There have been few modern Broadway musicals with the success that Hamilton has. The marketing alone has become iconic, from the silhouettes and ads that quote Lin-Manuel Miranda’s memorable lyrics. After all, who doesn’t want to be in the room where it happens? In just six years, Hamilton has become a sensation only experienced by The Producers, Wicked, and The Book of Mormon in the 21st century. It has become synonymous with the stage while drawing in an insane amount of revenue and attendance, introducing new generations to the art form. The fact that even the professionally shot version has won all but an Oscar (though it tried) should show what its immediate impact has been. Odds are it will only continue to bloom as it quickly approaches its first decade as powerhouse entertainment.
For a show sold on exclusivity, it’s amazing how inescapable it has been. Earlier in 2021, the show returned to its residency at The Pantages Theater in Hollywood, CA, and welcomed audiences back from a long, arduous pandemic. While any theater would be desired at this point, to enter the new era with a *click* *boom* is an exciting prospect, especially at a venue with architecture as magnificent as the minimalist sets onstage. There’s so much history in walking through the door, where The Walk of Fame lines the sidewalk outside and the gift shop sells everything a Hamilton fan could hope for. Its residency feels almost as permanent as the Amoeba across the street, making the ads for upcoming touring shows that line the foyer bittersweet.
But what is there for someone who has obsessed over Hamilton since 2015? Someone who has listened to the soundtrack on repeat, analyzed every frame of the Disney+ production, and knows every trivia (including a silent, poetic subplot involving a dancer simply known as “The Bullet”). What does seeing it in person possibly offer to that person?
On the surface, the song remains the same. While audiences will not get to see original cast members or hear the songs in quite the same key, there is still something revelatory about, as they say, being in the room where it happens.
It’s the build-up of a crowd, full of eager theater fans who know they’re about to have a great time. Some arrive in t-shirts or merchandise, sharing stories of how many times they had seen the show. Others will be surprised with how free-formed the show feels compared to the filmed version. At many points, there is a reliance on audience participation that hasn’t been captured by any Broadway adjacent show of this magnitude. The fourth wall has been firmly broken. There may be winks and nods, but this isn’t mugging to the crowd. Much like the hip-hop that runs through the veins of its score, part of its appeal is treating the historical drama like a rallying cry. There’s antagonism that’s made better by hearing audiences snicker along. At other points characters like Thomas Jefferson (Tommar Wilson) spend most of Act II turning to the audience for feedback, even using his introductory song to build character by waving to the crowd like a rock star doing everything to boost his ego.
The story is the same. The emotional impact hits the same. The choreography in moments such as “Hurricane” is visually stunning in its simplicity as background dancers lift furniture to reflect a world turned upside down (it also works as a convenient set change). At the center is Alexander Hamilton (Jamael Westman), who has more of a meekness compared to originator Miranda. He talks with a more reserved, self-conscious tone that slowly builds confidence over time. The same goes for the show’s complex antagonist Aaron Burr (Nicholas Christopher) who vocally feels wobbly in Act I but slowly finds balance in Act II. They perform the numbers with a casualness that feels absent from other recordings, exploring the interpersonal aspects of these characters, allowing the emotions to feel more vulnerable. The show lacks a polish that its hype might suggest it has, and it’s honestly one of the diamonds in the rough of this show’s legacy. It’s what keeps the live show from feeling minor when compared to everything else that is more readily available.
The show itself may be the most interesting anomaly. In a time where shows like Waitress and Dear Evan Hansen favor more direct expression of emotion, Hamilton has chosen to explore how historical figures guard themselves. There are glimpses into every character’s headspace, but they often feel juxtaposed more towards the social, their long-term impacts on history. Miranda has written a show meant to be dissected by intellectuals, who will take time to slow down the lyrics and notice every turn of phrase and shout-out to Gilbert & Sullivan, Aaron Sorkin, or DMX. It’s a show that rewards deeper thought, and sometimes the lyrics suffer an ability to just exist as an emotion. The more direct songs of passion often favor descriptive language, sounding like essays instead of universal expressions of the heart. As the closer would go so far as to suggest, Hamilton is more about caring about what we contribute to the world than how it actually makes us feel.
That is why it’s interesting that the show works as well as it does. For a show where characters aren’t necessarily written as accessible, they somehow symbolize a modernization of history that allows textbook material to feel rich. There’s no doubt that class would’ve been better if it involved sitting through “World Turned Upside Down” and having Hercules Mulligan (Ebrin R. Stanley) steamroll through an infectious verse. There is something endearing about Miranda’s ability to make a large expose on the value of perspective in a way that speaks to theater’s potential to evolve and welcome new ways of thinking. Even as it influences other “historemixes” like Six, it remains a singular accomplishment that will keep theater alive well into the years following this uncertain post-pandemic era.
It’s sad to know that Hamilton’s latest visit to The Pantages is coming to a close because it did really feel like it would be there forever, allowing every tourist to have a great day in front of Dolby Theater before impulsively buying tickets to an evening show. Even for those who know the show, the greatest thing about it is how nothing can prepare you for simply just being in the room where it happens, surrounded by the booming orchestra that mixes record scratches into ammunition discourse. It’s a form of new classical. Maybe it will fade into novelty or make its contemporaries feel immediately dated. Whatever it is, Miranda’s ability to make musicals relevant while carrying so much is an impressive achievement. It’s rare that something this loaded connects with the masses, and for that alone Hamilton has become immortal.
Who knows, maybe it will eventually even outlive The Phantom of the Opera’s residency on Broadway. That is the real American dream, isn’t it? Not bad for a ten dollar founding father without a father.
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