Young Geniuses

Hamilton at the Public Theater

 

Lin-Manuel Miranda as Alexander Hamilton in Hamilton.

            Try if you may to describe Hamilton, the new musical by and starring Lin-Manuel Miranda now running at the Public Theater through April 5.  To call it perfect is simplistic.  It is sublime, a testament to the supreme creative power of Mr. Miranda and, indeed, the American people.  It exists outside the boundaries of reasonable expectations for musical theater; it is the best offering of this season, of any in recent memory, and, some might argue, of any season at all.  To any embittered malcontent who may find fault with this objectively staggering offering from the man who may well be the greatest musical theater artist working today, I am reminded of Shakespeare’s meter in King John: “To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, / To throw perfume on the violet… Is ridiculous excess.”  Hamilton cannot be improved.  I loved it so much I feel almost indecent discussing it.

            Our principals are, naturally, Alexander Hamilton (Miranda), a West Indian immigrant who rose by virtue of his own brilliance to the position of our nation’s first Secretary of the Treasury; Hamilton’s loves — his wife Eliza (Philippa Soo) and sister-in-law Angelica (Renée Elise Goldsberry); and Hamilton’s political nemesis and eventual killer, Aaron Burr (Leslie Odom, Jr.).  These are our guides through the ethereal wonderland, some fantastical intersection between the Secretary’s mind and the real world of the eighteenth century from the Revolution to 1804, that Mr. Miranda has built over these past six years.  And what guides!  Mr. Miranda is, as usual, in top form onstage — his actorly integrity combined with a highly intelligent flow contribute jointly to a star turn to match or exceed his winning portrayal of convenience store manager Usnavi in 2008’s In the Heights (which he also composed).  Ms. Soo and Ms. Goldsberry are bewitching and deeply felt, and Ms. Goldsberry especially offers a preview of what is sure to be a long and rewarding career — she sings the hell out of anything she’s given. 

            As for Mr. Odom, I am at a loss for words.  Together he and Mr. Miranda make Burr not a one-dimensional villain but a tragic hero, held back by his own reticence and natural proclivity to play it close to the vest (his first solo number, after all, is a tour de force called “Wait for It”).  This Aaron Burr, like Judas in Andrew Lloyd Weber’s Jesus Christ Superstar, narrates the piece, and the dramaturgical intelligence of this decision is confirmed during a scene where Hamilton trades away the rights to the geographical location of the country’s new capital in exchange for the votes for his new financial plan.  Burr, stuck on the outside looking in once again, snaps, and performs one of the many candidates for the score’s best song, “The Room Where it Happens,” which instills a drive for power which leads, eventually, to the downfalls of both Hamilton and Burr.  Don’t get me wrong — I can’t stop thinking about Mr. Miranda’s performance, either.  But In the Heights could have been a one-man-show without jettisoning any really important numbers or dramatic development.  With Hamilton, Mr. Miranda has written a showcase for the best ensemble on the stage today with the finesse of someone much later in his career than he.

            And first and foremost among this ensemble are two phenomenally talented men who, when this show transfers to Broadway, will be giving Mr. Odom a run for his money in the Best Supporting Actor department. 

            The first — After leaving the Public in a state of semi-dazed exuberance, my first thought was that I wished I could have spent more time with two of Mr. Miranda’s characters—the exquisitely French Marquis de Lafayette and the flamboyant, grandstanding Thomas Jefferson.  How convenient for posterity’s sake that they are both portrayed by rapper Daveed Diggs, whose incredible dedication to his roles and audience-pleasing comic dexterity will ensure his permanent welcome on the stage should he choose to return to it. 

            The second — Oh, the second.  There are certain performers in this world whose mere presence on a stage, even if it should last only a few minutes, guarantees their immediate association with the production.  People like this are called “showstoppers.”  And if this show can be stopped, it is stopped by Bryan D’Arcy James.   Mr. James spends maybe ten minutes on the stage as King George III, the prim, pompous monarch who watches from afar as control of the colonies slips away.  “You’ll Be Back,” his signature number, is written with the assurance of Paul McCartney’s best pop-inflected numbers from the early sixties, and performed with the clear-voiced delivery of, well, Brian D’Arcy James.  You’ll leave the theater humming “You’ll Be Back,” but Mr. James’s brief minutes breezily stopping by the show will stay with you longer than any earworm.

            The theatrical devices employed in this sung-through masterpiece are too numerous to name.  I was particularly partial to cabinet-meeting rap battles between Hamilton and Jefferson, the wonderfully staged ten-pace duels (there are several), and especially the cultural references, which are surprisingly many.  I caught lines lifted lovingly from South Pacific, The Pirates of Penzance, The Last Five Years, 1776 (to which this musical’s parade of quirky founding fathers could be endearingly compared), and Mr. Miranda’s own In the Heights.  This is a winking acknowledgement of the unique territory this musical occupies — historically self-referential in a more blatant way than other period pieces have ever been.  (After a dramatic love scene, Jefferson flounces on-stage and complains, “Can we get back to politics?”)

            This is because the musical is all about preparing for your portrayal in the history books.  Hamilton succeeds in preserving his legacy because he is reckless and non-stop in pursuit of his goals, while more reserved characters like Burr end up with their names in the proverbial gutter.  “I am not throwing away my shot,” Hamilton repeatedly mutters.  The knowledge that “History Has Its Eyes on You” (as one of the song titles puts it) is prevalent, too, in 1776; the story is so familiar that we can’t conceive of the founding fathers being unsure that their tales wouldn’t be told hundreds of years later.  But from where I stand, this attitude comes naturally to Mr. Miranda because he is so appealingly aware of his own talent, like Sondheim in his day (and now, frankly).  He knows he’s good because he, like we lucky few, have seen Hamilton, and have no doubt that the advent of a historically important artist is at hand, and that we are witnessing the premiere of what may be his most important work.