Don't Miss: Last Chances To See Bay Street Theater's 'Dear Evan Hansen', A Transcendent Performance

SAG HARBOR, NY — There are certain shows that shine a light straight into the heart of all that's real and true and important.

Such is the case with "Dear Evan Hansen," a musical which opened on Broadway in 2016, featuring music and lyrics by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, and a book by Steven Levenson.

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And this season, a decade later, Bay Street Theater has staged perhaps the most meaningful production of "Dear Evan Hansen" that audiences might ever witness.

"Winner of six Tony Awards, including Best Musical, 'Dear Evan Hansen' is a deeply moving story about high school students and their parents searching for connection, understanding, and a sense of belonging," a description of the show read.

Directed by Bay Street Theater Artistic Director Scott Schwartz, the powerful production brings audiences closer to the story than ever before on Bay Street's intimate stage — watching every emotion, every nuanced expression, flicker across actors' faces as they present a show rich with meaning and a message more needed than ever for teens navigating today's often rocky social media terrain.

At the heart of "Dear Evan Hansen" is the simple truth: Everyone, at their core, wants to fit in — to belong. And nowhere is that yearning more apparent than on the high school canvas, where cliques and "mean girls," popular jocks and diminutive divas have long made those who linger on the fringes feel less than wanted.

From the first moment that Kenny Lee steps onto the stage as Evan Hansen, he embodies the character in a way that leaves his expressions, his voice, his aching heart, forever seared into collective memories.

Yes, some controversy erupted when "Dear Evan Hansen" was first staged in past years, with some critics asking how audiences could embrace a character who embarks upon a campaign of deception, pretending to have been a dear and beloved friend of fellow student, Connor Murphy, who has died tragically.

In a Shakespeare-worthy mixup involving a letter found in their son's pocket after his demise, Connor's family comes to believe that the letter — rather than one Evan has written to himself, following an assignment by a therapist — is instead a letter to their beloved boy. Written by the best friend they'd never known he had — and always prayed he'd find.

And in that new, supposed truth, they cling desperately to the hope that their son had a life not shaped only by despair — but marked with some glimmers of abject joy, found in apple orchards and in conversations with the one other person on earth who miraculously understood him.

Evan, while he tries to convey the truth at first, in time, it's all too easy to go along with a lie that gathers steam more quickly than a proverbial freight train, fueled by the breathtaking sheer force of the internet and social media.

What ensues is at times a tragedy, sometimes, a comedy, but always, it's a cautionary tale — reminding us that social media and the internet are no substitute for face-to-face talks with impressionable teens eager to find their place in an often tumultuous and shifting world.

What makes this "Evan Hansen" shine is an ephemeral mix of raw talent, heartfelt direction, and a score that simply soars. For a brief moment in time, this cast, this director, this crew, this company — during a run that will forever never be long enough; it's that good — has captured the heart and soul of a show that shatters through walls and tears down social constraints, cutting to the essence of what it is, that matters.

Lee, as Evan Hansen, delivers a tour de force performance. Studying his facial expressions is a master class in acting. No decision comes easily, no choice is without consequence. As we watch Lee's Evan, we are all back in high school, hoping to be one of the kids at the popular table at lunch, praying to meet the boy or girl and win their heart. Aching to be normal. To fit in. And always, above all, to be loved. To be seen — and found.

Erik Houck, as Connor, delivers a performance etched in equal parts explosive anger and raw pain — and yet, his moments of wisecracking wit, and the bond that develops as he appears in Evan's imagination, show that, had he lived, he and Evan just might have been the true friends all believed them to be. In their singular feelings of isolation, they might have found common ground and connection.

And in that reality, there is the agonizing pain of endings that come far too soon — a realization that shines a light on the ever-escalating need for mental health services and intervention for teens today.

Olivia Fought as Zoe Murphy, Connor's sister and the girl of Evan's adolescent dreams, grabs on to the role with both hands, bringing the audience along for the full gamut of emotions she experiences as Evan's lie unfolds. First, there is disbelief, but slowly, her broken heart cracks, a hairline fracture that lets a bit of light and hope in, as she allows herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything she has always known her brother to be, might not be all there was. Her plaintive cry to be seen, not in her brother's shadow , but as a young woman falling in love in her own right.

Maya Days as Heidi Hansen delivers one of the most powerful performances in the show. A busy working mom, who all too often forgets Taco Tuesday in the frenzy of a hardscrabble existence but, on the flip side, flurries her son's room with college scholarship applications, is a portrait of every mother who's ever sacrificed everything, to make a better life for her boy.

Hansen, in the song "So Big, So Small," has the audience in tears. Here is a mother who, despite all that's unfolded, despite the betrayal of a father who packed up his belongings in a U-Haul and drove away, despite financial terror and the pain of seeing her son slipping away — never wavers from her fierce love. Never leaves her son — and never will. And in that revelation, in the power of love and hope and a new tomorrow, the message that is at the core of "Dear Evan Hansen," shines strong and true. With his mother's love enveloping him, a new future can be forged.

Heather Ayers as Cynthia Murphy, and Gil Brady, as Larry Murphy, Connor's parents, convey the raw agony of loss with masterful performances. Amaya White, as Alana Beck, gives honest insight into a character whose mission is shaped, too, by knowing all too well what it's like to be left on the outside, looking in — "Waving Through A Window."

And Josh Hoyt as Jared Kleinmann owns the role — at times, downright unlikable in his sarcasm, at others, outrageously funny, and in the end, another wounded teen masking deep-seated feelings of insecurity with bravado and bluster.

With choreography by Marcos Santana, musical direction by Cole Abod, scenic design by Christopher and Justin Swader — including large screens that project social media messages and voices —costume design by Leslie Bernstein, lighting design by Charlie Morrison, sound design by Stephen Jensen, projection design by Camilla Tassi, production/stage managment by Arthur Atkinson, Nicole Caroselli as assistant stage manager, Kendall Jennings as non-AEA assistant stage manager, and Executive Director Tracy Mitchell, "Dear Evan Hansen" is a must-see this season at Bay Street.

The show's compelling message, detailing how social media can influence, blur the lines between truth and reality, and lead to isolation and despair, is a rallying cry that needs to be heard — with conversations with teens critical toward guiding them toward new, healthy futures.

At its core, "Dear Evan Hansen" is a story about the enduring power of love — and the possibility of hope, even in the darkest of hours.

Don't miss this show.

"Dear Evan Hansen" runs August 29 at Bay Street Theater in Sag Harbor. with tickets remaining for August 27 at 7 p.m., August 28 at 8 p.m. and August 29 at 2 p.m. For additional information and to buy tickets, click here.