During Thanksgiving dinner in 2014, my brother kept bringing up this play he planned to see
in previews: a hip-hop musical about the rise and fall of America’s first treasury secretary,
Alexander Hamilton.
Due to the strangeness of the idea, I assumed I would never hear about it again.
Of course, I was wrong.
Hamilton has found a prominent place in popular culture that only a handful of Broadway shows
have been able to do in modern times.
It has been the center of praise and controversy, and it's been labeled as everything from the
reinvention of theater to highly overrated, but regardless of what’s been said about
the show, it’s stayed in the public's conscious since its debut.
As the production has grown in notability, the quick pitch my brother gave me—which
I’ve since heard from dozens of news outlets, countless celebrities, and the show’s creator
and star, Lin-Manuel Miranda—no longer seems so weird.
And the question I keep coming back to is “why?”
Why has this play that seems too specific and too niche to succeed become so widely
accepted?
A classification as particular as ‘historical hip-hop musical’ runs the risk of only appealing
to people who are interested in the intersection of the three; however, Hamilton’s audience
goes far beyond that.
It seems to be constructed in a way where it can be appreciated for any of its bases,
making it accessible to anyone interested in hip-hop OR musicals OR historical fiction;
it isn’t dependent on people being fans of all three.
Instead of constricting the potential audience, its blending of genres has created more entry
points, expanding its reach.
And, most importantly, the general consensus has been that the show does justice to each
of its bases, which has given it staying power.
Like most other music that sees a lot of success, Hamilton is catchy; from a lyrical standpoint,
it manages to do so by using and combining popular conventions of both musicals and hip-hop,
and honestly it all kind of boils down to repetition.
A common feature of musicals are lyrical motifs, which are repeated ideas and phrases often
tied to a certain character or situation, and Hamilton takes this to another level.
Just about every major character has at least one lyrical motif associated with them that
develops and changes in meaning throughout the play.
They’re pivotal to a lot of character arcs, making them impossible to forget.
The central conflict, revolving around Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr’s lifelong rivalry,
is highlighted by their lyrical motifs with Hamilton’s being “I am not throwing away
my shot” signifying his refusal to pass up opportunities, and Aaron Burr’s being
variations of the phrase “Wait for it” showing his reluctance to dedicate himself
to a particular stance before knowing it is the absolute best course of action.
The two live by these opposite tenants throughout the entire show, until their eventual duel
where Hamilton literally throws away his shot by raising his gun straight in the air, and
Burr in a rare impulsive act, fires first.
This is the most prominent crossing of contrasting motifs in the show, but it is far from being
the only one.
The moments when the motifs contrast with each other and transfer between characters
are powerful, and each relationship centers around these ideas coming to odds with each
other.
In regard to the lyrical structure of individual songs, Hamilton uses a lot of staples of hip-hop—most
notably, with its use of internal rhyme.
Words and phrases constantly play off of each other through the repetition of similar consonant
(consonance) and vowel (assonance) sounds, leaving very few spaces that don’t have
some type of rhyme, whether it be partial or perfect:
And the level of care and skill that Lin-Manuel Miranda put into these lyrics is something
that other hip-hop artists have taken notice of:
“Sometimes in hip-hop we say ‘real recognize real.’
And I could recognize immediately that Lin was a real one.”
Getting this type of acceptance from other artists seems to have played a big role in
legitimizing Hamilton as a work of hip-hop.
Questlove and Black Thought ended up producing the cast album; artists including Common,
Busta Rhymes, and Chance the Rapper did features on the Hamilton Mixtape; and rappers ranging
from Talib Kweli to Jay-Z to Eminem attended the production, all showing some level of
support and recognition for it.
And it makes sense, because Hamilton is entrenched in the history and culture of hip-hop, and
acts as a celebration of the medium, which is a feat that seems nearly impossible for
a musical to pull off.
Regardless, it manages to be a love letter to hip-hop, while also being one to traditional
broadway shows.
There are a ton of allusions throughout the play, ranging from Mobb Deep:
To Pirates of Penzance:
Hip-hop has always been a genre that wears its influences on its sleeve, and this is
no different.
The references largely manage to not feel forced or hokey, and they help tie modern
struggles to those of a man who died over 200 years ago.
And ultimately, this is the job of historical fiction: bringing life and depth into a person
that is normally learned about in ways that lack those elements.
John Weidman: “In all the shows that Stephen and I have written together including Assassins,
you reach a point, I think, where the research is over, and you then invent the character
who actually existed in history.
But they live in kind of a penumbral area where they are who they were, but they are
also who you want them to be.”
And ultimately this is the job of historical fiction:
bringing life and emotional depth to a person who is normally learned about in a way that lacks those elements.
Miranda does this by tying it to hip-hop culture.
As he has stressed regularly, Alexander Hamilton’s life mirrors the classic rap story: a poor
kid with no status writes his way out of poverty and into prominence.
It’s familiar, and seeing this through line from 1776 to today shows that although so
much has changed over that time, the base idea of the American Dream hasn’t.
And the show’s casting, which has gotten a lot of press, both positive and negative,
further reflects that idea.
The roles of the Founding Fathers are cast primarily with black and latino actors, and
there are a lot of reasons that people have celebrated this choice, but in terms of making
it feel like a credible hip-hop show, the importance is simply that they cast actors
who would be most successful at performing the parts.
Talib Kweli put it best when talking about the actor playing Thomas Jefferson, Daveed
Diggs:
“'That’s an MC.
That’s not a traditional Broadway dude.
That’s a guy who raps and was put in this play because he raps.”
There are still plenty of traditional broadway actors in the show
, but the inclusion of an artist like Diggs who has a background
in rapping from his experimental trio, clipping, along with Lin-Manuel Miranda and Chris Jackson
both having a long history of freestyle rapping, helps make the music not feel sterilized or
robotic.
The performances and writing actually seem like they are done by people who know about
hip-hop.
The music, while watered down from traditional rap to better suit a Broadway production,
comes from a place that understands the genres that are being melded.
The musical styles of each song weren’t chosen brazenly; they each are used to get
a specific point across.
Like, Thomas Jefferson’s first song after coming back from France is a Jazz number,
signifying that he has fallen behind the times which has moved into rap; King George’s
tracks are sappy british pop, cementing them as break up songs between England and the
colonies.
And in the song “We Know,” where Hamilton is confronted by Aaron Burr, James Madison,
and Thomas Jefferson for suspicions of embezzling government funds, a hint of reggae can be
heard as a way to make fun of Hamilton for being born in the Caribbean.
The wide range of genres that the show utilizes allows it to establish complex moods that
are driven by viewer’s preexisting associations.
There is a clear and direct purpose for each style, and while this isn’t revolutionary
to musicals, it highlights a running theme with the composition of Hamilton, which is
that each element of the show is understanding of how it will affect the other elements.
Everything from the rhyme structure to the recurring motifs to the historical moments
covered to the actors playing these American legends to the genre choices of each song
not only solidly stand up on their own, but are also able to blend in ways that enhance
each other, making it greater than the sum of its parts.
It utilizes each aspect to create a well-balanced production that doesn’t pander to a specific
audience.
And ultimately, that is why Hamilton works.
It isn’t just trying to make history more interesting by using hip-hop, but it’s also
trying to make hip-hop more interesting by using history.
It sets all of these different entry points that help teach audiences about something
they may not have previously known, which creates a memorable experience.
Hamilton is a show that anyone from George W. Bush to Kanye West can appreciate, and
that fact in and of itself is praiseworthy.
There are certainly people who will never be able to get passed the initial, silly pitch
for the show, but the reason that so many have is because the broad range of subjects
that Hamilton covers has something familiar and unfamiliar for just about any audience
member, making it something worth digging into.