyrano de Bergerac moment as Evan tells Zoe how he feels about her pretending it is what Connor had said in the sad love song If I could Tell her. The lie had brought the broken Murphy family together but the lie now needed feeding so enter fellow pupil, friend, just family friend mind, Jared, given a sarcastic, somewhat droll attitude by Tom Dickerson. Jared finds the whole thing a bit of a joke and when Evan ignores his advice to nod and agree with anything the Murphy family say to him, adding fanciful elaboration, it is fun loving Jarad who agrees to pick up the pieces creating a fictional Connor online. Then we have Alana, another pupil, who, as the white lie takes on a life of its own, is another of Connor’s new found friends, Connor the anti-social loner is finding he has far more friends dead than he ever had alive when the total was . . . well, less than one. Indeed Killian Thomas Lefevre as Connor is far friendlier dead than he was alive, giving his views and ideas to his new best friend Evan . . . don't ask.
Ryan Kopel as Evan, Tom Dickerson as Jared and Killian Thomas Lefevre as Connor Vivian Panka gives us an enthusiastic, full of almost religious zeal, Alana, a driving force behind the Connor Murphy Project fundraiser to buy the derelict orchard where besties Evan and Connor, don't laugh, spent so many happy hours . . . she is also dedicated to amassing credits for her CV to boost her college chances . . . just saying. As we saw with the recent tragic events in Southport social media is a powerful force, and not always for good as rumour, speculation, lies, falsehoods and random thoughts spread like wildfire in a tinder dry forest. Connor has become a hero. For what? Of What? Why? Who knows, the social media juggernaut has snatched him up and swept him along until another little lie to keep the project on track backfires spectacularly, leaving the Murphy’s as villains to the thousands of Connor followers . . .and Evan finally has to come to terms with the truth. Without any moralising or preaching we have looked at mental illness, loneliness, teen angst and suicide, grief and divorce, to do what theatre does at its best, telling a believable story about ordinary people and leaving you with things to think about on the way home. Not that this is miserable affair it has plenty of laughs along the way and despite Connor being dead most of the time he's on stage, it is full of life The songs from Benj Pasek and Justin Paul are wonderful, narrational and conversational – think Jason Robert Brown and The Last Five Years – all part of the story while Morgan Large’s set with its sliding panels and multiple screens appearing on an otherwise empty stage contrasts the simple lives of the Murphys and the Hansens, small town America, with the vastness and reach of social media while Matt Dow’s lighting is dramatic, at times swamping the stage aided by Ravi Deepres’ video design. The fine orchestra under musical director Michael Bradley is satisfyingly large for a touring production, nine strong, and it shows in a more rounded, more resonant sound. All well balanced by Tom Marshall’s sound, a skill that is only noticed when it goes wrong. With a witty and telling book from Steven Levenson and well-paced and on track direction from Adam Penford this really is a show to be savoured. It produced an immediate standing ovation and, for once, it was a production that deserved it. Evan will be writing notes to himself to 26-10-24. Roger Clarke 22-10-24 |
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