Theater: an overrated Hamilton fails to deliver
Hamilton
Book, Music, and Lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda
The Private Bank Theater, Chicago IL
September 7, 2017
Directed by Thomas Kail
Starring Miguel Cervantes, Gregory Treco, Ari Afsar, Jonathan Kirkland, and Chris De’Sean Lee
It's fair to say that Hamilton is quickly asserting itself as the most important musical of our time. Miranda's revolutionary musical gets people thinking about race, history, and theater in ways they're probably not used to.
-Chris Weller, Business Insider
The hip-hop musical Hamilton won multiple Tony Awards in 2016 and has been lauded as a brilliant, transformative, entirely original masterpiece by many theater critics. I finally caught up to it in Chicago, where it has played for the past year. Tickets there are about ½ the $400-700 price on Broadway, and could actually be obtained the week of the show. Despite the palpable excitement and anticipation in the theater, the show failed to deliver a clear point of view, compelling music, an accurate historical picture, or even interesting theater. The Emperor has no clothes; actually, some nudity might have enlivened things.
In temperament, [the characters are] a lot closer to the real men who inspired this show than the stately figures of high school history books. Before they were founding fathers, these guys were rebellious sons, moving to a new, fierce, liberating beat that never seemed to let up. Hamilton makes us feel the unstoppable, urgent rhythm of a nation being born.
-Ben Brantley, NY Times
Hamilton is a sort of bio-musical that follows the career of Alexander Hamilton, from his roots as an poor immigrant from St. Croix, to his serving in Washington’s army, to his seminal role as Federalist leader, cabinet member and founder of the centralized US economic system. His life ended early after being fatally shot by Aaron Burr in one of those pistol duels then in fashion among offended aristocrats. The musical portrays many of the founding “fathers” (women are mostly wives and supporters here, not so revolutionary) in hip-hip guise, played entirely by actors of color. This, and the use of rap lyrics/music stamped it as both a way to connect young people with American history, and as a sort of allegory, in which the radical young 1770s revolutionaries were the hip hop rebels of their time. Were they? As Howard Zinn points out in his A People’s History of the United States, the American revolution was largely a revolt led by landowning aristocrats desirous of maintaining economic control independent of British taxation. The Declaration of Independence’ famous advocacy for “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” was derived by Jefferson from the Virginia Declaration of Rights, which sought “…the enjoyment of life and liberty, with the means of acquiring and possessing property, and pursuing and obtaining happiness and safety.” To our founding fathers “happiness” was not the 2017 concept of unlimited kale shakes and long vacations, but instead prosperity, thriving, well-being. Our founders did not trust the common people to lead, resulting in the indirect election of president (Electoral College) and of senators (by legislatures). Hamilton himself was particularly adamant, seeking the establishment of lifetime presidential and senate appointments, because:
All communities divide themselves into the few and the many…the rich and well-born, and the mass of the people. The people are turbulent and changing; they seldom judge or determine right. Give therefore to the first class a distinct permanent share in the government.
While there were certainly conflicts among these founders, most famously regarding Jefferson’s preference for agrarian rural leadership vs. the Federalists’ urban manufacturing bias, this was still mostly an argument about which economic faction should hold the power. Here is an example of this argument as portrayed in Hamilton rap:
JEFFERSON:
If New York’s in debt—
Why should Virginia bear it?
Huh! Our debts are paid, I’m afraid.
Don’t tax the South cuz we got it made in the shade.
In Virginia, we plant seeds in the ground.
We create. You just wanna move our money around.
HAMILTON:
A civics lesson from a slaver. Hey neighbor.
Your debts are paid cuz you don’t pay for labor.
“We plant seeds in the South. We create.” Yeah, keep ranting.
We know who’s really doing the planting.
And another thing, Mr. Age of Enlightenment
Don’t lecture me about the war; you didn’t fight in it.
A conflict, sure, but hardly the stuff of wild eyed rebellion. More like a debate in Econ 101. The musical chooses Alexander Hamilton as its lead, presumably due to his out-of-wedlock fatherless upbringing in the Caribbean, early poverty, then meteoric rise after arrival in the colonies. He is therefore a metaphor for the idealized immigrant experience, a tonic to recent immigrant-baiting. But his rise and entry to Colombia University law school was facilitated by wealthy patrons, and he quickly became an economic conservative and advocate for centralization of financial control (he founded the first Bank of the United States). Hamilton’s desire to show the founders as the hip-hop rebels of their era is therefore curious and not quite true:
HAMILTON:
Hey, yo, I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry, and I am not throwing away my shot.
His rival Jefferson, portrayed here as an out-there, ditsy Frenchy-style radical (the same actor plays Lafayette), was in fact an intellectual, analytic, idealistic pedant, and a wealthy slaveholder to boot. True, the US revolution the first enduring non-monarchic western state, but it was firmly based on economic control of the few. This of course remains a huge challenge today, with income disparity and disproportionate control of the electoral system by large money donors. So is this really the American history we seek to present to our kids? It seems to me just as idealized as George Washington chopping down his cherry tree, just in a different way.
There’s an earnestness to Hamilton that is impossible to resist. While the fake debates of an overlong election season foul the airwaves, it’s a relief to find, at least in the theater, some sincere and energetic grappling with the character of our country.
-Alisa Solomon, The Nation
Nearly every review focuses on Hamilton’s importance as a historical, social, or educational document. But as I have argued about most contemporary art, such works should not be judged simply as sociological vehicles, but for their artistic value and enduring timelessness. There is relatively little space devoted to criticism of Hamilton as an artistic work. Is it a good musical? I think not. Even given my relative disinterest in rap music, I occasionally admire its edge, anger, and outrageousness. Hamilton’s lauded rap lyrics, while clever (see above), have none of this. I burst out laughing at one point as Hamilton rapped about managing bank interest rates--not exactly Straight Outta Compton. Overall the rap did not seem well connected to the history, and the rap presented was tame and lacked anger and outrage. You can get a general sense of it in this Tony Award excerpt. Nor is Hamilton exclusively rap. Rap is delivered mostly by the male leads, while their wives more often sing tepid ballads in the style of Les Miserables. Was this sexism intentional, or just a recognition that rap is limited in its emotional compass, therefore not ideal for a 2 hour musical? This leads to my main artistic critique. I did not have an experience of “energetic grappling” as the above reviewer did. I mostly sat for two hours uninvolved, waiting for some original or compelling music to emerge. There were a couple of couple of amusing numbers by King George III (Alexander Gemignani), the only white actor in the cast (white establishment, rebels of color, get it?) done in a Brit glamour-rock style that made many in the audience double over in laughter (I was mildly amused, at least). But overall, there was not much compelling music on display, very problematic for a through-sung musical. Nor was there much tension or interest in the book, consisting of a series of chronological vignettes from Hamilton’s life. Even the climactic duel with Burr lacked tension, perhaps because the rationale for it (arcane New York state politics) was neither part of the main narrative, nor foreshadowed effectively in earlier events. None of the characters transcended a comic book stereotype, so none built real sympathy or antipathy. The hop-hop choreography was decent, but no better than what you can see on any music video. The actors dressed in period costumes, but the set had the look of an urban warehouse. Such stylistic mixture can be compelling, but had no real unifying concept here. Overall it felt like the creators spent all their time on rap lyrics-meets-colonial economics, and had less energy left over for the other critical elements of a good musical.
On exiting the theater, a middle aged white guy asked me what I thought. I shared some of the above, and that I was mostly indifferent or bored. He thought that “The music was lively, but it’s not right that George Washington was black (scowling face)”. He, and our nation still have a long way to go to become tolerant and truly multicultural. New York is not Dubuque, and the Bronx is not Queens, and Hamilton is clearly a bit too progressive for many, perhaps justifying its creation. Color-blind casting is now commonplace in Manhattan theater, but there are still rules: Willy Loman can be black, but Othello cannot be white. Hamilton takes color-blind casting one step further, creating an allegory of 1770s rebels as rap-people of color, repressed by a white aristocracy. It’s a great concept, but I wished that the book did not resort to familiar inaccurate stereotypes about man-of-the street founding fathers, and that the music was more interesting. Perhaps Hamilton a way to interest kids in history, but the history they will internalize is no better than the legends promulgated in 1930s public school textbooks.
Book, Music, and Lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda
The Private Bank Theater, Chicago IL
September 7, 2017
Directed by Thomas Kail
Starring Miguel Cervantes, Gregory Treco, Ari Afsar, Jonathan Kirkland, and Chris De’Sean Lee
It's fair to say that Hamilton is quickly asserting itself as the most important musical of our time. Miranda's revolutionary musical gets people thinking about race, history, and theater in ways they're probably not used to.
-Chris Weller, Business Insider
The hip-hop musical Hamilton won multiple Tony Awards in 2016 and has been lauded as a brilliant, transformative, entirely original masterpiece by many theater critics. I finally caught up to it in Chicago, where it has played for the past year. Tickets there are about ½ the $400-700 price on Broadway, and could actually be obtained the week of the show. Despite the palpable excitement and anticipation in the theater, the show failed to deliver a clear point of view, compelling music, an accurate historical picture, or even interesting theater. The Emperor has no clothes; actually, some nudity might have enlivened things.
In temperament, [the characters are] a lot closer to the real men who inspired this show than the stately figures of high school history books. Before they were founding fathers, these guys were rebellious sons, moving to a new, fierce, liberating beat that never seemed to let up. Hamilton makes us feel the unstoppable, urgent rhythm of a nation being born.
-Ben Brantley, NY Times
Hamilton is a sort of bio-musical that follows the career of Alexander Hamilton, from his roots as an poor immigrant from St. Croix, to his serving in Washington’s army, to his seminal role as Federalist leader, cabinet member and founder of the centralized US economic system. His life ended early after being fatally shot by Aaron Burr in one of those pistol duels then in fashion among offended aristocrats. The musical portrays many of the founding “fathers” (women are mostly wives and supporters here, not so revolutionary) in hip-hip guise, played entirely by actors of color. This, and the use of rap lyrics/music stamped it as both a way to connect young people with American history, and as a sort of allegory, in which the radical young 1770s revolutionaries were the hip hop rebels of their time. Were they? As Howard Zinn points out in his A People’s History of the United States, the American revolution was largely a revolt led by landowning aristocrats desirous of maintaining economic control independent of British taxation. The Declaration of Independence’ famous advocacy for “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” was derived by Jefferson from the Virginia Declaration of Rights, which sought “…the enjoyment of life and liberty, with the means of acquiring and possessing property, and pursuing and obtaining happiness and safety.” To our founding fathers “happiness” was not the 2017 concept of unlimited kale shakes and long vacations, but instead prosperity, thriving, well-being. Our founders did not trust the common people to lead, resulting in the indirect election of president (Electoral College) and of senators (by legislatures). Hamilton himself was particularly adamant, seeking the establishment of lifetime presidential and senate appointments, because:
All communities divide themselves into the few and the many…the rich and well-born, and the mass of the people. The people are turbulent and changing; they seldom judge or determine right. Give therefore to the first class a distinct permanent share in the government.
While there were certainly conflicts among these founders, most famously regarding Jefferson’s preference for agrarian rural leadership vs. the Federalists’ urban manufacturing bias, this was still mostly an argument about which economic faction should hold the power. Here is an example of this argument as portrayed in Hamilton rap:
JEFFERSON:
If New York’s in debt—
Why should Virginia bear it?
Huh! Our debts are paid, I’m afraid.
Don’t tax the South cuz we got it made in the shade.
In Virginia, we plant seeds in the ground.
We create. You just wanna move our money around.
HAMILTON:
A civics lesson from a slaver. Hey neighbor.
Your debts are paid cuz you don’t pay for labor.
“We plant seeds in the South. We create.” Yeah, keep ranting.
We know who’s really doing the planting.
And another thing, Mr. Age of Enlightenment
Don’t lecture me about the war; you didn’t fight in it.
A conflict, sure, but hardly the stuff of wild eyed rebellion. More like a debate in Econ 101. The musical chooses Alexander Hamilton as its lead, presumably due to his out-of-wedlock fatherless upbringing in the Caribbean, early poverty, then meteoric rise after arrival in the colonies. He is therefore a metaphor for the idealized immigrant experience, a tonic to recent immigrant-baiting. But his rise and entry to Colombia University law school was facilitated by wealthy patrons, and he quickly became an economic conservative and advocate for centralization of financial control (he founded the first Bank of the United States). Hamilton’s desire to show the founders as the hip-hop rebels of their era is therefore curious and not quite true:
HAMILTON:
Hey, yo, I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry, and I am not throwing away my shot.
His rival Jefferson, portrayed here as an out-there, ditsy Frenchy-style radical (the same actor plays Lafayette), was in fact an intellectual, analytic, idealistic pedant, and a wealthy slaveholder to boot. True, the US revolution the first enduring non-monarchic western state, but it was firmly based on economic control of the few. This of course remains a huge challenge today, with income disparity and disproportionate control of the electoral system by large money donors. So is this really the American history we seek to present to our kids? It seems to me just as idealized as George Washington chopping down his cherry tree, just in a different way.
There’s an earnestness to Hamilton that is impossible to resist. While the fake debates of an overlong election season foul the airwaves, it’s a relief to find, at least in the theater, some sincere and energetic grappling with the character of our country.
-Alisa Solomon, The Nation
Nearly every review focuses on Hamilton’s importance as a historical, social, or educational document. But as I have argued about most contemporary art, such works should not be judged simply as sociological vehicles, but for their artistic value and enduring timelessness. There is relatively little space devoted to criticism of Hamilton as an artistic work. Is it a good musical? I think not. Even given my relative disinterest in rap music, I occasionally admire its edge, anger, and outrageousness. Hamilton’s lauded rap lyrics, while clever (see above), have none of this. I burst out laughing at one point as Hamilton rapped about managing bank interest rates--not exactly Straight Outta Compton. Overall the rap did not seem well connected to the history, and the rap presented was tame and lacked anger and outrage. You can get a general sense of it in this Tony Award excerpt. Nor is Hamilton exclusively rap. Rap is delivered mostly by the male leads, while their wives more often sing tepid ballads in the style of Les Miserables. Was this sexism intentional, or just a recognition that rap is limited in its emotional compass, therefore not ideal for a 2 hour musical? This leads to my main artistic critique. I did not have an experience of “energetic grappling” as the above reviewer did. I mostly sat for two hours uninvolved, waiting for some original or compelling music to emerge. There were a couple of couple of amusing numbers by King George III (Alexander Gemignani), the only white actor in the cast (white establishment, rebels of color, get it?) done in a Brit glamour-rock style that made many in the audience double over in laughter (I was mildly amused, at least). But overall, there was not much compelling music on display, very problematic for a through-sung musical. Nor was there much tension or interest in the book, consisting of a series of chronological vignettes from Hamilton’s life. Even the climactic duel with Burr lacked tension, perhaps because the rationale for it (arcane New York state politics) was neither part of the main narrative, nor foreshadowed effectively in earlier events. None of the characters transcended a comic book stereotype, so none built real sympathy or antipathy. The hop-hop choreography was decent, but no better than what you can see on any music video. The actors dressed in period costumes, but the set had the look of an urban warehouse. Such stylistic mixture can be compelling, but had no real unifying concept here. Overall it felt like the creators spent all their time on rap lyrics-meets-colonial economics, and had less energy left over for the other critical elements of a good musical.
On exiting the theater, a middle aged white guy asked me what I thought. I shared some of the above, and that I was mostly indifferent or bored. He thought that “The music was lively, but it’s not right that George Washington was black (scowling face)”. He, and our nation still have a long way to go to become tolerant and truly multicultural. New York is not Dubuque, and the Bronx is not Queens, and Hamilton is clearly a bit too progressive for many, perhaps justifying its creation. Color-blind casting is now commonplace in Manhattan theater, but there are still rules: Willy Loman can be black, but Othello cannot be white. Hamilton takes color-blind casting one step further, creating an allegory of 1770s rebels as rap-people of color, repressed by a white aristocracy. It’s a great concept, but I wished that the book did not resort to familiar inaccurate stereotypes about man-of-the street founding fathers, and that the music was more interesting. Perhaps Hamilton a way to interest kids in history, but the history they will internalize is no better than the legends promulgated in 1930s public school textbooks.
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