Dear Evan Hanson: A Review

I’m conflicted as hell about Dear Evan Hanson, y’all — for realz!

I’ve got about 30 post lined up, but I’m realizing that’s too much for most folks to keep up. It’s gonna be one post a week.

Now to business.

I’m not gonna hate on Dear Evan Hanson. I have only the most minuscule complaints about the movie’s artistry. The music isn’t one of them. I’ve been wearing out Spotify listening to the soundtrack on repeat. The film was well acted by a stellar cast that included Amy Adams and Julianne Moore as the moms in the two families that become enmeshed. Everyone was good, if not great in their respective role. The story was engaging. All the ingredients of a great tearjerker were in the mix.

The tears were not shed. What didn’t work for me? First, Ben Platt in the title role, for which they won the Tony, Emmy and Grammy Awards for work in the Broadway production. The diva has pipes. Their singing was just phenomenal. Platt’s acting is always riveting, but not since Diana Ross played Dorothy in the film version of The Wiz have I been so jarred by the obvious age inappropriateness. Platt is not believable as a high school student. Their gaunt face is clearly closer to 30 than 20, much less 16. Casting older can work if it’s across the board (as with the movie Grease and all those grown ass actors playing kids). As it was, it bordered on absurd.

My other issue was, in spite of a fairly diverse cast, the film so centered the same old middle-upperclass cultural perspectives that dominate films. It was just soooo, White. I’m also over seeing onscreen families (even poor families) living in beautiful homes with kids attending impeccable and fully resources schools. Stories of the traumas in this uber-privileged environment, get lost as I find myself thinking, “What a nice kitchen they have. The street all look so clean. They sure have a lot of extracurricular activities available”.

Lastly, several plot points just didn’t ring true—major plot points. The story is jolted forward by some character choices that didn’t make sense. What happens to the letter referenced in the title (that begins “Dear Evan Hanson”), the family members convinced by details later fabricated about the letter, and the reaction of the community to the sentiments spoken by a moments heretofore figure of derision—all rang fake. Even pumped up on estrogen, I didn’t get to have the cry I went to the movie to enjoy.

I’m not saying don’t go. There’s a lot great about the picture. Perhaps start with the sound track and if you love that, go see it and enjoy the visuals that go along with the music. I imagine a lot of people will really love the movie. It would certainly be hard to hate, if you like musicals and aren’t too triggered by yet another visit to the jungle that is high school. Not a glowing recommendation.