“Hamilton’s” Universal Appeal: A Writer’s Writer, Immigrant’s Immigrant (& a Christie’s Market Tie-In)

Belatedly, because I just got there on Saturday, I’m joining the “Hamilton” chorus.

One of the many mind-blowing strengths of Lin-Manuel Miranda‘s explosive rap opera is that it resonates on so many levels for so many different theatergoers.

It certainly strikes a chord with the young: Every actor’s rap aria was followed by loud, appreciative “woo-hoos!”—not your standard Broadway ovation. But while the audience skewed younger, it was almost devoid of minorities, notwithstanding the show’s overwhelmingly black and Latino cast.

“Hamilton’s” protagonists wrestle with the same political dichotomies that still vex us today, conveying instructive object lessons (“Miranda warnings”?) without belaboring them: Wall Street vs. Main Street; state’s rights vs. federal power; top-secret negotiations vs. transparency; “black lives matter” vs. oppressors; ideologues vs. pragmatists.

Attended by several U.S. Treasury Secretaries and President Obama (who on July 18 saw Miranda’s alternate, Javier Muñoz, in the starring role), this play could also give Donald Trump something to ponder: A killer punchline is Hamilton’s and Lafayette’s mutually congratulatory joint declaration: “Immigrants get it done!” (Nevis, West Indies, was the orphan Hamilton’s birthplace.)

Making Hamilton his hero, Miranda shakes up standard takes on our nation’s formative years, devaluing both Thomas Jefferson (who, after sitting out the Revolution in France, makes his prancing, preening grand entrance, singing, “What’d I Miss?”) and John Adams (the hero of that other founding fathers’ hit musical, “1776”).

For a writer like me, the central theme of this play has to be the power of the written word—a message that I’ve tried to pass on to my children, just as the playwright’s father, political consultant Luis A. Miranda Jr., apparently did for him.

Hamilton compulsively wields his mighty quill pen to fire off political essays, policy formulations and personal missives, as if time were too short to accomplish his far-reaching purposes. The writerly prowess of the playwright himself is nothing short of astounding in its rhythms, rhymes, word play and intellectual acuity.

But having seen “An American in Paris” on Broadway the week before, repeatedly cringing at how that overpraised jukebox musical (with bravura dancing by lead actor Robert Fairchild) diminished the tartness and sophistication of Gershwin’s beloved music, I wondered how true rap aficionados felt about “Hamilton.”

My own knowledge of rap is largely limited to Eminem (whose verbal virtuosity I admire as much as Miranda’s). That seminal rapper was acknowledged by the playwright as one of his “favorite polysyllabic rhyming heroes.” I was reminded of the riveting rap battle in Eminem’s 2002 film, “8 Mile,” when Jefferson and Hamilton had at each other in a witty political debate, with George Washington as arbiter:

Truth be told, Miranda-as-rapper is no match for Daveed Diggs, who plays both Jefferson and Lafayette. Diggs is professional hip hop artist with a group called “clipping,” and his punchy, rapidfire delivery leaves his fellow actors in the dust. Whether rap fans wince at Broadway’s taming of their art form (as I did at the diminution of Gershwin in “An American in Paris”) is something that only the faithful can attest to.

Somewhat hilariously, even Christie’s auction house is getting into the “Hamilton” act, touting as “a great find for fans of the Broadway musical” this otherwise undistinguished, modestly priced Portrait Bust of Alexander Hamilton, 1867, by Horatio Stone, which it will auction on Sept. 24:

This marble comes from the collection of Credit Suisse, suggesting Hamilton’s status as financial institutions’ favorite founding father and also bringing to mind Credit Suisse’s more celebrated Hamilton portrait, donated in 2013 to the Metropolitan Museum and Crystal Bridges Museum (which had displayed it, on loan from the investment bank’s board room, at its 2011 opening):

But the likeness of Hamilton that most resonates with me (aside from his endangered portrait on the $10 bill) is located not far from my home in New Jersey (a state that Miranda’s founding fathers take sardonic delight in ridiculing):

John Rapetti, the sculptor of the Weehawken bust, also worked with Frédéric Bartholdi on the Statue of Liberty and his name is engraved on its crown.

Maybe some enterprising American art gallery should organize “Hamilton, the Exhibition.” How about a related manuscript show at the Morgan Library & Museum or a history show at the New-York Historical Society?

There’s plenty of time for dealers and curators to load their pistols and take aim: This Broadway blockbuster definitely has legs!