"Hamilton" in Chicago

In the room where it happened — with Lin-Manuel Miranda 

Blow us all away. I always knew that’s what finally seeing Hamilton would do. Two years ago, almost to the day, I wrote about why the then relatively-new Broadway sensation had me feeling helpless. Like so many others, I obsessed, gushed & freaked the hell out over the genius that is Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Pulitzer prize-winning hip hop musical. 

But when they announced Hamilton was coming to Chicago, I didn’t pull the trigger immediately. Figured I’d wait for it, wait for it, wait. And Alexander was wrong — I didn’t get nothing by waiting. By some stroke of luck or cosmic intervention, the crowd at the November 11th 2pm show in Chicago got so much more than we ever bargained for. 




You see, Lin-Manuel Miranda was there. Just there. Sitting center-orchestra, somewhere around Row N. Him and his lil’ burgundy beanie. The murmur started small. I looked up to see folks in the balcony leaning over, iphones blazing. The murmur grew. “Some celebrity,” the lady next to me said. 

Then the rumor reached us in orchestra-left — Lin-Manuel. “No, it couldn’t possibly,” I scoffed. But then he rose to his feet. I rose to mine, in complete fangirl hysterics. Lin-Manuel smiled and humbly waved at the adoring crowd, his genuine spirit palpable. It lasted all of 10 seconds, maybe 20. He then sat back down and snapped a selfie with the lucky lady sharing his armrest. Can. You. Imagine.

We all tried to play it cool, knowing the man himself was sitting right there as the curtain rose on his own masterpiece. Getting swept up in Hamilton takes all of two seconds — “How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman…” It took my friends and I hours to digest all the things we loved and felt about this show, and while I won’t subject you to each and every nuance, I can’t fathom writing a traditional review either. There’s no point. You already know it’s going to be all fawning and flattery. So instead, for the sake of my personal memory bank, I’ll share some of what struck me most. 

First, there’s the visual spectacle, which all the incessant listening and lyric-memorizing in the world couldn’t have prepared me for. The delicious cocktail that is Hamilton’s Tony award-winning choreography, lighting design, scenic design, and costume design gives the audience a buzz like no other. The action is non-stop. There’s so much happening on the rotating stage that it’s hard to know where to look — in the best way. The dancers' movements are modern and precise, often framing the scene, acting as props, or serving to bring physical props on and off stage with artful grace.

One of the most effective and riveting bits of choreography is the manipulation of time throughout the show. Dancers reel backward to suggest a rewinding of time, move in slow-motion to suspend moments in time, and freeze to halt the clock altogether, giving certain doomed characters more time than they’d otherwise have. It’s spell-binding. 

What I noticed first about the lighting is the way in which it serves to highlight the strong curves of the dancers’ bodies and their cream-colored costumes. There are moments when the blinding white of the illuminated troupe beautifully punctuates the scene. The second thing to note about lighting is the way it highlights key moments in the story — mainly death. There’s a single bright light on Philip following his duel, reminiscent of the death of Enjolras and Gavroche in Les Miserables. And the final moment of the show hinges entirely on a bright, heaven-sent light shining down on Eliza — an inspired and unspeakably moving finish. 

Seeing Hamilton as a whole work of art, it becomes so much more than voices on a recording. The experience of it flows so effortlessly that time positively flies and you wish that, like the actors on stage, you too could manipulate the minutes and make them last. 

Reflecting back, it struck my friends and I that the first and second halves of the show differ entirely in tone — the first feeling lighter and full of promise, and the second delivering a slew of tender, tearful moments. What’s remarkable is the way in which Lin-Manuel Miranda paced these moments, never failing to keep up the energy of the show. He even winks at the audience when things are feeling a little too bleak: “Can we get back to politics? — Please!” 

While I could go on and on about Hamilton in the abstract sense, I have to close with a shout out to the phenomenal Chicago cast. Miguel Cervantes, be still my heart. Pure-voiced with the perfect blend of smarts and swagger, the man is a quintessential Alexander Hamilton. Sorry Lin-Manuel, but Cervantes wins this rap battle! We also swooned for Ari Afsar, whose softer take on Eliza hit all the right notes. 

Chris De’Sean Lee, Wallace Smith, and José Ramos as Lafayette & Jefferson, Mulligan & Madison, and Laurens & Philip, respectively, killed it. I’ve got a new place in my heart for “The Story of Tonight” thanks to those fine gentleman. Finally, I’ve gotta give it up for Alexander Gemingnani, our pouty, petulant King George. This is a character whose delivery remains mostly a mystery when just listening to the original cast recording; seeing the expressions and twitches from Gemingnani made an already-funny part all the more hilarious. 

It’s safe to say I’ll never forget my first time. I mean, as if the show wasn’t unforgettable enough on its own merits, there’s also the Lin-Manuel Miranda factor. It blows my mind that I’ll always be able to say that the first time I saw Hamilton, Lin-Manuel was there. And I truly see this as just the first of many Hamilton viewings. After all, this show is going to run forever. I like to consider the very last lines Eliza sings as a sort of invitation for us all: “Oh I can’t wait to see you again — it’s only a matter of time.”