As it returns to Chicago over three years after its initial multiyear run here, “Hamilton” remains a show as essential as ever, its meaning — or meanings — even more urgent than when it premiered at the Public Theater in 2015 on its way to accolades and hype galore.
But this touring version raises the concern that the producers now prioritize a certain level of corporatized consistency over performative inspiration.
It’s still great, but it just doesn’t feel as young, scrappy and hungry as it used to.
Like so many, I adored “Hamilton” when it debuted and still do.
Not so much because of its fully realized craft but because of something more obvious and yet deeper. Lin-Manuel Miranda’s take on Alexander Hamilton’s life — based on Ron Chernow’s book and covering his immigration from the Caribbean, his revolutionary zeal, his time at the side of George Washington during the Revolutionary War, his involvement in drafting and defending the Constitution, his establishment of the Federal Reserve Bank as the country’s first Treasury secretary, along with his marriage, scandal, personal loss and death by duel — focuses on how Hamilton’s immigrant otherness propelled his full-bodied investment in the American experiment.
Miranda didn’t intellectualize or thematize about the connection between the nation’s Founding Fathers and today’s America. He expressed it fully by having people of color embody Hamilton, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and others, some who enslaved people, without a winking ironic distance.
In doing so, he claimed the positive qualities of these founders for a new generation, even as he made them accessible with contemporary hip-hop, jazz and pop. The multiracial casting says it without saying it in words: We’re all closer to these dead white guys than we think, and they, and their legacies, belong to all Americans.
This shockingly uncynical take on messy history and the importance of shared governance, still inspires.
In today’s climate, it also feels refreshing and a reminder that running a country is even harder than revolution, done as it is by flawed and often self-interested people who just have to keep trying to find a way forward. There are no easy answers to the challenges we face today, challenges that still reflect what Hamilton and Jefferson argued about almost 250 years ago (although they didn’t do it as a rap battle), such as which foreign entanglements to participate in and how to manage the national debt.
The lasting essentialness of this show is why I felt a twinge of concern — not disappointment yet, just a creeping worry — that the touring version seems smaller even though it isn’t (though this is a larger theater than when it played here last time) and with a slightly diminished sense of physical energy (to be fair, I was seeing the second show of the day). Perhaps it’s simply familiarity (this is my fifth time seeing the show), but I don’t think so.
There is no weak link in this fine ensemble, but there aren’t extraordinary standouts, either, only excellent moments for many.
As Hamilton, Pierre Jean Gonzalez becomes stronger as the show goes on. His Hamilton is almost impetuous over eloquent at the start — I paused at the line, “Let’s get this guy in front of a crowd,” when it didn’t yet seem apparent why. But, as the character achieves, Gonzalez takes on the gravitas that comes with accomplishment.
Playing Aaron Burr — Hamilton’s eventual killer, who changes the most over the course of the story — Deon’te Goodman brings a surprising emotional vulnerability to the role and a beautifully smooth voice. His highlight is the sweet song to his daughter “Dear Theodosia,” rather than the usual showstopper, “The Room Where It Happens.”
But in this Burr, I just never see either the charm or the confidence that makes his political rise seem possible.
And Marcus Choi’s George Washington brings a terrific sense of command and the wisdom that comes from wear. But the gorgeous (and so darn relevant) “One Last Time,” in which Washington announces that he is — voluntarily and peacefully! — leaving office, doesn’t soar melodically or provide the emotional punch it has before.
Still, these are all solid performances, along with Nikisha Williams’ calming Eliza Schuyler and the welcome playfulness from Neil Haskell as King George III and Jared Howellton as Jefferson.
Eight years since its premiere, this is still the show to see.
