Hamilton (2020)

★★★1/2

When I was in elementary school, one of my favorite shows was an animated series on PBS called Liberty Kids. It followed the American Revolution through the eyes of two teens: one a daughter of a Loyalist family and the other a young man fighting for the revolution. This show got me so excited about the founding of America and the fight for independence in early United States history. What Liberty Kids did for me, Hamilton has done for a generation of young adults. Now, as a Disney + release,  Hamilton can even more widely instill this newfound fascination with American history and its parallels to today.

Although the hype surrounding Lin-Manuel Miranda's award-winning show has died down slightly since its initial Broadway run, Disney +'s release of a recording of the live show was always going to be a surefire hit. The catchy tunes and larger-than-life characters have been in the zeitgeist for years, even if going to the actual play was impossible for those not fortunate enough to snag a coveted ticket. 

Hamilton is the opposite of a David McCullough biography—it is lively, exuberant, and dramatic. It takes a lesser-known Founding Father and makes him cool. He raps, always speaks his mind, and is exceedingly clever. His story is narrated by Aaron Burr, Hamilton's eventual killer and Miranda's vehicle for highlighting Hamilton's fierce personality and strong opinions. Hamilton proclaims his beliefs without fear of the consequences; Burr is the consummate politician, seeking only to please others and push himself ahead. Other key players in Hamilton's life include his wife, Eliza Schuyler, and her sister, Angelica; prominent revolutionary figures such as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison; and lesser-known historical like John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and the Marquis de Lafayette. 

The story recounts Hamilton's childhood as an orphan who made his way from the Caribbean to the Colonies, his entry into the American Revolution, and his eventual rise and downfall as a political powerhouse in the early United States. Hamilton's actual accomplishments are rather hurridly described in favor of spending more time on Hamilton's character. Miranda is on the record stating that he chose to make a play about Alexander Hamilton because he saw Hamilton as embodying hip-hop: he is a moving writer and orator, brash and emotional, and too clever for his own good. Indeed, Hamilton as someone who is "young, scrappy, and hungry" makes him appealing and easy to root for, despite his flaws.

The trouble with transforming a theater performance to the big screen is generally two-fold: the inability to duplicate the "live" experience and the somewhat prohibitive length. Plays are written and performed with a live audience in mind. Recordings of those plays often fall flat, lacking the all-consuming feeling of actually being in the theater. Hamilton avoids this issue with masterful camera work. Close-ups of the performers actually enhance the viewing experience by demonstrating the stellar cast's acting ability. 

Second, Hamilton avoids the problems of length by varying the camera movements, allowing the motion on the screen to capture the viewer's attention. The nature of Hamilton also contributes to its fast pace. There is almost no spoken dialogue in the film. Nearly every line is either sung or rapped. The film switches seamlessly from traditional show tunes to hip-hop to jazz and everything in between. Just like Hamilton himself, the film is "non-stop."

Some may quibble with the historical accuracy of the play. Those people fail to understand the purpose of art—the artist does not seek to display a perfect recreation of reality, but rather to highlight and expand on reality's most beautiful, frightening, and important aspects. If you look outside at the night sky, it will look nothing like Picasso's "Starry Night." Similarly, Alexander Hamilton may not have really had a compelling love triangle with Eliza and Angelica. But he also did not engage in rap battles with Thomas Jefferson, nor was he Puerto Rican. The creative liberties Miranda takes in his portrayal emphasize Hamilton's most fascinating qualities: his immigrant spirit, determination, and wit. 

I could belabor the many particularly relevant themes of Hamilton, but one stands out to me among the rest. About halfway through, Washington explains to Hamilton that we can't control "who lives, who dies, who tells your story." Hamilton is constantly concerned with how history will remember him and the mark he will make on the world. He recognized the importance of what he and his compatriots were creating. We should too. It is absolutely essential that we concern ourselves with the past and our own role in American history. What will the future have to say about us? The only way to know is by looking into the past and learning of those who have gone before. Perhaps Hamilton's greatest contribution to the culture is its ability to ignite interest in American history and social activism. Just like Mr. Hamilton, we are not throwing away our shot.