Casting “Dear Evan Hansen” in Community Theatre and Schools

by Chris Peterson

Now that Dear Evan Hansen is officially available for community theatres and schools, it feels like the beginning of a whole new life for the show.

Broadway runs end, national tours close, and casts move on, but what happens next is always my favorite part. Scripts find their way onto library shelves and stage managers’ desks and high school auditorium floors.

One of the first things worth saying clearly is that there are no casting requirements outlined in the show’s licensing materials. No character is tied to a specific race or ethnicity. That silence is an opportunity, and it is one we should embrace with intention.

Too often, community theatres default to the casts they have always had rather than the casts they could seek. I want to encourage directors, producers, educators, and anyone else planning a production to take a breath and consider what representation could do for this story. Not because it is trendy or expected, but because the material leaves space for it, and because new voices will deepen the emotional reach.

Imagine a Murphy family that doesn’t all look the same. Perhaps Zoe and Connor are adopted, or perhaps this is a blended family with layers and dynamics that feel modern and real. Maybe Cynthia is Latina. Maybe Heidi is Asian American. Maybe Alana is Black and visually carries the pressure of excellence on her shoulders. None of these choices change the text or the music, but they shift the context in small, powerful ways.

Suddenly the line between belonging and isolation becomes sharper. Suddenly Evan’s belief that he is on the outside looking in hits differently, depending on who stands beside him at school lunches and onstage in prayer vigils. Diversity doesn’t just check a box. It transforms meaning.

And then there is Evan himself. If any role calls for thoughtful casting, it is his. So much of the show depends on the audience believing him, rooting for him, even while watching him make choices that hurt people.

The actor playing Evan will carry anxiety like a coat that never comes off. He needs to tremble without exaggeration and speak through tight breath without turning it into parody.

We often talk about casting by voice type or age range or energy, but in this case, authenticity matters more than volume. You need someone who can break open onstage, who looks like they’re trying to survive the weight of their own brain. Someone who understands what it means to want so badly to be okay.

When you find the right Evan, the story blooms. When you surround him with a cast that reflects real communities and diverse lived experiences, the show becomes something more than a Broadway favorite brought to a smaller stage. It becomes a mirror. Not just for teenagers dealing with anxiety but for anyone who has ever felt alone in a crowded room.

Maybe that’s the beauty of this licensing release. For the first time, thousands of young people will get to learn these harmonies, stumble through this story, tape up those casts, and write those letters. They’ll breathe new life into a show that meant so much to so many of us. And if we cast it thoughtfully, if we let it represent the world we live in instead of the one we default to, then Dear Evan Hansen might reach people it never has before.

This show was built to break you open and then stitch you back together slowly. Now the thread is in our hands. The story belongs to everyone. Let’s cast it that way.