As a certain woman said “Look around, look around. Look how lucky we are to be alive right now.” Even amid a global pandemic, there is still time for quality entertainment to be released, uniting everyone in a shared conversation. With Disney+’s recent release of the filmed version of Hamilton (2020), it has both garnered new fans and brought back a conversation about the show’s place in Broadway’s rich history. There’s no denying that it’s already bound to be one of the greatest (in size and impact) shows of the 21st century, becoming mythic as the cast goes about whatever’s next.
Most of all, it will always be the defining moment when Lin-Manuel Miranda ascended into the pantheon of great composers. Alongside recent names like Robert Lopez, Anais Mitchell, and Benj Pasek & Justin Paul, they’re helping to redefine the hallowed medium for a new generation. Though if I’m being honest, the success of Hamilton can’t be talked about without remembering an alternate timeline, where we were about to receive a very different Miranda project. No, I’m not talking about Hulu’s upcoming Freestyle Love Supreme (2020), but one that has gained a new level of attention in Hamilton’s wake.
As the curtains begin to part, the world comes into focus. We’re not seeing some grand mythic landscape, but a place that’s familiar to a voice that doesn’t often have Broadway shows about them. Instead of going further, let’s have Miranda in his debut as a composer and book writer tell you himself:
Lights up on Washington Heights, up at the break of dayI wake up and I got this little punk I gotta chase awayPop the grate at the crack of dawn, singWhile I wipe down the awningHey y'all, good morning
Prior to the global pandemic, 2020 was going to be the year of In the Heights (2021): a long-overdue adaptation of the 2008 musical that got Miranda halfway to the EGOT status. After some contractual issues (it was one of the projects meant to be produced by The Weinstein Company… so, yeah), it finally became a reality with director Jon M. Chu in tow. The trailers were electric. It was going to be the film of the summer, finally busting open a secret that musical fans had kept to themselves for over a decade.
I was one of those excited to finally see the film because, in a lot of respects, there’s something even more groundbreaking about In the Heights as a show than Hamilton. Sure, the latter is more efficient, capturing more universal themes still relevant to his pro-immigrant subtext. But if you want to understand Miranda at his core, you need to go back to when he humbly wished everyone a good morning before breaking out into the remaining verses of the opener “In the Heights.”
The policy of the show is simple. We’re supposed to look at the lives of these people who live and work on this single block in Washington Heights. It’s a world of convenience stores, dispatchers, and college students questioning their place in life. It’s one that feels familiar, even if there is something remixed in the quiet opening of those first notes, like a rap song before the beat drops. It’s the calm before the storm before Miranda transcends the novelty and makes a show that is, quite literally, going to open some doors.
This isn’t your typical Broadway show. Sure, there’s an underlying love of the medium, reveling in giant theatrics that wouldn’t be out of place in Rodgers & Hammerstein, but what is produced here is something more youthful, familiar to an audience who probably haven’t even stepped foot in a theater. It’s a place full of break dancers as the soundtrack skates between rap verses and salsa full of Spanglish. None of it is explained. It’s all inherently understood. This is their culture, and we’re not going to get bogged down in explaining it all.
One could argue that the greatest achievement in music as a medium over the 21st century has been the de-stigmatization of rap. To look back just in the 1990s was to see a time when it was still considered dangerous, a genre to motivate thugs and make conservative pundits nervous. It wasn’t considered a place of deep and prophetic thoughts, at least by anyone outside of the youthful demographics. It wasn’t until they began to share how the style was more than violent showmanship that the world began to realize that, hey, this rap stuff is kind of catchy. Even country music nowadays likes to do some fusion now and then.
Even then, I don’t know that there are many shows like In the Heights that have used a blending of styles so efficiently that it evades novelty. This is a musical at its core that is passionate about every note. Miranda’s Usnavi is a protagonist who you’d never mistake for a thug, more capable of being berated for his friends for not having skill, and having an even goofier brother who wants him to hook up with someone who works at the neighboring salon. These are things that feel vital to the text, where even a running joke about a broken record informs something deeper about how these characters persevere.
We even have time for The Piragua Man, who peddles his snacks on the hottest days of summer. While it’s arguably a tactic to fill time during scene transitions, it’s still this endearing view of a neighborhood, where everyone has their own economic struggles and question their passion to continue. Almost everyone in the heights has something to gain by winning the lottery, and yet nobody is downtrodden about things. They wish that they had it better, but this is a view of The American Dream that feels authentic. Usnavi, himself an immigrant from the Dominican Republic, spends Act II in a moral quandary when it’s determined that he may be able to acquire $96,000 from his Abuelita (she’s not really, but she did practically raise him).
This isn’t a story that spans decades of one man’s life. Frankly, it’s all quaint compared to the visions that Miranda would enhance later on. What we have is a matter of days to explore these characters’ struggles, and it’s a far more endearing and fleshed out journey when considering how all of the cultures collide. The opening number happens to do it best as salsa numbers and hip-hop butt heads with each other as if the soundscape was bumping into each other on the street. It’s overwhelming, yet beautiful, as the song proudly ends with the ensemble welcoming us to Washington Heights.
What I do love is how it’s a Broadway show that never rests on one idea. It’s the type of show where a romantic ballad can be sung in Spanglish, with the romantic harmonies being these lyrical wonders. If anything, it draws you in to the awe of other cultures, making you see America as this place of greater opportunity. To have a place where these voices can all flourish makes you leave the show feeling invigorated, imagining a future where the Mirandas of the world are continually blowing our mind in favor of… whatever Escape to Margaritaville is supposed to make us feel.
As much as the show will get credit for making the young characters feel more alive and fleshed out, I am especially charmed by how Miranda writes his older ones. There is a sentimentality, a reflection of characters we’ve seen but never understood outside of white stories.
I am especially touched by how he paints Kevin Rosario, Nina’s overprotective father. Over the course of “Inútil (Useless),” he details the struggles he’s personally made to give Nina opportunities with college that she’s throwing away. Even if some would look at this as harmless, to see Kevin struggle with it has always been heartbreaking because it’s a reflection of immigrants that Hamilton never provides. It’s the perspective of someone who sacrifices their entire life for a career just so that their children can do better. He provides a tragic subtext to Nina’s quandary that hasn’t really been explored before. Suddenly this becomes about more than childish rebellion. It’s one that proves just how much harder immigrants have to work just to get the same opportunities of white counterparts.
Sure, the show does harp on this aspect a lot, but it’s often buried under so many flashy scenes that become a powerful spectacle. One of the show’s best numbers, “$96,000,” gives a look at how each character would spend their proverbial lottery winnings, and it says so much about how they dream of success. They’re nobodies working at corner stores, so that idea of having anything better is alluring. They will finally have some cache to brag about. It also has one of the best examples of Miranda’s subtle lyrical wit:
Vanessa: “If I win the lottery, you’ll never see me again”Usnavi: “Damn, we only jokin’, stay broke then”
The thing about In the Heights as a show is not how much it gives new life to a very old medium. Everyone has found whiz-bang gimmicks for centuries now. What the show does is make these voices feel vital and natural, creating a sense of urgency that even shows like Rent couldn’t achieve. They reflected contemporary and taboo subjects, but they couldn’t do it in a way that reflected America’s shifting cultural diversity. Most of all, few managed to capture the atmosphere as effectively. As much as I’m saddened that In the Heights got pushed back, it makes more sense as a summer movie because, frankly, you’ll get it when you see it. It’s the type of film that only works when you bust open a water valve and flood the streets so that the party can begin.
I have seen the show twice now and was on my way to a third prior to current events. I will say that there is something so rewarding about discovering it for yourself. I first watched it because of Hamilton’s success, figuring that I deserved to see at least one Miranda show in my lifetime.
As much as “In the Heights” will win you over immediately, I think there is something to be said about its Act I conclusion “Blackout.” When paired with “The Club,” there is this epic journey into one night of partying that not only conveys characters developing personal struggles, but it does so while dealing with a night club atmosphere and humorous drinking rituals. It’s eccentric and fun, finding ways to make the claustrophobic bliss work as a form of theater.
Things build to “Blackout,” where suddenly the lights are down and the audience is thrown into a peril that is just as uncertain. The second half will deal with the aftermath, but for now, details a weekend where the lack of lights brings with it chaos that builds to one of the most memorable uses of fireworks in any musical ever. It’s difficult to ruin, as the experience of seeing it onstage as presented in the story is one of those magical moments of world-building. This is where it’s confirmed how much potential Miranda has. He knows how to take us through these trials and tribulations just to give us the big finish.
To be honest, 2020 feels emptier for not having In the Heights in it. I wanted to be able to share my personal love of the show with everyone. With that said, I’m glad to keep the secret behind Usnavi’s name as a personal in-joke for a little bit longer. Whenever it comes out, I am sure that audiences will notice not only how great this show is, but how underrated Chu’s work is as a filmmaker. Following stellar work in Step Up 3D (2010), he has nothing but goodwill in my heart. He will make it work, I can feel it.
So sure, I am thrilled to know that audiences are responding to Hamilton with as much enthusiasm as it deserves. I can only hope that it gets them ready to have something even more exciting and unique: a voice that’s still raw but whose ambition clearly excels in every second of stage work. For what In the Heights lacks in scale, it more than makes up for in pure soul and energy. It’s the introduction to an author who will let these voices speak for themselves, and in the process show just how accessible it is and how much we’re all ready to give them a chance. When we even allow The Piragua Guy to share his struggles, there is a sense of just how closely Miranda is paying attention. I just hope he never loses his focus.
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