With the 2020 presidential election currently racking up attention in the news, it feels like a good time to celebrate the democratic process. America has had a wild existence, lead by several eccentric personalities all striving for a sense of freedom. It’s important to remember where the country was and thrive to determine which directing it will go.
In the world of Broadway, most modern audiences will be quick to tell you that Hamilton perfectly reflects this, following the story of Alexander Hamilton with a vivid and lively musical. However, anyone who followed the touring theater scene, there’s a good chance that one show has come to town sporting a blurb from Lin-Manuel Miranda: “There would be no Hamilton without 1776.” It’s the type of endorsement that would make one assume that this was a groundbreaking show, capable of changing the theatrical landscape in ways that only made the future of the medium more meaningful.
To be totally honest, 1776 as a show is fine. I can’t say that it has too many noteworthy songs and mostly exists as a way of personalizing history. I do admire artists who want to bring history to life, and there is something to watching a cantankerous John Adams sing his way through The Declaration of Independence, but it doesn’t always have the most timeless songs of shows, even from the late 60s. It’s a great story, and that’s really what carries it. Well, that and the unique opportunity to offer discounted tickets for $17.76, which is the chef’s kiss of marketing.
Then again, it makes sense that this is one of the political musicals that still gets brought up. It’s one of the few that were successful enough. Compared to the drudgery of Alan Jay Lerner and Leonard Bernstein’s 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, it’s practically high art. The comedy hits, but never steps on the toes of the show’s painstaking accuracy to character, finding the monotony of crafting such an important document turn into an entertaining compromise. It is never not funny to think that a man of as brilliant thinking as Benjamin Franklin was so dead-set on having the national bird be a turkey. These are things that are just entertaining on a human level.
So the question is how exactly a show that promises to make history into an entertaining night of theater start? You can’t just write a song making fun of how stuffy and boring history is. There needs to be an immediate drop-in to this perspective, bringing to life something that will capture the audience. Most people in the audience will have a passing knowledge of figures like Adams, Franklin, or Thomas Jefferson. They’ll know the famous portrait of everyone signing the document. What you need to do is give some deeper meaning to what that picture represents. It’s something that Stephen Sondheim would do more profoundly with Sunday in the Park with George decades later, but here it’s about making the myth into something accessible and, more importantly, human.
It makes sense to have Adams be the entry point to this entire story. He has one of the strongest dynamics, if just because of his outgoing manner. He is the delegate from Massachusetts that nobody at The Continental Congress likes. He is always causing arguments, and he is immediately a compelling figure. Where most people look at The Founding Fathers and see dignified leaders, the truth is very different. Adams is not as widely accepted for his brilliance or push for independency. He is a bit arrogant. His heart is in the right place, but the trick is getting everyone to see the opportunities that they have here to break free of British rule and form The United States of America.
How do you introduce that in one fell swoop? You have the brilliant opening, composed by Sherman Edwards, called “Sit Down, John.”
Following orchestration, the scene opens in Philadelphia, PA, and finds Adams storming in with a declarative statement. He is angry, ready to make a world of difference. In our minds, he’ll go in and immediately get what he wants:
"By God, I have had this Congress! For ten years, King George and his Parliament have gulled, cullied, and diddled these colonies. And still, this Congress refuses to grant any of my proposals on independence, even so much as the courtesy of open debate! Good God, what in the hell are they waiting for?"
There’s an urgency to Adams. You know that he wants to lead the country towards change. He’s cursing and sounds like he’s about to tear his hair out. It’s not the most dignified introduction, but it gets things across. He’s someone with a fire in his belly, waiting to burst. It also introduces a ton of establishing details in just four sentences. Why is The Continental Congress gathered? Because King George is suppressing them. Why is Adams mad? Because everyone else is suppressing him. It’s a layered look at freedom as an individual as well as a collective.
As a firm believer in America’s greatness being made on compromise, what follows is an enjoyable story about making something everyone can agree on. The Declaration of Independence means a lot to America’s fabric. How does The Continental Congress take this outburst from Adams? In a deep, frustrated choir, they all sing “For God’s sake, John, sit down!”
This is happening as Adams wanders the room, trying to convince the various supporting characters to see his way. While many will be given due diligence later, right now finds the early allusions to figures like Jefferson and Franklin, who exist more as observers, singing “Sit down, John!” along with everyone else. Adams needs to win over the entire room, and it’s going to be quite an arduous task.
Of course, there’s also a comical sidebar about another detail. A lone man cries “Someone ought to open up a window.” Not only is it distracting from the situation at hand, but it makes clear an idea of the outside world. It’s 90 degrees in Philadelphia, and in 1776 without air conditioning, it was likely hell. Nobody can keep a straight head when they’re sweating up a storm. The room probably smelled bad, too. Everyone’s uncomfortable and mad, and all that the world wants is to cool down a bit. Suddenly 1776 goes from a dignified look at history to a potential brawl through song.
The interesting idea is to use that window as a bigger symbol. In a broad sense, it’s a way to cool down or relax. You can imagine how relaxed everyone would be. And yet, they keep it closed. They continue to have heated arguments, feeling the intensity of this congress build up. Everyone is reaching a boiling point, and all that we’ve done so far is listening to Adams call for change. Of course, there’s also the idea that “open up a window” connects them to the British monarchy, giving into dependency.
There’s also the literal fact that they couldn’t open a window on the grounds that it risked spies stealing their secrets (later alluded to with the line “too many flies!”). There was so much pressure and resentment towards having to do this in secrecy, removed from the world. It was a metaphor for America, wishing to be removed from outside control. Finally, the window could just be a symbol of the compromise process itself. After all, you either open the window or you don’t. When the congress yells against this, it’s as much a realization that they want independency as it is that things are about to get a lot hotter underneath everyone’s collars.
Most of the track exists as a shouting match between Adams and The Continental Congress. Among the noteworthy supporting characters that speaks up is Richard Henry Lee. However, like Adams, they shoot down his desire to open up a window. Meanwhile, Adams is going on about “Vote yes!” The congress rejects him, calling him a bore and that they’ve heard him ramble on before. If anything, it proves how persistent he is. They want him to comply with orders, and he refuses. He is as independent as the nation he envisions.
At a certain point, Adams goes so far as to argue “Consider yourselves fortunate that you have John Adams to abuse, for no sane man would tolerate it!”
It adds self-awareness, that he’s aware that nobody likes him. Nobody likes America, and this operation has the potential to go belly up. There needed to be a reason to keep trying for a brighter future. As Adams circles the room, he grows mad, banging his fist while trying to be heard over the crowd who simply want to comply. Maybe they just want things to cool down so that they can get through the day without breaking out into a fistfight.
As an introduction, it’s very slight. On the surface, it has a minimalist approach that doesn’t say a whole lot. It’s just Adams yelling at people. However, it feels like the start of deconstruction that is necessary. You can’t go in with a dense song that throws everyone’s motives into the frame. There needs to be an establishment of theme, and Edwards does it beautifully by having these layers symbolized in Adams, a window, and The Continental Congress. Read one way, and it’s just an unflattering portrait of arrogance. Read another, it’s about the pressure for America to establish itself as a nation. It was full of angry, disagreeable men. Why not have them argue a bit?
Of course, the song is just entertaining, and there is a sense that Adams may be a bit full of himself. The comedy may not be fully recognizable at first, but the idea is to make these men relatable. Everyone has had a hot summer day, where they want to open up a window to get circulation. There are these small ways where 1776 becomes contemporary even under the period piece trappings. It’s the type of way that you learn that this isn’t going to be a boring theater. This may actually end with a Founding Father getting a black eye. It’s a civilized brawl if there ever was one.
Then, to prove how disagreeable things are, a congressman asks “Will someone shut that man up?” Adams defiantly screams into the crowd “Never!”
This is far from the end of Adams. Love him or hate him, but everything is perfectly established in less than three minutes. 1776 has made its mark on theater with an opener that reflects America’s birth as something more rugged and disjointed than the history books likely would suggest. This is a story that paints them as real people, capable of something greater. Then again, they’re as likely to make the turkey their national bird, so anything is possible.
Which is fun about 1776. It’s a time of great uncertainty, where even the future existence of America maybe wasn’t going to happen. To see history, not as a dignified picture that nobody could truly live up to feels unfair. America deserves some reverence, but we need to acknowledge that it is flawed, in constant need of intervention and conversation from both sides. Everyone needs to work together, and that nobody should just sit down. There is a need to listen, maybe finding some truth dug deeper into our own humanity.
Again, I don’t love the show even if I think it’s a great introduction to this particular piece of history. If reading text is too much and you can’t see The Founding Fathers as real people, then track this down. The middle half may be a bit of a lull and the songs are rarely as memorable as “Sit Down, John,” but it’ll give you a deeper appreciation not only for theater craft but how America wasn’t a clear cut picture. It took a whole lot of work to get a vision that everyone could share. The fact that it’s seen through the eyes of a man who refused to give up is both a sign of America at its best and most annoying. Basically, it’s as honest as you can get.
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