Skip to main content

The "Hamilton" Notes

Like many others, I have been fascinated by the storm surrounding "Hamilton" right now. I have read debates about minute details, and as (maybe?) a public service, I'm compiling what I know:

*One camp says it's wrong to elide questions of slavery, make people seem more heroic than they are, etc. Another camp says, This is fan fiction. It's a fantasy. It's not a work of history. Distortions are permissible.

*Maya Phillips, of the NYT, had one of the more-interesting questions: If Miranda doesn't need to follow the rules of history, then why can't he make the women more active and more compelling? If George Washington can be re-cast as a saint, then why can't Angelica have a role in one of the rap battles? (I liked this.)


*Very few people enjoy the Sally Hemings moment. A counterargument: Miranda knew he was showing Jefferson's ugliness, and he wanted to have that awkwardness at the top of Act II as further evidence of Jefferson's villainy. A counter to the counterargument: Jefferson was raping Hemings when she was fourteen (or close to that), and the slapstick moment in Miranda's Act II just doesn't "cut it."

*NPR: We would have preferred to see Javier Munoz in the movie. He was sexier than Lin-Manuel, and he had a better voice.

*Jason Katzenstein: There is nothing epic about the founding of America; this was a tragic moment for the world. The founders were bad people. When Hamilton says, "I'm just like my country...." it's a shocking "self-own" moment--and not in the way Miranda intended.

I loved watching "Hamilton" a second time. Food for thought.....

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...