My friend Erica just saw “Hamilton”
and is in danger of appearing a little obsessed. Like me. She’s the one who
gave me the cast recording, which I listened to many times before I saw the show. As Wesley Morris said
in his New York Times Magazine article, “To know someone who has this album is to know
someone who needs a restraining order.”
It’s wearing. For me to
ask Dr. D. to stand by saying, “Rise up!” “(Eyes up! Wise up!”) Those of you
singing along right now know who you are. To wake up not knowing if what’s playing
in your head will be “He got a lot farther by being a lot smarter/by working a
lot harder/by being a self-starter” or the deliciously smarmy King George
lines, “You’ll be back/wait and see/you’ll remember you belong to me.” I did
say obsession. Or maybe it’s more like possession--being possessed by the
songs.
Broadway and I have
history. A brief mention of something can find me leaping to “It’s been a real
nice clambake” or “you’re always sorry/you’re always grateful,” not always to
the delight of the other person in the room “where it happens/the room where it
happens.”
I love all those shows. I
consider Cole Porter’s lyrics the essence of sophistication. The music from “Carousel”
or “Oklahoma” makes me think how
revolutionary those musicals were when they first appeared. When I saw the
Broadway revival of “South Pacific” a few years ago, its commentary on racism, first
served up to an audience newly finished with World War II, felt even more
astounding seen in our current century. And Sondheim--what can I say? The
perfect voice for generations raised since Freud’s ideas became part of the air
we breathe. I even have a soft spot in
my heart for “1776,” an earlier well-intentioned but forgettable go at
portraying the Founding Fathers, for its rhyming of predicate and Connecticut.
(It’s better in the context of the song. Trust me.)
And now this
transformative musical that, thanks to the recording, has a reach far beyond
the Richard Rodgers Theatre. Ok, possessed…obsessed….I’m there.
(An aside-- proof it’s
not just me::
Me to Erica—I’m crazy
about Daveed Diggs.
Erica, before seeing “Hamilton”:
Who’s Daveed Diggs?
Erica, after seeing “Hamilton”:
I see what you mean about Daveed Diggs.)
Lin-Manuel Miranda’s
brilliant show has also made me think about how much the brilliance of hugely gifted
people adds to my life. Dr. D and I recently heard Matthew Aucoin’s settings
for several James Merrill poems. We saw Maya Lin’s moving River of Pins , which can’t really be adequately conveyed
by a photograph. I read Linda Pastan’s newest collection of poems and thought,
with awe, of how she continues to cover the same ground, poem after poem, book
after book, going deeper rather than repeating herself, never failing to offer
new insight, new understanding, new mysteries. I read Ron Chernow’s biography of
Hamilton before I saw the show, and
that, too, is unforgettable, and impossible to put down, which is a little inconvenient
since it’s 700-plus pages. What touches me, what reaches out and makes me feel lucky
to experience these and other wonderful works is the passion with which they
are created.
I am filled with
gratitude.
And I would probably earn
the gratitude of those around me if I could just rein in my Hamilton habit a
little. (“I wish I could say that was the last time/I said that last time/ It
became a pastime.”) Maybe if I just think of all those amazing works of art
that I am grateful to have seen and heard and read, I can find the antidote to
my obsession by thinking about—(oh no!)--”what they did for love…..”
Labels: " Matthew Aucoin, "Hamilton, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Linda Pastan, Maya Lin, Ron Chernow
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