The interludes in which our very own George III (Michael Jibson) pops up to pass sneering comment are hilarious, and come with an infernally catchy song, the lovely, Beatlesy ballad ‘You’ll Be Back’. We get the kinetic, virtuosic, info-heavy numbers. Miranda and Kail know exactly what buttons to press and when. The first half of the show has the most terrific sense of velocity I’ve ever experienced in a theatre production. But one of the strengths of ‘Hamilton’ is that it’s a rare musical that acknowledges real life is more complicated than heroes and villains: we see that Hamilton is a bit of a dick we know Burr was hardly evil. There’s a touch of Mozart-Salieri to their relationship. Pitched against him is silky smooth Giles Terera as Hamilton’s mentor and nemesis Aaron Burr, a smart, inscrutable career politician increasingly dismayed by the success of Hamilton’s unconventional methods. Relative newcomer Jamael Westman is a revelation in the title role: he can spit lines like a machine gun, sing like a dream, and being both young and prodigiously tall he perfectly channels Hamilton’s gaucheness, as the socially inept but relentlessly driven immigrant sets about trying to liberate and reform America with feather-ruffling vigour. If there were worries a Brit cast might struggle, they’re unfounded. Thomas Kail’s restaged Broadway production is confident but not flashy: a series of taut, almost tableaux-like scenes with a crisp, minimal set and choreography that allows the music, words and the striking figures of the cast – largely BAME actors in period dress – to take centre-stage. (NB there’s no need to swot up on your history – it tells you everything you need to know). It’s got a relentlessly catchy build and momentum, a crackling, edge-of-seat sense of drama, and is absolutely chockablock with information, as the key players stride on to bring us up to speed with the eventful life that Hamilton – the ‘bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman’ – led before he emigrated to America in 1772 as a teenager. ‘Alexander Hamilton’, the opening tune, exemplifies everything that’s great about the show. Put simply, it’s big emotions and big melodies from the former, and thrilling, funny, technically virtuosic storytelling from the latter. Here it works brilliantly, because Miranda – who wrote everything – understands what mainstream audiences like about hip hop, what mainstream audiences like about musical theatre, and how to craft a brilliant hybrid. You probably already know that it’s a hip hop musical, something that’s been tried before with limited success. That’s because lost in some of the more waffly discourse around its diverse casting and sociological import is the fact that ‘Hamilton’ is, first and foremost, a ferociously enjoyable show. If anything – and I’m truly sorry to say this – Lin-Manuel Miranda’s musical about Alexander Hamilton, the first secretary of the US Treasury, is actually better than the hype suggests. But there was a lot of hype around penicillin. Yes, it’s kind of a drag that there’s so much hype around it. Okay, let’s just get this out of the way.
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