WHAT HAS OUR society come to, when a big stagey musical can sing loudly and crassly to the potency of lying about the dead? Dear Evan Hansen is an American production based on a novel which first saw light of day onstage. Then it was made into a less successful film and has now become an international theatre franchise, reeking with the kind of platitudes that have been the morals of children’s literature since time immemorial and are now being feted as brand new, inspiring and of value. Have we, as a world, forgotten ourselves entirely? Dear Evan Hansen performs at Teatro, Montecasino until 6 April 2025.
And as loud, hard-edged stage musicals go, where the characters are dwarfed by massive technological sets, the lyrics are profoundly superficial and the lights set to penetrate your eyelids, it presents technical competence. There are some beautiful moments of harmony between singers who hold the complex notes of this musical well. Stuart Brown opposite Michael Stray as Evan Hansen and Connor Murphy, respectively, work together compellingly, vocally and choreographically. Keely Crocker and Sharon Spiegel Wagner, as daughter and mother, too, reach vocal heights and nuances that ring with beauty.
But the narrative that conceptually holds this work together is so irrepressibly toxic, bleating notions such as “you’re never alone”, when the whole story is couched in a culture of dismissal seems counterintuitive. A boy dies alone by his own hand. His parents announce this fact publicly as though they are commenting on the weather. Nothing further about this death – the whys, the hows, the realities – are part of the script. All we’re left with is the absence in the world of a child who was not loved – and a callous opportunity for those who knew nothing real about him to bask in the momentary headline news at school of his death.
It begs the question of what the young people in the audience of a show of this nature are actually getting out of it. It also ponders what big-scale musicals are really for. Yes, in this industry, there are musicals about murder and mayhem, about glorifying baddies and singing the praises of medical conditions. We are able to laugh with darkness at evil situations, as we are empowered to look cancers in the eye. But in Dear Evan Hansen, we have characters not sufficiently developed to contain nuance. They’re scripted like cardboard cut-outs. They’re articulating difficult moral standpoints, in crude black and white.
This show potentially resonates with works like Jonathan Larson’s 1994 musical Rent, but lacks the depth of focus espoused there. Similarly, the value of the Netflix/BBC production Adolescence reflects the messiness of what matters in society for very young people, and has no clear moral answer, but it’s a work of unequivocal skill and art. Dear Evan Hansen plays to the lowest common denominator of audiences. It’s loud, it’s rude, it laughs at gay boys and has bright lights and loud music and lots of profanity. It’s like a comic book, or a 1980s tv soapie in its sense of dialogue. A step needs to be taken back. What exactly is this work saying and doing? And why?
The tale is allowed to unfold over an interval, presenting a vindication of its initial premises in the second half, and thus give it balance. But so reprehensible are these initial premises that they cannot easily be vindicated. Loss is not well described or meaningfully reflected here. Sudden loss. The loss of a child. Of a sibling. None of this is convincing. And it’s a situation of a teenager no one knew or liked, topping himself and offering the world an opportunity to dance on his proverbial grave with their loves of themselves and a fictitious reflection of who that child may have been, to impress his parents and seduce his sister. It’s obscene and meaningless.
The stage is dominated by a huge technological tower of light, jam-packed with projections and other audio-visual tricks, which when triggered into full action, is an instant panic attack or migraine. Yes, the makers of this work are illustrating the massive impact of social media discourse on young lives, but terrifyingly, this set makes mockery of all the other values that the piece tries to articulate. There are the well-intentioned parents who know nothing of their children’s inner lives, the egotistical youngsters who are more attuned to their own popularity than anything else, the teenagers who are all caught in their own echo-chambers. But the dominance of LED tricks and surprises is so overwhelming, it might be all you’re left with on your way home.
In essence, Dear Evan Hansen is not only homophobic in its jocularity, but it does the opposite of what it promises. In so loudly parading the “you’re never alone” mantra, it becomes a kind of a threat to the individual who wants to be quiet and alone, and almost an incentive to flee from a scaringly grinning society that offers a million digital hearts, “thoughts and prayers” and whatever lies you can paste over someone else’s truths, rather than basic empathy or the ability to just listen to another person.
Dear Evan Hansen is written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul based on the 2011 book by Steven Levenson. It is directed by Greg Karvellas and features creative input by Kurt Haupt (musical direction), Alistair Kilbee (technical direction), Niall Griffin (set, lighting and costumes), Louisa Talbot (choreography), David Classen (sound) and Alex Lacamoire (orchestration and additional arrangements). It is performed by Léa Blerk, Charlie Bouguenon, Stuart Brown, Keely Crocker, Kent Jeycocke, Shelley Lothian, Ntshikeng Matooane, Arno Meyer, Sharon Spiegel Wagner, Michael Stray, Justin Swartz and Lucy Tops. Co-produced by How Now Brown Cow Productions and Showtime Management, it is onstage at Teatro, Montecasino in Fourways until 6 April 2025.
Categories: musical, Review, Robyn Sassen, Theatre, Uncategorized
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Congratulations on a thorough and well-considered review of Dear Evan Hansen. I’m just so relieved that I’m not the only one who didn’t enjoy the show, for the exact reasons that you so eloquently provide.
Hi Robyn,
Thank you so much for taking the time to see the show and for writing such a considered review. I know what I’m doing here — a director responding to a review in the comments section — is a bit unorthodox, but to be honest, it’s so rare to get a properly critical review in South Africa that, as a theatre maker, it feels like gold. So I want to respond.
It gives me a chance to reflect on the work not just through the “yay me” lens, but through a critical one. Artistic critique is like water to a thirsty person in the desert for theatre makers in South Africa.
I’m only responding because you’ve reacted to the piece on exactly the themes and ideas we were trying to explore — and I find your take genuinely fascinating. This isn’t an argument, just an appreciation for a good discussion.
I’ve also been doing this long enough to not take anything personally. And Marina’s comment (someone I respect deeply and who’s seen most, if not all, of my professional work) also means a lot to me — I’d love to hear more from her perspective too.
For what it’s worth, I think there were many, especially in the theatre community, who didn’t connect with the piece — which is, in its own way, important and worth talking about.
Your central question — “What are we teaching our teens?” — really struck me. Because in many ways, it’s at the very heart of this piece. It’s such a vital question to ask — especially in a country where we don’t often get the opportunity to stage newer musicals like this. It’s not just another re-staging of a musical we’ve seen before in SA — it’s new, modern (like Rent was in 2005 — 20 years ago!), and I think that’s part of what makes Dear Evan Hansen so unusual and so worth interrogating. Believe me, the producers and I have had this exact discussion more than once!
What I found really affirming is that many of the elements you raise as concerns are the exact things we were intentionally trying to highlight:
– the overwhelming nature of technology (screens, bullying, the comments section),
– the way grief can be commodified online (the news cycle, social media, the comments section),
– the curation of identity through digital personas (the flat, perfect world we see online),
– and the often persistent, heartbreaking homophobia among teenagers (throw a rock at a private school in Cape Town and you’ll hit it),
– finally, the disconnect between parents and their children in a tech-driven world (I noted the comparison to Adolescence — but with respect, I think that’s apples (TV) and pears(Theatre).
The fact that your review picked up on these tensions perhaps is the work is doing its job — though you felt we, or maybe the piece as a piece, didn’t quite crack it, fair enough.
You’re right, we’re playing to the lowest common denominator. I think you’re referring here to the general public? If so, I would agree. It’s a very intimate, dramatic musical (which again makes it unusual) with huge book scenes — not just little bits of story between the songs, which is what SA audiences expect from a musical. So the tension between telling a very dramatic narrative story and giving people what they want (or think they want) is a tightrope to walk. Part of the reason I wanted to do it.
Where I do understand the disconnect is perhaps in how the show’s central message — “You are not alone” — lands. It’s broad, yes. And I completely get how it might feel like a neat or even cloying resolution to a tangled, morally complex story. But for me, it’s not a resolution — it’s a reach. A hand through the noise.
In this messy, fractured, and increasingly isolating world (especially for teens), I think the idea/message of simply being seen still matters. Even if it’s imperfect. Even if you’ve made mistakes. So many kids these days get themselves into dangerous online situations, sometimes with heartbreaking results.
Also — and I say this with total kindness! — just one small factual correction: Dear Evan Hansen was originally conceived as a stage musical (premiered in 2015). The novel came in 2018, and then the film adaptation in 2021. (The movie version… was horrendous. Truly a cash grab that didn’t work. Most people who love the stage version, including me, pretend it doesn’t exist!).
Finally, I just want to say again how much I value thoughtful criticism like yours — the kind that digs in, questions intention, and invites reflection. It’s not always easy to read, but it’s so necessary. As directors and storytellers, we don’t grow if we’re only ever met with applause.
So truly — thank you. I hope the show continues to spark conversation long after the set is packed away.
Warmly and with respect,
Greg Karvellas (the Director of Dear Evan Hansen)
As the Musical Supervisor of Dear Evan Hansen in its current South African production, I feel compelled to respond to this recent review and Marina Griebenow’s comment—not from a place of defensiveness, but from a deep understanding of the work, the process, and the heart that fuels this piece.
What the reviewer sees as “loud,” “crass,” and “obscene” is, to me—and to many who have worked on or experienced this show worldwide—something far more human: a cry. A cry for connection, for understanding, and for the acknowledgement of pain that often goes unheard.
We did not approach this work lightly. In the rehearsal room, we wrestled with the very moral complexities the reviewer claims are absent. We asked the difficult questions. We dissected the ethical implications of Evan’s actions, the silence surrounding Connor’s death, and the uncomfortable grey area between loneliness and deceit. These are not simple characters; they are flawed, vulnerable, and painfully real. That’s the point.
To suggest the show promotes lying about the dead is a profound misreading of its intent. Evan’s lie is not celebrated—it is unravelled. And what remains is not vindication but reckoning. The show holds a mirror to how easily people can be swept into narratives that soothe their own discomfort while ignoring the truth. It doesn’t excuse that. It reveals it.
As for the accusation that the show “laughs at gay boys”—this is not only factually incorrect, but irresponsible. There is no such ridicule in the script. If anything, Dear Evan Hansen has been critiqued in other circles for not being diverse enough, but never for punching down.
And then there’s the heart of it all: teenagers in 2025. Is the reviewer truly aware of what they’re facing? The digital noise, the pressure to be perfect, the fear of being invisible? Dear Evan Hansen resonates so powerfully with young people not because it wraps everything in a moral bow, but because it gets it. It understands the paralysis of anxiety, the ache of being unseen, the yearning to matter.
Yes, the staging is bold. The LED towers and visual chaos are meant to be overwhelming. They echo the over-stimulation that so many young people live with daily. The set is not a gimmick—it’s a reflection of the inner storm.
If the reviewer found the show disorienting, messy, or morally difficult—then I’d argue it succeeded. Because those are the very emotions we sought to confront. It’s not a musical about easy answers. It’s about being found in the mess.
This show has given voice to young people who feel they don’t have one. It has made audiences—parents, teachers, friends—ask how well they really know the young people in their lives. I’ve seen teenagers sobbing in the foyer after the show, not because they felt manipulated, but because they finally felt seen.
Criticism is vital. But it must be informed, especially when discussing work that deals with mental health, suicide, and the teenage experience. We owe it to the young people sitting in those seats—many of whom are quietly fighting battles we can’t see—to engage with more nuance, more care, and more listening.
This show may be imperfect. But it’s also important.
Dear Robyn,
I urge you not to miss the opportunity to see Dear Evan Hansen again before it closes at the Teatro. I would also urge you to read the book.
This is such an important piece of theatre for a myriad of reasons.
From a live theatre point of view:
We so sorely need new contemporary work that attracts a younger audience to the theatres. This is not just necessary, but essential to sustain a thriving and living industry. We cannot continue to rely on stock favourites. They are gorgeous productions, but the audiences that they attract, to be blunt, are dying. They also do not push any creative or thought-provoking boundaries or address any current and topical subjects.
I have watched this production twice and each time has left me breathless. This last Sunday we had a block booking of 150 seats for our school. This meant that I sat amongst 150 parents and teenagers (between the ages of 16-18). The message of DEH not only impacts the teenagers, but is so profoundly important for parents who are battling a new world. A world where the rules have changed. A world that we don’t know or understand because social media was not a thing when we were growing up. A world that can come crashing down around our ears at any given moment.
Yes, it’s loud and crass and it may seem that suicide is “glorified”, but believe me when I say that teenagers today know more about suicide than they should and more than we ever will. They ALL know someone who has committed suicide and sweeping this subject under the rug is not only damaging but irresponsible and dangerous. DEH addresses so many of the confusing, conflicting and guilt-ridden emotions that follow a suicide. It is so very important to remove the stigma and make it “okay” to express these feelings.
The LED lighting, set and projections are exactly how “loud” online life is. Throw on a pair of headphones and fixate on your phone and you’ll be living what so many teenagers live these days. Completely overstimulating, overwhelming, sleep depriving, isolating and unhealthy. We can’t ignore it. It is real and relevant and so prevalent.
I witnessed such emotion in our group of 150. I was worried – organising 150 tickets for a school when I knew there was swearing, sexual references, mental health themes. But, oh my word, the Headmaster wants to put DEH on as the Major Production next year, because it is so relevant that he feels that the whole school and all the parents NEED to see it.
This is a story that is very real with consequences that, judging by the gasps and sympathetic sounds I was hearing around me, had a major impact on the audience. For this I am very grateful.
Please go and see it again. You may feel differently the second time.
Also, by the way….the young cast is absolutely outstanding in this production. No BIG names. No DRAW CARD casting. Perfect a-political casting of a hardworking and talented group of young artists who represent the future of theatre in South Africa. They deserve more than what you have written above.
Kind regards,
Sam Nupen (SamSays)