Interludes

THE HANGOVER REPORT – “Hamilfilm”: The original cast and production of HAMILTON are masterfully captured on film

• By drediman
• July 4, 2020
• No Comments

Lin-Manuel Miranda leads the company of “Hamilton” on Broadway. Photo by Joan Marcus.

Last night, I caught the filmed version of the smash hit musical Hamilton (lovingly referred to as “Hamilfilm” by the film’s producers and the show’s many fans) on Disney Plus. Filmed live on Broadway in 2016 just a few days after Lin-Manuel Miranda’s magnum opus triumphed at the Tony Awards and shortly before the original cast started departing the production, the presentation attempts to capture the magic of the theatrical experience. It mostly succeeds. In short, the film – although it can’t replace the visceral experience of sitting in the audience of the Richard Rodgers Theatre – comes as close to capturing lightning in a bottle as I think possible. Disney allegedly purchased the rights to stream this “live capture” film for a whopping $75 million (Mr. Miranda retains the rights to any future cinematic adaptations of the work), which seems like quite the sum of moolah. But this is Hamilton after all, which remains even after half a decade after opening on Broadway – for better or worse – as vital and relevant as ever in terms of content and medium. With the Black Lives Matter movement recently taking center stage and the abrupt nation-wide shutdown of live theater, Disney’s streaming of Hamilton couldn’t come at a more ripe nor needed time.

The work itself continues to be a marvel. By recasting America’s origins story primarily through actors of color and a contemporary pop vocabulary, Mr. Manuel gives agency and accessibility to huge swaths of the nation’s population. This in and of itself would be cause for celebration and promotion. But simply as a piece of theatrical craftsmanship, Hamilton is a masterwork. For me, that the story is told through the hip-hop/rap vernacular is secondary to the sheer brilliance of the work’s rock solid construction and seemingly endless invention. Each song pushes the narrative forward with such intoxicating vigor that it’s hard not to be swept up in the musical’s uncanny ability to depict history unfolding before your eyes (perhaps at the consequence of some character depth). Despite its upbeat, propulsive storytelling, Hamilton is a sobering chronicle of the flawed processes and personalities that drive progress (even Hamilton himself isn’t exempt from the equation). Like Valjean and Javert’s cat-and-mouse relationship in Les Misérables, the musical’s painstaking articulation of the dance-like tension between Hamilton and Burr’s diametrically opposing philosophies is the backbone that keeps the nearly three hour show dramatically centered. Mr. Miranda is also well-versed in musical theater history, and he has tantalizingly planted a number of referential Easter Eggs throughout his work for fans of the form.

Thomas Kail, the stage production’s director, repeats his directorial duties for the film. Judging from the well-balanced and often inspired camera angles he’s chosen (a nice variety between wide-angle, aerial, and closeup shots), it’s clear from the get-go that he’s intimately familiar with the nooks and crannies of his own staging. There are obvious benefits to the show’s new format, including a crisp audio feed (the rapid fire lyrics are crystal clear, which isn’t necessarily always the case in the theater), as well as the ability to clearly see facial expressions. Although the film does a masterful job of giving the viewer a sense of the scale and kinetic energy of the production – the show is in constant whiling motion, especially with the element of the constantly revolving turntable in the mix – one of the drawbacks of the medium is the inherent inability for viewers to appreciate the full breadth of Andy Blankenbuehler’s dynamic and indispensable choreography. Which brings us to the audience, which Mr. Kail has treated somewhat like an afterthought. Since the audience consistently remains outside the camera’s frame, the ovations after each of the musical’s train of showstopping numbers curiously register like sitcom laugh tracks. A nice touch would have been to show the buzz in the auditorium before, during (e.g., at intermission), and after the show. Even the show’s Broadway home, the Richard Rodgers, seems strangely absent from the film, without even a glimpse of the theater’s marquee.

But I’m nit-picking here. How lucky are we at this juncture to be treated to such a gift (thank you Disney for moving up the release from the initially-slated fall theatrical release date). And as a document of the rightfully-lauded performances of the already legendary original company, the film is an invaluable artifact. Indeed, the performances are as stellar as I remember them. Coming across most effectively onscreen are the Tony-winning Leslie Odom, Jr. as Aaron Burr (the musical’s most visible narrator) and the radiant Phillipa Soo as Eliza Schuyler (aka Mrs. Hamilton). Mr. Odom’s ticking time bomb of a performance is simply sensational; of all the actors in the role I’ve seen over the years, no one else has dug deeper into Burr’s fascinating psyche than this fine singing actor. As for Ms. Soo, the delicate, heartfelt nuances of her quietly steely performance benefit beautifully from the cinematic treatment. But really, the rest of the cast is just spectacular – from Mr. Miranda’s invigorating turn in the mammoth title role, to the commanding presence of Christopher Jackson (as George Washington) and the Tony-winning Renée Elise Goldsberry (as Angelica Schuyler), to the rich character work of Jasmine Cephas Jones (as Peggy Schuyler/Maria Reynolds), Anthony Ramos (as John Laurens/Philip Hamilton), and of course Daveed Diggs (a Tony-winner as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson). Their work remains unmatched to this day. Last but not least is the integral ensemble, one of the most talented, hardest-working bunch of hoofers on the Great White Way.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

HAMILTON
Musical / Film
Available for streaming on Disney Plus
2 hours, 40 minutes