Dear Evan Hansen (2021)

Dear Evan Hansen aims straight for the tender bruises of adolescence—loneliness, longing, and the desperate wish to be seen—and it does so with an unabashedly emotional, tear-jerking sincerity that can feel almost cathartic. Stephen Chbosky gives the story a gentle, intimate tone, letting the performances do the heavy lifting as Ben Platt plays Evan with raw vulnerability and Amy Adams brings a quiet ache that lingers long after a scene ends. The film’s stage-to-screen translation is smoother than skeptics might expect, using close-ups and small moments to make its big feelings feel personal rather than theatrical. It isn’t for everyone—its premise can be uncomfortable and it leans into melodrama—but if you’re open to a drama that wrestles with grief, mental health, and the consequences of being human, it’s hard not to be moved.

Dear Evan Hansen is clearly aiming for a sincere, big-hearted drama about loneliness, mental health, and how badly people want to feel seen, and you can feel the stage-musical bones trying to deliver those emotional crescendos. The problem is the film version makes the central lie harder to accept as anything but deeply uncomfortable, and the adaptation often feels awkward and overlong rather than urgent. Ben Platt can absolutely sing and commit, but the casting choice (especially playing a high-schooler on camera) can pull you out of the story, which doesn’t help when you need to buy into Evan’s situation. If you’re sensitive to stories that use suicide and grief as fuel for a protagonist’s rise-and-fall arc, or you want a more grounded, authentic teen drama, this may just irritate you more than it moves you—though a few performances and musical moments do land if you’re already a fan of the show.