Ben Platt, left, and Nik Dodani in a scene from "Dear Evan Hansen" (2021).

In the annals of bad choices, “Dear Evan Hansen” may not top the list, but it certainly tries.

The adaptation of the Tony-winning Broadway musical takes Steven Levenson’s script (who also wrote the screenplay for the film) along with Benj Pasek and Justin Paul’s music, and attempts to make it palatable for the silver screen. One problem arises from bringing back Ben Platt to star as the titular character, a high school senior. Questions of nepotism aside (Platt’s father, Marc, produced the film) Ben Platt is in his late 20s, and while casting older actors as high schoolers is nothing new, and the cast is made up of 20-somethings, it typically goes by largely unnoticed (Nik Dodani who plays Jared is only a couple of months younger than Platt in real life).

But for some reason, the production decided to try and make Platt look younger with the help of smoothing makeup and prosthetics, which create an uncanny valley effect that sticks out like Steve Buscemi infiltrating a high school in that episode of “30 Rock.” Add into that the fact that director Stephen Chbosky seemed really fond of extreme closeups of Platt’s face — and the actor’s consistently nebbish personification topped with a mop of a hairdo — and it just feels weird throughout, something you can never shake.

Then, of course, there’s the plot itself, and whoa boy, is it a doozy.

The basic premise of the musical is this: Evan Hansen (Platt) suffers from extreme anxiety and depression and as an assignment from his therapist is tasked with writing letters to himself to help boost his confidence, ensuring that “today is going to be a good day and here’s why.” On the first day of school, he writes said letter when another student, the persistently angry Connor Murphy (Colton Ryan) finds it and pockets it while berating Evan for writing about his sister, Zoe (Kaitlyn Dever).

A few days later it is revealed that Connor died by suicide and all that was found on him was the note, which has been misattributed as Connor’s last words to Evan.

Struck by Connor’s parents’ (played by the weepy Amy Adams and Danny Pino) grief and his sister Zoe’s anger, Evan decides to lie and say he and Connor were best friends, concocting fake emails and scenarios between the two of them, gaining the family’s trust and love, Zoe’s own affections and notoriety from his classmates and beyond.

Here’s the biggest issue I have with this story: the film’s depiction and treatment of the topic of suicide. It treats Connor’s death as a side note to Evan’s own coming-of-age story.

Instead of delving into the humanity of the person who ended his own life, his family goes so far as to call him a monster and that they “will sing no requiem” for him. The film doesn’t see him for more than the problems that stemmed from his state of mental health or what lay on the surface. The film uses the worst kind of stereotypes: from Connor being costumed in all black, complete with fresh nail polish, and even going so far as to include the highly offensive “school shooter chic” for his appearance and nonchalantly calling him a “psycho.”

The movie opts instead for a jaunty number where Evan and Connor traipse around being best buds as they recite the faux letters Evan composes. This is done after Connor is dead, and it feels incredibly tone-deaf. To top it all off, and be warned, this is a spoiler, Evan never really gets his comeuppance or suffers any real consequences for what he did — which might be the most infuriating thing about this.

Besides all that, the movie is just boring. For a musical, there are shockingly long stretches of time where there is no music and the majority of numbers are just people sitting around singing to themselves, which may be interesting to see on stage, but on film, leaves much to be desired.

The music itself is generally good. It’s catchy and there are some tenderer lyrics to latch on to, but when viewed with the entire production, everything feels very disingenuous, offensive and poorly attempted.

“Dear Evan Hansen”

137 minutes

Rated PG-13 for thematic material involving suicide, brief strong language and some suggestive references

1.5 stars