STC’s production of Dear Evan Hansen takes an earnest, pop-rock hit at the horrors of social media

Dear Evan Hansen’s pop-rock score is full of attractive songs. The best are sung gorgeously by endearing and optimistic star Beau Woodbridge, despite being pitched treacherously high.

Georgia Laga'aia and Beau Woodbridge in Sydney Theatre Company and Michael Cassel Group's Dear Evan Hansen, 2024. Photo: Daniel Boud

Is there anyone, anywhere, ever, who hasn’t kept shtum about something not precisely true when put under pressure? Mostly it doesn’t matter but in the earnest chamber musical Dear Evan Hansen, the ramifications are far-reaching.

Poor Evan Hansen. A misunderstanding that could have been dispelled in seconds takes on a life of its own, multiplying like a rogue cell under the light of a zillion social media likes and views and retweets.

The moment of lift-off is when awkward, lonely Evan Hansen (Beau Woodbridge) is mistakenly believed to be a friend – the only friend – of a druggie schoolmate who killed himself. Immediately he has cachet in the eyes of those who love to attach themselves to tragedy (“second-hand sorrow”, as one character puts it).

(L-R Jacob Rozario, Natalie O'Donnell, Verity Hunt-Ballard, Beau Woodbridge, Harry Targett, Carmel Rodrigues and Georgia Laga'aia in Sydney Theatre Company and Michael Cassel Group's Dear Evan Hansen, 2024. Picture Daniel Boud

Before Connor’s death, Evan is effectively invisible. He is, he sings, waving through a window but no one sees. One of his classmates, amusingly officious Alana Beck (Carmel Rodrigues), definitely sees him now and kickstarts a campaign to acknow­ledge teen angst.

It goes viral, Evan becomes a star and is embraced by Connor’s grieving parents.

These are weighty matters and it’s up to Woodbridge, rarely offstage, to carry the load almost single-handedly in this new production directed by Dean Bryant and given a clinical, hi-tech design by Jeremy Allen.

The show’s critique of social media isn’t really the issue, although given prominence via David Bergman’s video design. It just amplifies the problem of a teenager profoundly disconnected from a world where the means of connection are ubiquitous.

Woodbridge’s Evan has a sweet, bright, eager, anxious face and a tendency to spill his words everywhere in a jumble. He’s a bit clumsy and has a painfully thin protective layer, particularly when with the girl he has a crush on, Connor’s sister Zoe (Georgia Laga’aia, smart and poised).

(L-R) Carmel Rodrigues, Jacob Rozario, Beau Woodbridge, Natalie O'Donnell, Martin Crewes and Georgia Laga'aia in Sydney Theatre Company and Michael Cassel Group's Dear Evan Hansen, 2024. Picture: Daniel Boud

It’s an endearing performance and an optimistic one. Evan is a boy who will get better.

If Evan is hungry to be liked, so is this show. The dead Connor (charismatic Harry Targett) is brought back as a ghostly adviser to Evan and is now quite a spunk. The somewhat clunky device sidelines thoughts of death and clears the way for a brisk, often funny look at the commodification of tragedy.

Connor needs to move quickly because his story will be displaced soon enough.

And because we need to like Evan as much as he needs approbation, the deceiving of Connor’s greatly distressed parents (Martin Crewes and Natalie O’Donnell) is at first given comic treatment as Evan and family friend Jared Kleinman (lively Jacob Rozario) concoct an email trail to prove Evan knew Connor well.

Verity Hunt-Ballard and Beau Woodbridge in Sydney Theatre Company and Michael Cassel Group's Dear Evan Hansen, 2024.

All this means Steven Levenson’s book wavers in tone although much can be forgiven a writer who slips in some stinging zingers, the most audacious of which is a reference to Connor’s look. “Very schoolshooter chic” apparently.

The pop-rock score by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, who also wrote the lyrics, is full of attractive songs. The best are for Evan – bar one – and sung gorgeously by Woodbridge despite being pitched treacherously high.

The score’s indisputable highlight, though, is given to Evan’s overstretched mother Heidi. The heartbreaking So Big/So Small comes almost at the end of Dear Evan Hansen and is a masterpiece of concentrated story­telling, superbly interpreted by Verity Hunt-Ballard.

Here is the quiet reflection, stillness, communication and human warmth Evan so desperately needs.

Dear Evan Hansen, at the Sydney Theatre Company, to December 1