This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at BU chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.
Well, never meet your heroes.
Last week, I went on a Boston University study abroad social programme trip to see Hamilton at the Victoria Palace Theatre. It’s one of my favorite shows, something I grew up singing in the car with my cousins (I know, what an image). When I was in high school AP US History, I relied an embarrassing amount on the soundtrack. I just found the catchy, informational lyrics to be the perfect way to organize what I was learning.
In terms of performance level, I have to say I was a little underwhelmed by this cast. Not to compare directly to the original powerhouse crew, but in general, I found the vocals to be lacking. What made me most nervous was the number of lyrics that were missed by the cast; it felt empty at the best times, and clearly a forgotten line at the worst times.
Burr, coincidentally looking like an off-brand version of Lin-Manuel Miranda, sang in a slightly higher range than usual. Jefferson just couldn’t match the suave effortlessness that Daveed Diggs introduced, and his raps were barely keeping up with the time.
Because I wasn’t thrilled with the lead actors, I found myself watching the show in a different way than I have before. I paid close attention to the ensemble cast, admiring the intense choreography and moments of personification.
There’s also James Reynolds, the actor Philip interrupts, and of course, King George. Now, the king has a lot of great comedic moments, something the iconic and… spitty Jonathan Groff perfectly embodied in the musical’s Disney+ release.
I found it hilarious to be watching the show, so heavily centered on the American Revolution and its key players, in the country those men fought to be rid of. The running gag of it being the king’s play, his childish and power-hungry emotion, and his subsequent ridicule of Hamilton’s downfall never fails to make me laugh.
This time, his words stung. “When your people say they hate you, don’t come crawling back to me.” I looked at the Boston University students seated around me… in London. He’s talking about us.
Now, do I consider myself to be crawling back to jolly Old England? I will be the first to admit — not to be dramatic or anything — that each time I look at political headlines, I want to shrivel up into a raisin and be eaten by a bird.
At the same time, I have been feeling like a bad citizen. I tried to vote, I really did. I filled out the absentee ballot form as the nice elderly Americans instructed me to do the first week here. As far as I remember, my ballot was supposed to reach me via email. Well, that did not happen.
Some part of the process must have worked, because my parents didn’t receive it back in California. But other than that, it was lost to the political ether. Great!
Okay, so we’ve covered voting. Or the failure of my voting.
Beyond that, I’d say I’m doing a fairly decent job. I read the occasional news story. Let me rephrase, I read what Instagram tells me. My feed has gotten pretty political, so I think this is good enough for not actually being in the U.S.
Does physical distance from the critical issues of my home justify mental distance? At least I am not turning a blind eye. I am not in ignorant bliss; I am in pain because while I am here, having a great time (and able to have a good time), other people aren’t so lucky.
Even through privileged, distanced activities like watching Hamilton — something I’m safe enough to nitpick in this little review — the sense of how wrong everything feels still hits hard. I started tearing up when George Washington sang about his goals for the nation. It feels like we’ve lost our way.
At the same time, I don’t claim that the United Kingdom is in much better shape. The comparisons are becoming clearer. Recently, the Reform Party rose to power, championing an anti-immigrant manifesto. I’ve seen a few of their marches, and many participants are even wearing Trump memorabilia.
They wave British and English flags, to the extent that whenever I see one, I associate it with the party’s stance. It’s not dissimilar to the current use of the American flag, meant to represent all but corrupted by one side.
“Immigrants, we get the job done.” The crowd didn’t cheer nearly as much as I wished at that line.
I think that’s part of the beauty of shows like Hamilton that draw on historical events; it doesn’t matter that the setting is American, that the main characters are American, that the points of view represented are anti-England, or at least anti-colonial monarchy.
The show carries profound and highly applicable themes of ambition, honor, forgiveness, reputation, and a universally deserved future. The world is wide, and we can all use these lessons right now.
History has its eyes on us.
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