by Kirk Woodward
[I’m
envious that Kirk has seen Hamilton because I haven’t yet. On the
other hand, though, I'm mighty glad, his having seen the hottest ticket in town,
that he’s elected o share some of his conclusions with ROT and its readers. I would feel that way even if Kirk had merely
written an ordinary report on the performance as he’s done before on occasion
(see “An American in Paris (Part 2),”
13 November 2015, and “Something Rotten!
1,” 11 May 2016—not that they’re really ordinary). But Kirk has carved out a
notion concerning the hip-hop musical which he says he hasn’t seen covered
before and has devoted “A Note About Hamilton” to discussing a fascinating angle on the play and the
production. In addition to being an
analysis of one aspect of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton, “Note” serves as a suggestion for playwrights of both musicals and
straight plays about freedom of expressive form.
[While
reading his article, a certain parallel to Kirk’s idea occurred to me, and
following his discussion, I’ll have a few thoughts to express myself. If you can manage to wait till then, consider
Kirk Woodward’s thoughtful examination of one element of Hamilton, albeit a central one, and see what you
think.]
One
cold day in November 2015 I walked from work to the box office of the Broadway
musical Hamilton and asked for the
next available tickets. I saw the show on that next available date, October 12,
2016.
Eleven
months isn’t all that long a time to wait to see a musical as good as Hamilton. It doesn’t need any more
praise from me; it’s gotten plenty already. It opened at the Richard Rodgers
Theatre on Broadway on August 6, 2015, after an initial sold out run at the Joseph
Papp Public Theater (January 20–May 3, 2015), and seems likely to run forever. It
has won an astonishing number of prizes, including eleven Tony Awards.
So
the show doesn’t need any help from me, but I do have one observation I haven’t
seen made elsewhere, although, considering the amount written about the show,
it probably has been made someplace. It’s difficult to describe, but I think it’s
worthwhile to consider.
As
everyone knows, Hamilton uses hip hop
musical styles, including extensive sections of rap music, as it tells the
story of the life of Alexander Hamilton (1755-1804), the nation’s first
Secretary of the Treasury. It’s not the first show to employ hip hop music; notably,
Lin-Manuel Miranda (b. 1980), the author and composer of the musical Hamilton, used rap extensively in his score
for the musical In the Heights, which
ran successfully on Broadway from 2008 to 2011.
Rap,
Salsa, and similar forms of music are appropriate musical forms for In the Heights, which takes place in the
largely Latino-populated Washington Heights area of Manhattan. However, hip hop
music was unknown during the lifetime of Alexander Hamilton, and for quite a
while afterward. Why is its use in Hamilton
so successful?
One
answer involves a theatrical phenomenon seldom seen and highly prized: the show
is embodied in an approach so surprising and yet so appropriate that it might
be described as a new theatrical language.
Instances
of this phenomenon are few and far between. The first of which I am aware is
Peter Brook’s unforgettable production of William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1970) for the
Royal Shakespeare Company. Brook used international circus techniques to embody
the magical elements of the play. (An example, a video of a few moments that I’ve
remembered since I originally saw the production, can be found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-XdfK0ntHwn.)
Brook
did not just come up with a “concept” for his production of the play; he
embodied the play in an entirely new “world” with its own “language.” Although
Shakespeare could not possibly have had Brook’s idea in mind, Brook’s
production seemed integral to the play, as though the story could hardly exist
without it.
The
same is true of Hamilton. One can imagine other plays about the
first Treasury Secretary’s life. In the musical, however, hip hop sensibility
and Hamilton’s sensibility seem to be one and the same. That unity of
presentation seems to me to be the factor that links an “interpreted” work like
Brook’s Midsummer Night’s Dream and an “original” work
like Hamilton: both seem to spring from the very essences of the
characters, instead of being imposed on them.
Directors
often come up with “concepts” for their productions. Frequently these end up
being nothing much more than new settings for the plays. That is not what
happens in Hamilton, which creates a
whole “world” in which its story exists.
The
difference between a “concept production” and a “new theatrical language” can
be seen in a production of A Midsummer
Night’s Dream that Jon Jory directed at Actors Theatre of Louisville (ATL)
in 1971, shortly after Brook’s production opened.
Whereas
Brook invented, in effect, an entirely new context for Shakespeare’s play
through the use of international circus techniques, Jory set his production in a circus. This kind of “concept,” described
by the critic Eric Bentley as a “Bright Idea,” imposes a setting on a play, and
seldom feels organic. Examples abound in opera, with, for example, Wagner’s
Ring Cycle playing host to Nazis, hippies, industrialists, and so on.
Jory’s
“concept” was imposed on Shakespeare’s play instead of
seeming to inhabit it, and the result was comic, as when, in the first act, the
lion tamer of the circus pleaded with the ringmaster to put his daughter to
death for falling in love with a roustabout – surely a first in circus history.
Jory
is a fine director, but at least with that production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream he fell into a trap that regularly
presents itself to directors in our time – to do something to, in effect, “make
a play interesting,” as though that were necessary for a play that is interesting, or possible to do with a
play that is not.
Still,
extraordinary artists do extraordinary things in theater. Julie Taymor (b.
1952) has demonstrated in her production of The
Lion King, which opened on Broadway in 1997, that she is one of them. So is
Peter Brook, and so without a doubt, at least in the case of Hamilton, is Lin-Manuel Miranda, a fact
that may go a long way toward explaining that musical’s popularity.
[With
regard to Kirk’s point, I agree: I don’t recall having read anyone else who’s
made this observation about Hamilton. I want to make a comment on
what I think he’s saying, however—in particular about Miranda’s using ”an
approach so surprising . . . that it might be described as a new
theatrical language.”
[I
ran an article on ROT
called “Similes, Metaphors—And The Stage” (18 September 2009) which I
followed with the republication of
a New York Times article by Robert
Brustein called “Reworking the Classics: Homage or Ego Trip?” (6 November 1988, sec. 2 [“Arts and Leisure”]:
5, 16; posted on ROT on 10 March 2011) on which my post was based.
What Kirk describes as Miranda’s “surprising approach” for Hamilton is encompassed by what I
contend Brustein means by theatrical metaphor. Note particularly Kirk’s
paragraph about the “world” Peter Brook created for Midsummer Night’s Dream and Brustein’s definition of theatrical
metaphor. (Brustein even uses Brook’s Midsummer as a prime example of metaphorical theater.) “Poetic
metaphor,” writes Brustein, “attempts to penetrate the mystery of a play in order
to devise a poetic stage equivalent” through which to generate “provocative
theatrical images . . . that are suggestive of the play rather than specific,
reverberant rather than concrete.”
[Kirk’s
dismissal of other “concepts” is what Brustein defines as “prosaic simile”
productions (and what a teacher of mine at Rutgers disparaged as “Hamlet on roller skates.”)
Brustein asserts that simile directors “assume that because a play’s
action is like something from a
later period, its environment can be changed accordingly.” Their “innovations are basically
analogical—providing at best a platform for ideas, at worst an occasion for
pranks.” Kirk’s subsequent comparison of
“concept” and “new language” seems exactly parallel to Brustein’s distinction between
“simile” and “metaphor”: Brustein writes that “simile productions are rarely as
powerful as those that try to capture the imaginative life of a classic through
radical leaps into its hidden, sometimes invisible, depths.” (Kirk’s
description of Jon Jory’s Midsummer at
ATL reminds me of an Arturo Ui directed by Carl Weber I saw at
Washington, D.C.’s Arena Stage in 1974 that was also set in a circus. I
distinctly recall Givola—played by Stanley Anderson—in a swing.)
[Now,
both Brustein’s and my articles are about adaptations and interpretations of
classical plays, not original works, but I think the concept’s the same. The
difference between Miranda and the examples Kirk cites is that Brook and Jory were
all (re)interpreting someone else’s existing work while Miranda’s creating
his own with the “new language” built in. Julie Taymor’s Lion King is
a hybrid: she reinvented the Disney cartoon, but her stage version’s original;
she even “reinvented” (that is, “Africanized”) the music. Kirk’s view of Hamilton is an extension of Robert Brustein’s view
of reinterpretations of classics: it’s an application of the same principle to
original work. If Tennessee Williams is
right to call on playwrights to incorporate all the levers of playmaking into
their scripts—this is his “plastic theater” concept, on which I blogged in “‘The
Sculptural Drama’: Tennessee Williams’s Plastic Theater,” 9 May 2012—then
Lin-Manuel Miranda’s on the same theatrical track as Peter Brook and the
metaphorical auteur director—Brustein named other great examples: Vsevolod
Meyerhold, Bertolt Brecht (also himself a playwright), Ingmar Bergman, Liviu
Ciulei. Lucian Pintilie, and Andrei Serban (I would add filmmaker Akira
Kurosawa on the basis of his Shakespearean adaptations Throne of Blood [Macbeth] and Ran [King Lear])—who, he explains, “‘authors’ the
production much as the author writes the text.” Miranda—and others who may follow his
example—simply integrated his stylistic metaphor, in this instance, the hip-hop
medium for telling Alexander Hamilton’s story—into his dramaturgy, just as
Williams proposed, instead of turning the task over to a director.]
No comments:
Post a Comment