I finally saw Hamilton.
Not Rip, not Zendon, not Thomas, not Joe, not Billy.
No, I saw Alexander Hamilton, or Hamilton—or, AL-EX-AN-DER-HAM-IL-TON!, as it’s said throughout the filmed version of the hit musical currently streaming on the Disney+ app.
It was a day I honestly thought would never happen. Hamilton has been part of the cultural zeitgeist for years now, but I was determined that it would live there without me. I had no real reason to be a Hamilton hater, I just sort of found myself in that position and decided to take up residence.
When Hamilton debuted in New York City at the Richard Rodgers Theater all the way back in 2015, it immediately became a hot ticket. I was living in NYC at the time, and knew it was becoming something huge when you’d see tourists crowding onto the subway wearing Hamilton merch. It became a big deal, fast, and Lin-Manuel Miranda, the show’s creator, quickly achieved ubiquity in NYC.
Because my wife worked in the music/entertainment industry, she knew people who knew people, and she asked if I wanted to go see Hamilton. It wouldn’t be easy to get a couple of tickets, but if it was something that we really wanted to do, she was willing to put in the work to try and make it happen.
And for reasons I can’t totally defend, even today, I said, No.
Everyone else was bending over backward for a ticket, but I just didn’t want to be that person. Somehow, I figured I could survive without seeing Hamilton. Without posting a picture to Instagram that said something about being in “the room where it happens,” with my Playbill visible in the foreground. Without spending hundreds or even thousands of dollars on StubHub. Hamilton may have been changing the world, but I wasn’t going to change my world to go and see it. Haters gonna hate (hate, hate, hate, hate), I guess.
The thing is, I was uniquely positioned to be a fan of Hamilton. My mother has always been a huge Broadway fan, so I grew up with show tunes playing in the car or at home. I’ve seen dozens of musicals on the stage, from Evita to Les Miz to West Side Story, so I don’t think it’s weird when people sing (or rap) instead of talk. I’ve also always had an interest in American history and hip-hop, literally the two things that define Hamilton.
Still, my gratuitous reluctance to see Hamilton found some real confirmation when the official cast album was released. I fired it up on Spotify, and after the third AL-EX-AN-DER-HAM-IL-TON!, I turned it off. Another friend, a playwright himself, told me he’d seen Hamilton and he thought the hype was too much. That was all I needed to hear. Sure, millions of people saw the show and loved it, but what did they know? I may not be elite at every life skill, but being a contrarian is one of my most prodigious talents.
So, I passed on Hamilton. Eventually, all the members of the original cast left Hamilton, and versions of the show started popping up around the country. I left New York for Memphis, and Hamilton followed me, settling in for a sold-out run downtown at the Orpheum. With time, the show slipped from the center of the entertainment world’s spotlight, but it still remained relevant. And I remained unwilling to find a way to consume Hamilton.
Until a few days ago, when I finally sat down and watched it from start to finish. And of course, I loved it. The story, the music, the Broadway moments, the performances (particularly Daveed Diggs)—I got it. With the context of the actors and the costumes and the lights and the audience, the AL-EX-AN-DER-HAM-IL-TON! didn’t seem so weird. The moment they launched into the “Ten Duel Commandments,” I smiled at the nod to Biggie. The day after watching Hamilton, I found myself floating in the pool humming the “Da-da-da-da…” part of King George’s song.
Hamilton made me think about a lot of things, from American history to patriotism to diversity to the hip-hop industry to the nature of citizenship. Our world changes quickly these days, and it’s impressive how even in the midst of the cultural and racial reckoning we are in right now, a show that debuted half a decade ago still clearly speaks to the topics being discussed culturally today. Maybe the show is a reflection of society, or maybe society is reflecting the themes raised by Hamilton. It’s not a perfect show, and there are a few historical plot holes of varying size and importance. At the end of the day, Hamilton makes you think, and it challenges you, which is the mark of the very best art.
The day after my family watched Hamilton, I told my wife that I had to admit that I’d really enjoyed it. Sometimes honesty is not the best policy, it seems, as my admission brought about a discussion (lecture?) around how my wife had missed the opportunity to see the original staging of Hamilton because of, well, me. I argued that she could have gone with a friend if she cared that much about it, but quickly realized this was an argument I could not win.
Still, it wasn’t a total loss. A few years after Hamilton debuted, a friend of mine invited my family to a movie screening Lin-Manuel Miranda hosted to benefit a theater in the Washington Heights neighborhood where he grew up. We had the chance to meet him before the show, and my son unilaterally decided that one of the most decorated entertainers of all-time would be a perfect person to pull the ol’ “Gimme five, up high, down low, too slow” gag upon. To his credit, Mr. Miranda employed all of his acting skills and played along wonderfully. Someone snapped a picture in the moment, and while I don’t have a photo of me and my wife at the Richard Rodgers Theater in the room where it happens, I have this picture of my son yanking his hand away from Lin-Manuel, and everyone sharing a genuine laugh. It wasn’t a night out at a Tony Award-winning musical, but it was pretty great. It turns out that when millions of people almost unanimously agree on something, they’re probably correct.
My own obstinance kept me from experiencing Hamilton in the moment, but thanks to it being available now on a streaming service, at least I did not throw away my shot.