(ALEXANDER) HAMILTON.

5 Feb 2018

I hate seeking medical advice as much as I hate being sick. Unfortunately, the last couple of weeks have got me into more serious trouble than I had light-heartedly anticipated/hoped and hello to the over-qualified general practitioner who, basing a diagnosis on no more than a swift touch of my hand, had prescribed a tad of Voltaren. I am wondering if she was just in a hilarious mood that morning and decided to sprinkle jokes on me because, two weeks on, not only has my knuckle got in more pain and more swollen it also went numb last night. I am scared now.

Anyway, since I badly want to go back to writing, if the site goes dark from time to time, that means my hand is dead.

What have you all been up to? Much fun? I am only asking because I didn’t need full use of my hand in order to go see Hamilton last week! No kidding – I’ve pictures to prove I was there, plopped in awesome seats with my former mother-in-law, the tickets for which I’d booked over a year prior because this is how organised I am when it comes to pop-culture and entertainment. And everyone’s like “was it worth it?”, “was it good?”. Please. My heart doesn’t melt at the sight of babies but it straight-up melted at the sight of Hamilton’s stage.

I’d first heard of the musical when it started its (most successful in history of Broadway) run in 2015 in NYC, but only because my pop-culture curiosities are never satisfied, and in this particular case they were “helped” by my finding out that both Saviour Beyoncé and the Regular Gods The Obamas had been to see it. However, when I ask the few friends of mine no one seems to have heard of it. So, I guess it’s one of the “if you know, you know” variety. Which is what makes it that much more incredible: here, in London, it is sold the f-ck out for over a year in advance.

But the timely snatching of the tickets is not the only prep I did, for this, I mean, if Beyoncé had dedicated time to seeing it, I had to have put maximum level preparation into going. With zero clues about who, or even what, Hamilton was I Googled, only to clear up absolutely nothing – my head couldn’t compute how/why anyone would express an interest in the story of an obscure political figure so I though Google must have been mistaken (yes, I did). Needless to say, holy sh-t, the story of Alexander Hamilton (omg I want to meet someone like him so badly), an American immigrant who by sheer work ethic and focus has done for the newly-independent America in 1770s more than its current orange of a president will be able to even conceive in thought. Hamilton’s rich, short life, as well as his achievements, is now lamented for all (who can get tickets) to learn and remember.

I had also familiarised myself with the Hamilton Mixtape since I’d heard that the music is THE focal part of the production. Can I just say please, that I will NEVER believe that all the musical numbers (as well as the story-telling) have come from one same man. It.Does.Not.Make.Sense. Lin-Manuel Miranda, I already knew I would love you after seeing your Moana cartoon but nothing had prepared me for the love I bear in my chest for you after seeing Hamilton. Marina+Lin-Manuel=Foreva. Let me go back to how amazing the music was: each song, most of them hip-hop, a genius wording backed by a flawless tune, a little bit of beat-boxing, a little bit of vocal drama, more than a little bit of humour and sadness – ALL is there. Even though I had given the Mixtape a casual listen before I went, I did not anticipate that it would end up in constant rotation in my headphones. I am, hands down, the most woke human on bus rides.

I obviously believe this musical is perfection for anyone, even when musical theatre is not ordinarily your jam (my 72-year-old female companion could hardly wait till the interval to declare that she would love to see it again the next day, if possible (it’s not)), but it is doubly (triple-y!), but I think the fascination specifically applies to those who are turned on by work ethic and achievement. Hello, it me, and that is why I can’t get out of the Hamilton/Llin-Manuel internet hole I have been in for the past 6 hours. Also, Alexander Hamilton had a wife, Elizabeth Schuyler, who outlived him by 50 years and built America’s first orphanage. Guess who Lin-Manuel Miranda has given the last word/song to in a story/musical about a man in politics? Lin-Manuel Miranda has decided that the last word must belong to a woman.

That, and the fact that the entire cast is made up of diverse ethnicity – George Washington, America's first president, is black. I don't know how much more I can love this.