The Manila cast of the Tony Award-winning musical shares insights into its characters and why its story still speaks to audiences everywhere.
Warning: This piece explores certain elements of Dear Evan Hansen that may contain spoilers for those who’ve never viewed it.
When Dear Evan Hansen premiered at the Arena Stage in Washington, D.C. in 2015—and on Broadway the following year—it quickly cemented its place in the modern musical canon. With six Tony Awards, an Olivier Award for Best Musical, and a Grammy for Best Musical Theater Album, its impact was undeniable. Exiting The Theatre at Solaire during the gala night of its 2025 Manila run (helmed by GMG Productions), I could see its appeal hasn’t waned. Some audience members emerged glassy-eyed, others animatedly dissected what they had just witnessed, while a few lingered in moments of quiet contemplation. The reactions varied, but the spell was the same: this story still grips.
In this exclusive feature, Lifestyle Asia goes backstage with the cast of the Manila run, who weave their experiences in the musical with reflections on its enduring appeal.
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Dear Evan Hansen
Our titular character is a jittery young man in a constant state of anxiety—unable to speak comfortably to others, yet yearning for connection and belonging. He has virtually no friends; his well-meaning single mother is almost always occupied with work; and he’s mortified by his failed attempts to talk to his crush, Zoe Murphy.
At his therapist’s urging, Evan begins writing letters to himself—positive affirmations meant to quiet his noisy thoughts. “Dear Evan Hansen, today is going to be an amazing day and here’s why,” he repeats, struggling to convince himself. But Zoe’s troubled brother, Connor Murphy, only adds to his burden. In one scene, he shoves Evan against a locker, his anger boiling over. Despite their conflict, the boys are alike: isolated, misunderstood, and unable to voice their inner turmoil.
Their paths intertwine after the musical’s inciting incident: Connor takes his own life, and the only thing found in his possession is Evan’s therapy letter, snatched earlier in a fit of rage. Suddenly, it appears the two had been best friends, a comforting illusion Connor’s grieving family—especially his mother Cynthia—holds onto.
Evan faces a choice: tell the truth, or let the misunderstanding stand. He chooses the latter, convincing himself it’s what everyone, including him, needs. For a while, life seems brighter: he bonds with the Murphy family, grows closer to Zoe, and becomes a figure of admiration at school after launching “The Connor Project,” a campaign to honor Connor’s memory.
But as the adage goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. What begins as a white lie soon spirals into a web of falsehoods that are impossible to sustain, culminating in the musical’s wrenching denouement.
The Boy Who’s Waving Through A Window
Actor Ellis Kirk plays Evan with a candidness that morphs him into an insecure high school boy just trying to find his place in the world—an accomplishment honed from his experience in the Dear Evan Hansen West End run.
“I did a lot of research into anxiety, into the kind of pills he would be on, which is referenced a couple of times,” he shares. “I think about how I feel when I’m awkward, as opposed to thinking ‘What do people do when they’re awkward?’ Because then I think it comes across as truthful, instead of a caricature—that’s quite important if you want people to relate [to the character].”
As for what parts of himself he channels through Evan, Kirk chuckles and mentions truthfulness. “I think, ironically, he’s quite an honest person inside. He’s such an open book in that he’s honest with himself, and I find it so admirable—it’s something I also try to do as much as I can, like if I ever make mistakes, I just try to be honest about that.” He adds, “The overwhelm, too. I definitely get overwhelmed; it’s something I deal with in day-to-day life. And I think it’s quite nice for audience members to see that, to know it’s not just them.”
To Kirk, Evan’s choices stem from a place of care, even if they have repercussions. “I think it’s so important to not play the selfish side of it—to just play the fact that he wants to help these people, this family. He sees how broken they are, how they’re quite scarily on the edge. And he’s 17: he’s never seen this before, he’s never seen real grief like this. Subconsciously, yes, he actually did need it as well; he loved it. But the conscious part of it is he wants to help them—he’s doing it for them.”
When asked what lines linger with him, Kirk replies with tender solemnity: “‘No, I’d rather pretend I’m something better than these broken parts.’ I think that sums up Evan and how he feels in almost every situation. He feels like he just doesn’t belong—whereas that’s actually one of the sweetest parts of him. Then there’s ‘I’ve learned to slam on the brake/Before I even turn the key’: I think tons of people, in any situation—not just people involved in theater or those that struggle with anxiety—will say they definitely do that. They don’t try something because they’re scared of the outcome. And the lyrics to ‘You Will Be Found’ are beautiful too, so poetic.”
So Big, So Small: Heidi Hansen
Dear Evan Hansen may be a high school drama, but it’s also a tale of two families who, despite vastly different lifestyles, both struggle with connection.
Evan’s mother Heidi, played by Rebecca McKinnis, clearly loves her son—after all, they’re all they’ve got with Evan’s father out of the picture. But being a single mother isn’t easy; her effort to make ends meet results in a relationship that feels at once close and distant. Some of the musical’s most powerful moments are those when a mother tries to break through the emotional walls built by circumstance.
“As a mother, you’re kind of expected to be there for your children, and when you’re not able to, it’s really hard not to feel guilty about that,” McKinnis shares. “I think Heidi must feel proud that she’s done it on her own; she’s managed. But as we hear from her song [‘So Big/So Small’], she was absolutely devastated when her husband left. She’s made it work, she’s given Evan things that he’s needed; however, it meant that she’s not able to be as present.”
Audiences can’t overlook Heidi’s socioeconomic status—it’s a crucial part of her and Evan’s arc. Her son yearns for the attention of Connor’s mother Cynthia, who can afford to be present because of her husband’s financial stability. “But then, you know, the Murphy family hasn’t got it great either,” McKinnis points out.
The actress relates to Heidi’s difficulties, being a single mother herself who’s often on tour. With a teenage daughter, the experiences of the young characters become even more resonant. She recalls a line Heidi tells Evan during a confrontation: “‘I didn’t know that you were hurting like that […] I should have known. How could I not know?’ I really feel it when I say that now, I know that she means it. That’s the most poignant line in the show for me.”
McKinnis says it was easy to channel her maternal instincts when fostering rapport with co-star Ellis Kirk. “We did Evan Hansen in the West End, so we played it together before we started this job, where he was an understudy. But this time around, it’s been amazing. We’ve really solidified our relationship. He’s a wonderful human being, and it’s very easy to love him, as Evan and as a person.”
A Family’s Loss
Dear Evan Hansen also finds its soul in the Murphy family: parents Cynthia (Helen Anker) and Larry (Hal Fowler), and their children Zoe (Zoe Athena) and Connor (Rhys Hopkins). Their dysfunction is never sugarcoated; from the outset, it’s clear that Connor’s troubled behavior both stems from and feeds into the family’s underlying tensions.
Holding Onto Hope: Cynthia and Larry Murphy
Cynthia and Larry are often at odds, even in the aftermath of their son’s death. The two grieve differently, creating an emotional push and pull that adds nuance. “Cynthia definitely shows her emotions a hell of a lot more than Larry. I think she’s very open with how she feels and shows it, but obviously they’re both devastated with what’s happened,” Helen Anker explains.
“I think Larry responds to the situation by retreating into pragmatism and order and work,” Hal Fowler adds. “And probably thinks that showing his emotions would be a sign of weakness.”
Portraying such heavy roles requires balance. “It’s imagining how that would feel, being as truthful as we possibly can without hamming it up. It’s a hard line to tread. You don’t want to overdo it, but you don’t want to underplay it,” Anker says.
“It has to be sustainable. You can’t just throw yourself at the wall every night emotionally. But one of the joys of working in theater—we’re here for five weeks—is that each night, you can explore a different avenue and see how that lands,” Fowler shares. “Ultimately, as an actor, it doesn’t matter how you feel—it’s what the audience feels that matters. We want to give a colorful, honest view: grief will mean many things to many people.”
For Fowler, subtlety makes Larry’s grief resonate: “Every now and again, you can have just a little waver in the voice. It says more than anything else. You don’t need to do much else, it’s just about the tiny details.”
Despite Evan’s stories being fabrications, the actors reflect on what his presence gave Connor’s parents. “From what we know, Connor was a very unhappy boy, and for Evan to tell us that he was actually happy and he had a friend is the most wonderful, wonderful news,” Anker says. “We imagined that he couldn’t work out anything in his life, but we’re now being told by his supposed friend that he was happy, he was funny, and he had a great time. It’s a lie, but for a mum to hear that Connor was a better person than she thought he was, well, it’s amazing.”
“Evan gives Larry and Cynthia the one thing that they can’t give to each other, which is hope and the courage to move forward,” Fowler adds. “He enables a space where they can communicate; otherwise, I think they would probably just drown in their grief. It would be an unhappy end for them.”
Sincerely, Me: Connor Murphy
Connor Murphy is a character shrouded in mystery. In life, he only has a few minutes of stage time—for most of the musical, he’s a figment of Evan’s imagination, a specter reflecting his conscience. We see him mainly through the eyes of others: what they think he was, and who they wish he could have been.
“It definitely was a challenge [to play Connor], in a sense that it feels like two different roles,” shares actor Rhys Hopkins. “The Connor that we see in the first four scenes is completely different from who we see in ‘Sincerely, Me’ forward. It was nice to make sure that the first version of him is this fully-realized character, so what you see later on has this freedom to be more caricaturistic.”
Hopkins recalls one moment that hints at the “real” Connor: when he signs Evan’s cast. “He’s represented as someone who’s very troubled and misunderstood, this inherently angry person. But you forget sometimes that he’s still a human being who’s capable of empathy,” he says. “Connor has an interaction with Evan that’s a bit violent, and then when he sees him again, he’s a little bit less intense. And I think that’s the moment where you see him kind of backtrack, and in his own way, apologize and take ownership for what he had done before.”
Regardless of what’s real or imagined, Connor never truly disappears, and he becomes a source of light for everyone—not just his family. “There’s this one line he says: ‘If you can somehow keep them thinking of me/And make me more than an abandoned memory/Well that means we matter too/It means someone will see that you are there.’ It’s my favorite. It’s an interpretation of Connor, but it’s also about being remembered, which is kind of a big message in the show,” Hopkins adds.
No Requiem: Zoe Murphy
More than Evan’s love interest, Zoe is an atypical sister figure: her relationship with Connor was so fraught that the care she held for him seemed invisible, even buried. “Why should I play the grieving girl and lie/Saying that I miss you/And that my world has gone dark without your light?” sings actress Zoë Athena in Requiem.
“I feel like Zoe is pretty much a manifestation of the anger stage of grief,” Athena shares. “I think she’s got a lot of conflicting feelings about this person who was causing hardships in her life, who left everyone in this state of hurt.” Yet turbulent as their relationship was, Zoe’s anger is still a sign of care, proof that her brother meant something to her.
The actress is no stranger to loss, having experienced it firsthand with a close friend. “When someone passes away quite suddenly, you don’t fully understand what’s happened, and you’re in that stage of disbelief. And for her, it’s also this idea that people are glossing over what really went on. All she needs at this moment is to sit down with her parents, and for them to acknowledge that what they went through was really difficult, that he was a difficult presence in the house, but it’s sad that he’s not there.”
Zoe’s relationship with Evan changes them both. She reminds him that he’s worthy of love, and he shows her she doesn’t have to face grief alone. “He gave everyone in that family what they really needed, which was for them to all come together and look out for each other in a way they hadn’t before. If he hadn’t come into their lives, her parents probably would’ve kept fighting and then split up; she’d have a very difficult, traumatic family situation.”
Athena continues: “I think that’s also very resonant with first love, you know, especially when you’re a teenager. It sets up the foundations for how you’re going to be in future relationships.”
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You Will Be Found
One hallmark of a culturally significant musical is endurance. Times may change, but the story holds weight because it speaks to unvarnished truths—sometimes hopeful and inspiring, sometimes unsettling and painful, and often somewhere in between. Dear Evan Hansen reminds us of the theater’s ability to hold up a mirror to audiences, prompting them to reconnect with themselves, the world, and life at large. Beyond its focus on mental health, the musical lingers because it reflects a truth we all carry: the yearning to be seen, understood, and remembered, each of our fractured pieces catching the light.
Photography by Kieran Punay of KLIQ, Inc.
