OK. I have, for whatever, reason, been unreasonably lucky in my lifetime. The other day (EDIT: 6 WEEKS AGO), I hit a 400-1 shot and was granted 2 tickets to "Hamilton" through the ticket lottery.
As it happened, it was like the ONE night that we had NO obligations that couldn't be changed in the last month or so, and so...we jumped at the chance to take the tickets, all $20 of them, and went to see the show.
In my manic state, of course, I shared this news on Facebook, and some people expressed interest in hearing my thoughts on the show. I'm not certain why, but I'm honored to be asked like that...so I, in my own fashion, will give you far too detailed a review (EDIT: I didn't do that!) of my experience with "Hamilton" in Chicago on a pleasant January night. Thanks for asking. SPOILERS WILL BE IN THIS (EDIT: Turns out, NO!).
First off...our tickets were on the aisle of the center section...in row B. When we walked in, I said to the usher, "Ours are way down there, I think." She said, "Oh, yeah, WAY down there." As we got closer to what I assumed was row B (the SECOND ROW), I was not happy to find someone sitting in those seats...and I didn't want to have to do the "I think you're in our seats..." Then, I realized, that they were, in fact, sitting in row C, and that row B is...the front row. So. We had front row seats to "Hamilton," and we got them for $20 total, and a few moments of my time on Tuesday night when I entered the lottery.
I went into this show completely blind. I hadn't watched any clips, I hadn't read any reviews, I hadn't listened to the CD, despite owning it for over a year, and I damn sure didn't know anything beyond the story...well...a good chunk of it.
That's HIGHLY unusual for me. I like research. When I direct a show, I often get other materials, or delve into all the online materials I can find, etc. Not always, but often. So, I was approaching this...in the moment.
First things first. Front row seats are AMAZING for getting the subtle moments. AMAZING. And they are really inferior to getting the spectacle. Granted, our proximity allowed us to be spat upon throughout the night, as performers popped out their consonants, and I was looked at directly by performers in several key moments, but...I missed the big stuff. I'm a fan of the small stuff, anyway...so this played right into my wheelhouse.
I spent a good deal of our time in advance studying the set. Fantastic. Detailed, nuanced, the wings were carefully hidden as part of the set, the stage allowed for multiple locations without ever moving (huh, where have I seen THAT recently?), and I loved it. Kind of fun...actual stage hands appeared during intermission to change the scenery. ACTUAL STAGE HANDS IN BLACK CLOTHES ON STAGE AT A BROADWAY SHOW. I cannot remember the last time I saw that.
I would love nothing more than to review the performers, but I don't think that's what I'm supposed to see. I think I'm supposed to see the totality of the piece. I think I'm supposed to understand that what I'm watching is a Greek play, complete with a VERY active chorus, with the actors wearing masks. No, they do not physically wear masks, but...well. Can't put it delicately. Thomas Jefferson did not have the skin color of an African-American.
Ultimately, I think that's what I saw in the show. I recently directed "Sense and Sensibility." The show was great at times, and missed at times, a great deal of that, I feel, owing to the script. The show was written as a break-neck paced telling of Austen's classic story, and set pieces were to be minimal. I was criticized for not using any set...but what I did, and I couldn't put words to it until someone who watched one of the final rehearsals said, "You're making us focus on the acting, and the story, and not the superfluous." And you know what? That's a hard thing for people to do. "Hamilton" begs us to do that. Nay. It FORCES us to do that.
There are a crap-ton of distractions throughout the show, but one is not focused on the rifles in the hands of the Yorktown scene, as there are none, but one is forced to pay attention to the performers. And God love me, I did. I picked up damn near every word they were saying. I caught myself, as per usual, being the only one laughing at one of the jokes, because it flew by other audience members, or because their experience with the material is different. I've spent a good deal of my life trying to embody a couple of founding fathers, including the aforementioned Thomas Jefferson (twice) while performing the play "1776." I've studied this era. And I cannot remember the specific moment, but like usually happens to me in a play, there's a 1% joke thrown in, and I find those the funniest, and usually laugh really loudly. BTW, a 1% joke is one that only 1% of the audience will get. Bah. Randysplaining at its finest.
The show is brilliantly costumed, from the androgyny of the women, who wear pants throughout, but occasionally don skirts over those, to the uniforms worn by the soldiers, to the amazing whites that those who have passed wear at the conclusion of the show...just breathtaking.
The set is amazing. Duh. The multiple layers of the center turntables, allowing variance in speed, or allowing characters to be stationary in the center...more genius. The details are amazing. It's a damned sparse set, carried on by the performers, and it just works. We're visiting so many locations in such a short time...it's hard to imagine more. Know who else did stuff like that? The Greeks. Stop me when you sense a theme.
Choreography is mind-boggling. The actors move so quickly and so smoothly around the stage...it's like a well-choreographed dance. Wait. OH.... For a show that requires us to focus SO MUCH on the spoken/sung word, the choreography is crazy good, while not pulling our focus.
The music. It's not all rap. There's a hell of a lot of rap, but there are also some ballads, some love songs, some songs of regret. Two particular musical pieces stood out to me, besides the obvious ones. Near the end of Act I, following the defeat of the British at Yorktown, there is a wonderful duet between Hamilton and Burr called "Dear Theodosia," in which each of them describe the sacrifices/desires of a parent, while touching on the hope that the birth of the new nation brought. That I can be so compelled by watching two men in chairs stare straight ahead and sing...well. That's a hell of a number. Again...front row on that one. Every facial twitch was visible. The other number I was sucked into was "The World Was Wide Enough." It's a lesson for all of us. In our personal lives, in our philosophies, in everything, we are going to encounter those that are the absolute opposite of us. And while we may not see their value, there's a reason they feel that way, there's a reason they are here. I, FAR too often, do not allow for differences to my often-very-correct opinions. But you know what? The world is wide enough for others, too. I forget it. ALL THE TIME. I don't duel people to the death, but I've certainly silenced a few, or forced them to confrontation, or whatever, and I'm...wrong. Just wrong. What I'm saying may be right, but I don't have the experiences of others to empathize with why they may be right, too. I'm a shit in this regard.
One other thing. There are 3 conceits that I have said for a long time are my favorites in theatre. 1. I LOVE the "Bad Idea Bears" in "Avenue Q." I think a couple of Care Bears simply flopping a noose out while a character contemplates failure is one of the most brilliant things, well...ever. 2. That the "Elephant Man" does not wear anything prosthetic. It makes us look at the man, and at ourselves. 3. The Venticelli in "Amadeus." Like the "Bad Idea Bears," I love this little chorus that is essential to the plot, but also detached from the action, because, well, they don't really exist. All of these things are, for me, a big part of the reason why I love theatre as a means of story-telling so damned much. "Hamilton" added, for me, a fourth. 4. King George III. I can't say more, but his inclusion in the show, and the way he is used, and BEING IN THE FRONT ROW AND SEEING THAT ACTOR'S EYES REFLECT WHAT HE WAS SINGING SO SUBTLY...crazy. Just crazy. And, as a Jefferson guy, the subtle-as-a-freight-train dig at John Adams...well. I'll always love one of those.
So. What am I left with? "Hamilton" is a wonderfully modern Greek drama, complete with actors wearing masks, but telling the tales of a people's origins to a modern audience, using the language of the times. We see their flaws, we see their heroics, we see their humanity. We cry with them. We laugh with them. We are awe-struck by them. I will, when I can finally justify it, be taking all 3 children over whom I hold some direct influence to see it. Because it's that important, not only as a piece of theatre, but as a way of defining...me. I have dedicated my adult life to making this art form myself, albeit on a small stage, but I want my kids to see why I love it so. I want them to understand what a great piece of theatre does to me, spiritually, and what it does to me as a human. I have often said that I'm my best self when I'm in charge of a theatre production. I'm organized like I never am elsewhere, I'm more thoughtful and listen more. I'm more gentle when leading. I laugh. It's what I think I do best.
"Hamilton" reminds me why I want to do that part of my life so well.
And I cannot wait to see it again.
I've made this about myself. Isn't that what theatre is supposed to do?
So. This may not be what others wanted me to write. It may be briefer than I expected it to be.
It's what the piece did to me.
Go, and let it do something to you.
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