Dear Evan Hansen review – ghoulish Ben Platt sinks high school musical

the following are two significant issues that Dear Evan Hansen, the film variation of the Tony-winning Broadway melodic, can't survive. To begin with, the choice to have Ben Platt repeat his Tony-winning execution as Evan Hansen in the film, the main unique cast part to do as such. (It appears to be pertinent to specify that Platt's dad is a maker on the film; as Platt said recently with regards to the projecting: "Were I not to do the film, it likely wouldn't get made.") It would've been one thing for the producers to have requested that crowds suspend incredulity that the 27-year-old Platt was really a quirky secondary school senior – somewhat aggravating, yet fine, as pretty much every youngster film requests that in any case (see: Rachel McAdams in Mean Girls, Jesse Metcalfe in John Tucker Must Die, both in their late 20s). However, the group behind Dear Evan Hansen put Platt in prosthetics and dark, pale cosmetics, alongside a wavy mop of hair, that strands the entertainer solidly in the uncanny valley. Yet, the endeavor to cause Platt to appear to be more youthful by one way or another renders him both more established and barbaric – a demonstration of close damage so diverting it essentially delivers the film unrecoverable. Which is a disgrace, since, supposing that a movie transformation of Dear Evan Hansen were to be made, this form, coordinated by Stephen Chbosky (The Perks of Being a Wallflower) from a screenplay by the melodic's author, Steven Levenson, would likely be, primary throwing away, one of the better forms. With Chbosky's smooth bearing, the show's winsome (whenever contracted in the film) soundtrack and a large group of A-rundown ability –  Julianne Moore, Amy Adams, Kaitlyn Dever, Amandla Stenberg – the Dear Evan Hansen film is all around a decent confidence, careful variation of the Broadway show. Which prompts the second unrealistic obstacle: a film form of Dear Evan Hansen just illuminates the story's now unstable treatment of self destruction and emotional well-being.

To backtrack: Evan Hansen is a socially awkward, paralyzingly insecure 17-year-old who starts his first day of senior year with a written pep talk to himself, an assignment from this therapist. The note is intercepted off the printer by classmate Connor Murphy (Colton Ryan), a fellow outcast who interprets the letter’s mention of his sister Zoey (Dever), Evan’s crush, as a ploy to mock him. That is Evan and Connor’s only real-life interaction; Connor takes his life and is found with the letter, which his parents interpret as a suicide note to Evan. Stammering, desperate to please and feel valued, Evan parlays the theory into a full-fledged fantasy of friendship – one that endears him to Connor’s shellshocked mother, Cynthia (Adams) and stepfather Larry (Danny Pino), draws him into a romantic relationship with Zoey, and distances him from his overworked single mother Heidi (Moore). It also brings validation, when his false invocation of Connor’s memory goes viral, and hard-charging classmate Alana (Stenberg) creates a memorial mental health awareness campaign around one of Evan’s fake anecdotes.

The distance of the stage and Benj Pasek and Justin Paul’s enveloping, genuinely moving soundtrack allowed the musical’s darker, borderline creepy elements – suggesting blame for Connor’s death, Evan’s reincarnation of Connor through forged emails, the fact that the protagonist exploits a near-stranger’s suicide for popularity – to fade into the background of a great show. One can suspend moral judgment of Evan, firmly the sympathetic underdog, when his motivations, awkwardness and mistakes are routinely swept into absorbing song. That’s much harder to do when you’re staring, in hyper-definition closeup, into the face of the grieving mother, played with paper-thin fragility by Adams, as Evan lies about his friendship with her dead son.

Still, if you can get set aside the discomfort of Evan’s deceit and Platt’s ghoulish appearance, Dear Evan Hansen is a decently enjoyable movie musical, especially if you like the soundtrack, which remains magnetic. Chbosky’s direction grounds some of the potentially tricky aspects of adapting a musical to film – characters belting while in school, or long, searching solos, such as Dever singing about her lack of feeling over Connor’s death while careening toward a red light. The roving camera and interjections for Sincerely Me drew genuine laughs, as did several of the lines delivered by Nik Dodani as Jared, Evan’s only friend (and a “family” one, at that). The set is convincingly mid-2010s suburban high school, the Murphy’s kitchen believably rich McMansion everywhere. Dever, so endearing in Booksmart and heartbreaking as a disbelieved sexual assault survivor in Unbelievable, brims with vulnerability and frustration as Zoey, the most grounded character of the film.

It’s not the film’s fault that the medium highlights the story’s inherent stacking of the deck in favor of Evan with an ickiness the musical could maybe avoid. I cannot say the same for the casting of Platt as Evan. The movie asks the audience to not look at two elephants in the room, and unfortunately, no amount of soaring music can relieve that heavy a burden.

• Dear Evan Hansen in screening at the Toronto film festival and will be released in cinemas on 24 September