Plugged in, yet all alone: All About Theatre connects with ‘Dear Evan Hansen’

We have never had more ways to connect with one another.

We text. We post. We scroll. We share the intimate details of our lives with hundreds, sometimes thousands, of people we may barely know.

And yet, surrounded by all that connection, it is still possible to feel completely alone.

That contradiction sits at the heart of “Dear Evan Hansen,” the musical about a socially awkward teenager who desperately wants to belong.

The Tony Award-winning show by Steven Levenson, with a score by Benji Pasek and Justin Paul, explores loneliness, grief, family and the sometimes dangerous distance between the lives we actually live and the ones we present to the world.

All About Theatre’s adult production, now playing at the Colligan Theater in Santa Cruz, takes on this emotionally complicated story with strong vocals, some terrific performances and a technical design that steals the show.

The story begins with a misunderstanding. Evan, an isolated high school senior, writes letters to himself as part of a therapy exercise. When troubled classmate Connor Murphy dies by suicide with one of those letters in his possession, Connor’s parents mistakenly believe Evan was their son’s best friend.

Evan knows he wasn’t.

But for a kid who has spent most of his life feeling invisible, suddenly being wanted and needed is difficult to give up. A small lie becomes an invented friendship and eventually something much larger as social media carries Evan’s story far beyond his control.

That moral messiness is what makes “Dear Evan Hansen” so compelling. Evan does something deeply wrong for reasons we can understand. His loneliness doesn’t excuse his deception, but it does make us understand how he got there.

At the performance reviewed, Zaide Rihani takes on the demanding role of Evan, capturing the awkwardness of a teenager who never seems entirely comfortable in his own skin. His lovely, soft singing voice carries a vulnerability that suits a young man who seems to spend much of his life trying not to take up too much space.

That vulnerability comes through beautifully in “Waving Through a Window,” Evan’s aching expression of what it feels like to watch life happening around him without knowing how to become part of it. Rihani doesn’t push Evan’s discomfort for effect. A tentative quality to both his singing and acting makes it easy to see how this lonely kid lets Connor’s family believe something he knows isn’t true.

The role is shared with Edie Flores, who plays Evan at alternate performances. Audiences should check All About Theatre’s website for casting dates.

Palmer Morrison brings plenty of anger and abrasiveness to Connor, quickly establishing the volatility that has alienated him from his family and classmates. Connor’s death comes early, but he remains part of the story as Evan invents an increasingly idealized version of a boy he barely knew.

That invention draws Evan into the Murphy family, including Connor’s sister Zoe, played by Molly Donahue. Donahue has striking vocals as a young woman wrestling with complicated grief. Connor made her life difficult, and his death doesn’t magically erase everything that happened while he was alive.

That conflict gives “Requiem” much of its power. Shannon Lyons and David Roberts, as Connor’s parents, join Donahue in beautiful vocal harmonies as the family struggles with very different feelings about the boy they have lost. Joined by the company, their voices soar as the screens behind them fill with flickering candles. It’s a beautiful moment, both musically and visually.

Dramatically, however, Lyons and Roberts are less convincing. Their acting remains too much on the surface. Their grief rarely reaches us, weakening scenes that should pack a much greater emotional punch.

As Evan becomes increasingly entangled with the Murphys, his own mother is being pushed farther away. Lauren Chouinard brings a strong voice and warmth to Heidi, a single mother juggling work, school and raising a son she loves deeply without realizing just how isolated he has become. Chouinard’s finest moment comes late in the second act with “So Big/So Small.” As Heidi finally reaches for the son she hasn’t realized was slipping away from her, Chouinard lets the song build without overselling it. By the end, everything else falls away. It’s simply a mother telling her child she isn’t going anywhere.

Sophie Henrard’s ambitious Alana and Vinny Fortunato’s wisecracking Jared shine in more than a few scenes, providing much-needed humor as Evan’s increasingly complicated story threatens to overwhelm him. Both know how to land a line, and the production perks up whenever they’re onstage.

But the real showstopper is the technology.

Video designer Peter Chester, working with technical directors Russell Smith and Tom Pepper, takes the idea of being “plugged in” to another level. Fourteen video screens flank the stage, complemented by large-scale projections across the upstage wall. Text messages appear, social-media posts multiply and locations materialize around the actors.

It is marvelous to behold on a Santa Cruz stage. More importantly, it isn’t technology for technology’s sake. It helps tell the story.

The stage floor, painted with circuit-board patterns and geometric shapes, extends that digital landscape beneath the actors’ feet, while ensemble members frequently appear with their faces illuminated by glowing phones. As Evan’s lie grows, messages multiply and screens fill until the boy who once couldn’t get anyone to notice him is suddenly surrounded by voices.

Lyndsey Gould’s beautifully suggestive lighting complements that world without competing with it, while director Darren Jackson-Wilkins’ sound design includes some particularly clever touches. A scene in the school gymnasium carries the hollow echo and slight microphone distortion of an actual student assembly. It’s a small detail, but an effective one.

Music director Mazera Cox-Goulter conducts an excellent six-piece band from the keyboards. The musicians are tight throughout, giving Pasek and Paul’s contemporary score the drive and sensitivity it needs.

The production falters in its physical staging.

Jackson-Wilkins clearly has a vision for the show, but greater attention to the actors’ physicality would strengthen it considerably. Too often, particularly during musical numbers, the leads stand almost motionless with their arms at their sides, seemingly unsure what to do with their bodies. By the second act, one number after another staged with so little movement begins to slow the momentum.

That criticism comes with important context. All About Theatre has long provided a place for young developing artists to learn their craft, take chances, and gain valuable experience. Everyone on this stage is clearly giving it their all and there is something wonderful about watching performers stretch themselves with material this demanding. But developing artists also need room to grow, and greater attention to physical storytelling would make this already ambitious production considerably stronger.

Perhaps the production’s most lasting image is also its simplest: a stage filled with people staring into illuminated phones, an entire world glowing in the palms of their hands.

And standing among them is a boy who wants just one person to truly see him.

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