One warm Sunday morning at 5:00 a.m., myself and my friends rode the subway to Midtown Manhattan, in order to get tickets for Pasek & Paul’s new musical, “Dear Evan Hansen.” After sitting on the concrete for six hours, amusing ourselves by taking naps, talking about musicals, and making friends with the people around us, we finally got tickets. They were standing room tickets, meaning that we would be standing behind the orchestra section for the duration of the show. I cannot say enough how worth it the six hours of sitting on a curb and two and a half hours of standing were.
The show, without spoiling anything, centers around Evan Hansen, a high school senior who struggles with anxiety and just being a high school senior. This show is an unspeakably beautiful piece of art. The set and lighting are unique and relevant to modern life. The music is refreshing and original. The cast is absolutely incredible. But from my point of view, the thing that stuck out the best was the way Ben Platt portrayed his character’s anxiety. His acting — and the way his character was written — was almost too real. As someone who suffers from anxiety, it was like seeing the deepest, hardest-to-explain-parts of myself right in front of me onstage.
I started crying approximately 10 minutes into the show, and only stopped for a few select musical numbers. There was one point in the second act that I was almost unable to breathe because I was quiet-sobbing so hard. (I’d like to insert an apology here to the people around me, I hope my sniffling and occasional audible sobs weren’t too disruptive).
It’s difficult to watch someone struggle with something that you’ve spent so long struggling with. Watching Evan find difficulty in everyday social situations was heart-breaking. Evan’s anxiety was so realistic that I found myself having flashbacks to moments in my own life where I had written the own words to myself, thought the same thoughts, and had the same conversations with my friends and parents. The combination of Platt’s remarkable performance and the heart-rending book and music is the most accurate artistic portrayal of anxiety that I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing.
I was exhausted, emotionally concussed, and possibly dehydrated from all the crying after the show, but I don’t think I’ve ever left a theatre feeling so at home in my own mind. I had felt shattered during the performance, but somehow it made me feel more put together. Seeing that other people were struggling the same way I was, that the calamities plaguing my brain and my life weren’t just happening to me. The feelings that make me feel so isolated so often aren’t unique to me. It was beautiful seeing something that’s labelled as a disease and a liability turned into a piece of art that could touch the lives of so many people, myself included. Next time, I would probably opt for less eye makeup, though.
