Grief in the Time of Twitter

Review: Dear Evan Hansen

Ben Platt (center) and the cast of Dear Evan Hansen

One of the best musicals of the year is playing just Off-Broadway on West 43rd Street, where Dear Evan Hansen recently opened at the Second Stage Theatre. Featuring a top-notch score by Tony-nominated songwriters Benj Pasek and Justin Paul along with a host of dynamic performances, Evan Hansen is the definition of a contemporary musical, tackling the concerns and issues arising from our increasingly digital society with wit and deep psychological insight.

The story follows the titular Evan Hansen, an awkward, lonely teen starting his senior year of high school with a broken wrist and very few friends. On the first day of school, a series of misunderstandings leads others to assume Evan is friends with another loner, Connor Murphy, a troubled youth who takes his own life just a few days later. With Connor's family turning to Evan for comfort, the misunderstanding steadily grows thanks to the power of social media and Evan's own questionable choices.

At the heart of Steven Levenson's book is a mature, probing look at grief and how tragedies bind us together in the age of social media and viral videos. The show is not about what led Connor to take his own life (an explanation is never provided or even hinted at), but rather about how those left behind process their grief. It also examines the communal aspects of the way we mourn, and asks how much of the professed sadness on social media stems from a desire to belong to some kind of community, even one bound together by tragedy. Levenson's layered writing manages to tackle these issues in a way that feels both specific and universal, all while keeping the show's action rooted in the fully realized characters at the heart of the story.

Augmenting the emotional exploration of the piece immensely is Pasek and Paul's fantastic pop-rock score, a marvel of modern musical theatre songwriting that packs in all the vocal tricks associated with contemporary music (sky high belting, complex riffs, and tight harmonies) without ever feeling flashy or showy. For all of the pair's giddy musical invention, they ensure that every note and syllable furthers the story and characters, with every song serving multiple functions. Evan's soaring "For Forever" paints a beautiful picture of a (fictional) summer day, setting into motion the story's central deception while simultaneously allowing him to express his innermost desires, all carried off using one of the catchiest melodic hooks of the past few seasons. This kind of complex writing makes every musical number a treat, and the lush orchestrations by Alex Lacamoire make the small 8-person band sound just as rich as a pit twice the size.

The cast is first rate, anchored by Ben Platt's searing portrayal of the lonely and lost Evan Hansen. Known primarily for comedic roles in films like Pitch Perfect and musicals like The Book of Mormon, Platt reveals unending wells of deeply felt emotion over the course of the evening. Unafraid of being vulnerable, by the time Platt sings his character's climatic "Words Fail" both he and the audience are reduced to a blubbering mess, the kind of shared catharsis that occurs only when an actor lays their entire soul bare onstage. Yet Platt is also laugh-out-loud funny, mining Levenson's book for all its humor and providing an excellent comedic balance to the show's gut-wrenching pathos. If Platt occasionally overdoes his character's physical tics, the rest of his performance is so compelling you're unlikely to care.

Rachel Bay Jones is fantastic as Evan's mother Heidi, showing us every facet of a single mother struggling "without a roadmap" to be the best parent she can be to her pride and joy. Jones' instantly accessible persona draws you in while her extremely expressive face conveys a wealth of conflicting emotions, all of which finally bubble to the surface during "Good For You." Just a few scenes later, the supremely gifted actress is both heartwarming and quietly devastating during "So Big/So Small," one of the most touching musical moments of the season.

Both Jennifer Laura Thompson and John Dossett are excellent as Connor's parents, offering very different but entirely captivating portrayals of grief. Laura Dreyfuss offers what initially appears to be a generic take on Connor's younger sister, but by the time she gets to her first big solo she reveals a convincingly complex take on someone who both loathes and desperately misses her big brother. And although Mike Faist doesn't get a lot of time onstage as the real Connor Murphy, the character returns multiple times in other people's memories, and Faist's ability to slightly alter his characterization to reflect how each character remembers him is astounding.

Director Michael Greif uses many of the same tricks he employed in past shows like Rent, If/Then, and the Pulitzer Prize-winning Next to Normal, the show Dear Evan Hansen is most obviously inspired by. While this can occasionally make his staging feel derivative, there's no denying that those tricks work, and few directors are better at making a mostly bare stage interesting to look at than Greif. He has also guided his actors to career-defining performances, making for one of the tightest onstage ensembles since, well, Next to Normal.

For all its dark overtones, Dear Evan Hansen proves to be an ultimately uplifting and deeply satisfying piece of theatre, Already more accomplished than the majority of big Broadway offerings this season, the show continues the boundary-pushing experimentation of musicals like Fun Home and the megahit Hamilton, both of which originated Off-Broadway before making their much-acclaimed Main Stem bows. Since producers have yet to announce any transfer plans for this more than deserving show, everyone should rush to see this first rate musical drama while they still can.

A Musical Comedy Stuck in 2nd Gear

Review:  Little Miss Sunshine

Stephanie J. Block, Rory O'Malley, and Will Swenson prove why they're all Tony-nominated actors as they struggle mightily to overcome Little Miss Sunshine's shortcomings.

Perhaps it's fitting that Little Miss Sunshine, the latest collaboration between director/librettist James Lapine and composer William Finn, fails to live up to expectations.  The new tuner, just like the 2006 independent film on which it is based, examines how a dysfunctional family deals with the dashed expectations of their rather run-of-the-mill lives.  And just like in real life, it is borderline painful to watch hard-working and talented people (in this case, the mostly excellent cast) struggle to overcome the bad hand they've been dealt, which here takes the form of a poorly constructed and tonally confused one-act musical.  Not since 2010's deeply flawed Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown has a show sounded so good on paper and so thoroughly failed to deliver on stage.

Like it's filmic counterpart, Little Miss Sunshine tells the story of the unassuming Hoover clan and their cross-country road trip to get 9-year-old Olive (Hannah Nordberg) to the titular beauty pageant.  Family matriarch Sheryl (Stephanie J. Block) works long hours to support her family since her husband Richard (Will Swenson) was laid off of his job.  Richard is hoping to sell the publishing rights to his self-help blog, much to the derision of his foul-mouthed, lascivious father, known only as Grandpa (David Rasche).  Meanwhile Sheryl and Richard's son Dwayne (Logan Rowland) has taken a vow of silence until he achieves his goal of joining the Air Force, and Sheryl's suicidal gay brother Frank (Rory O'Malley) is staying with the family while he recovers from his latest "episode."  When the family finds out that little Olive has been chosen as a last minute contestant, they all pile into the family's VW bus in hopes of making it to the pageant on time.

The source material presents several challenges, none of which are successfully addressed by the creative team.  With the exception of Olive, the family members all seem to barely tolerate one another, giving off the impression they'd rather be anywhere but stuck in a van together.  Yes, the narrative is designed to show these people come to realize how much they love each other, but without even a glimmer of kindness or affection to begin with the first half of the show is a rather miserable experience.  There are hints of interesting and dynamic pairings during the opening scenes, and the show would be better served by expounding on these so there was at least some joy in the opening segments.  For instance, Grandpa may have total disdain for the rest of the Hoover clan, but playing up his affection for Olive would have gone a long way towards making him more bearable (he's easily the show's most insufferable character).  There is an odd bond caused by the shared existentialism of Frank and Dwayne that would be great to see explored further and sooner.  If each character seemed to like at least one other person at the musical's outset, then there would be something to help offset the snarkiness and general misery of what is advertised as a musical "comedy."

Even more devastating is the writing team's inability to settle on a workable tone.  There is a lot of drama and angst on display, but it isn't presented or examined in enough detail for the show to effectively work as serious character piece.  Yet there is enough heavy subject matter - including undertones of marital strife, the burdens of unemployment, and the disappointment of unrealized ambition - that the attempts at comedy never really take off.  The razor sharp wit and gonzo sense of humor so apparent in Lapine's libretto for the duo's last collaboration, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, is inexplicably absent for much of the show.  The scenes set during the "Little Miss Sunshine" pageant have this self-aware cheekiness in spades, and are so effective that it makes you retroactively wish the entire production was an equally over-the-top farce. 

Finn's score is easily the least memorable aspect of the show, which is especially disappointing given the composer's sterling work elsewhere.  There are some fine bits of ensemble music scattered throughout, but these sections are few and far between and unfortunately bookended by fairly clunky solo numbers.  Even worse, almost none of the songs have a clear purpose, lessening their dramatic impact.  There is an extended sequence where Frank encounters the man who prompted his suicide attempt, and though Frank claims to have moved on he continually sings about the other man's physical beauty.  Rather than coming across as a believably mixed set of emotions, the song makes Frank seem bipolar and lacks any kind of internal logic.  There is a flashback to before Sheryl and Richard got married that appears designed to show the love they once felt for each other, but consists of the characters being incredibly ambivalent toward one another until suddenly they aren't.  What are intended to be revealing character moments come across as muddy and confused instead, and leave the audience even more confused about who these people truly are.

The cast struggles mightily to rise above the writing's shortcomings, and do a good enough job that you can't help but wish they had better material to work with.  Stephanie J. Block shows a subtleness and range she hasn't often been asked to use, while still finding moments to show off her comedic chops (if only the score allowed her a better showcase for that phenomenal voice).  Rory O'Malley does some of his most affecting work yet as the deeply troubled Frank, and sounds fantastic on his two main duets.  Richard's straight-laced nature robs Will Swenson of the chance to use the utter fearlessness that made him so beguiling in Hair, but it's nice to see such a talented actor push himself in new directions.  Young Hannah Nordberg is cute as a button as Olive, and Logan Rowland conveys plenty of character despite remaining mute for over half of the show.  There are also two scene-stealing turns by Jennifer Sanchez as Linda the "Bereavement Consoler" and as the reigning Miss California, which point to the show that could have been had the authors chosen to fully embrace the quirkiness that turned Spelling Bee into a surprise hit.  The only actor who fails to make much of an impression is David Rasche as Grandpa, who is saddled with the worse material of the bunch and does little to disguise its shortcomings.

Lapine the director comes across better than Lapine the librettist, managing to keep the staging fresh and interesting despite the fact that over half the action takes place in the confines of an old VW bus.  He somehow manages to make actors running in place and miming the pushing of a van exciting, and knows just how to use Beowulf Boritt's deceptively simple set to maximum effect.  There are also fun touches by costumer Jennifer Capiro (who thankfully gets to costume both a swimsuit and eveningwear competition for the 9-year-old pageant girls) and lighting designer Ken Billington.

But ultimately, all of the talent in the world cannot save bad writing, and unfortunately Little Miss Sunshine features some very bad writing by people who should really know better.  Lapine and Finn have been responsible for some of the most innovative small-scale musicals of the past 20 years, not to mention Lapine's incredible collaborations with musical theatre genius Stephen Sondheim.  How Lapine and Finn managed to drop the ball so completely remains a mystery, and unfortunately their talented cast and crew are left to pick up the pieces.  Even diehard musical theatre fans can find a better use of their time this fall, given the wealth of innovative and inventive new musicals both on Broadway and Off.

Goodbye Until Tomorrow

Review:  The Last Five Years

You'll want to spend more than just the next ten minutes with Adam Kantor and Betsy Wolfe in The Last Five Years.

The original production of Jason Robert Brown’s semi-autobiographical musical The Last Five Years only ran for two months Off-Broadway, but thanks to a beloved cast album featuring Norbert Leo Butz and Sherrie Renee Scott the show has gone on to achieve genuine cult status.  But despite hundreds of college and regional productions during the eleven years since its premiere, the current Second Stage Theatre revival marks this chamber musical’s first return New York City engagement, and the first chance many fans (myself included) have had to actually see the show live.  Those myriad fans, and anyone else with an appreciation for serious musical dramas, will be happy to know that this revival not only meets but at times even exceeds the lofty expectations brought on by its vaunted reputation.

A high concept affair based in part on Brown’s failed first marriage, The Last Five Years chronicles the relationship of aspiring young actress Cathy Hyatt and writing wunderkind Jamie Wellerstein.  The twist is that while Jamie’s story unfolds in chronological order, Cathy’s tale is told in reverse, beginning with the couple’s divorce and ending on the night of their first date.  While an interesting idea, this approach means the actors in this two person chamber musical almost never interact, save during their wedding day at the show’s midpoint.  The concept also requires the audience to track the two stories separately and figure out how they overlap as the evening progresses.  Although an ultimately rewarding gimmick, the time jumping narrative does keep the audience from fully engaging with the characters for the first twenty or so of the show’s intermissionless ninety minutes.

Thankfully, whatever clunkiness is caused by the show’s narrative structure is more than compensated for by its lushly romantic score.  Since first bursting onto the scene in the mid-nineties with Songs for a New World, Brown has been routinely hailed as one of the most sophisticated composers of his generation.  The Last Five Years is his most unabashedly beautiful score to date, a perfect melding of pop-influenced character songs and gut-wrenching ballads.  Vocally demanding and richly textured, Brown’s music rewards repeated listening thanks to its subtle motifs and complex, often surprising lyrics which speak volumes about the characters singing them.  Brown has also ingeniously orchestrated the piece with a fullness that belies the six person pit’s small size, making judicious use of strings to add to the music’s romantic flair.

Brown’s music is notoriously difficult to sing, and finding two young performers with the vocal ability and emotional maturity to bring this score to life is one of the primary challenges facing any proposed production.  For this incarnation, Brown – who also assumes directing duties – has found the exceedingly talented Betsy Wolfe and Adam Kantor to embody Cathy and Jamie, respectively. 

Wolfe in particular is simply sensational, immediately banishing any memories of Sherrie Renee Scott’s performance (no small task) and making Cathy entirely her own.  With an emotional vulnerability that pulls the audience in, she creates a wholly sympathetic portrayal of a not entirely likable woman, as Cathy’s crushing self-doubt and neurotic need for attention are at least partially to blame for her marriage’s eventual collapse.  Wolfe starts the show on a high note with a superbly acted “Still Hurting” and proceeds to improve from there, and as Cathy regresses to happier times Wolfe gets to display her finely tuned skills as a comedienne.  She turns Brown’s purposefully ridiculous “A Summer in Ohio” into comedic gold, and her pitch-perfect send up of every bad audition habit during “Climbing Uphill” will be especially appreciated by anyone unlucky enough to experience such a thing in person.  The actress sings like a dream, tenderly caressing her notes or belting them to the rafters as the score dictates.  It is a star-making performance, and I expect Wolfe to become one of the city’s most in-demand musical actresses following her work here.

Kantor is slightly more problematic as Jamie, at least initially.  His first song, “Shiksa Goddess,” is surprisingly subdued both vocally and emotionally considering the song is about the unequaled thrill of a stellar first date.  But as the show progresses Kantor becomes steadily more effective, and by the time he sings his final farewell to Cathy your heart breaks with his.  Credit must be given to Brown for writing Jamie – obviously an author analogue – as a real person and not a faultless saint, and Kantor’s performance makes it clear that Jamie hates himself as much as anyone for the mistakes he makes, a trait most readily illustrated during his particularly forlorn rendition of “Nobody Needs to Know.”  Kantor also transforms “The Schmuel Song,” which has always seemed overlong and unnecessary on the cast recording, into one of the most surprisingly touching moments of the show, displaying a gift for emotional clarity and a charming sensitivity that goes a long way towards explaining why Cathy puts up with Jamie’s ever-burgeoning ego.

Brown’s staging of the work is excellent, emphasizing clarity and emotional honesty over any theatrical trickery.  The amount of visual interest Brown derives from what is essential an uninterrupted succession of solos is astounding, and with each scene transition it is immediately clear both where and when the characters are in their journey.  Brown has permitted his actors to take slight liberties with the rhythm and tempo of the music, and while this may initially throw fans of the cast recording for a loop, almost every change brings with it greater illumination of the show’s lyrics and the psychological state of its characters.  Set designer Derek McLane and costumer Emily Rebholz provide minimalistic but evocative designs in purples and blues, all gorgeously lit by Jeff Croiter’s rich lighting design.

Anyone interested in The Last Five Years should run, not walk, to purchase their tickets to this deeply moving Off-Broadway revival.  This is a definitive production of Brown’s deeply personal work, representing the show as he intended it to be and executed with the utmost professionalism by all involved.  Kantor and Wolfe are promising young talents poised for great things, and this could be the last chance to see them in such an intimate setting.  Like Sondheim before him, Brown has pushed the boundaries of what the contemporary musical can be, creating an artistic triumph that demands to be seen by all.