Sure, it’s a trick question. But a new study from memory researchers at Washington University in St. Louis confirms that most Americans are confident that Alexander Hamilton was once president of the United States.
“Our findings from a recent survey suggest that about 71 percent of Americans are fairly certain that Alexander Hamilton is among our nation’s past presidents,” said Henry L. Roediger III, a human memory expert at Washington University. “I had predicted that Benjamin Franklin would be the person most falsely recognized as a president, but Hamilton beat him by a mile.
“The interesting thing is that their confidence in Hamilton having been president is fairly high – higher than for six or so actual presidents.”
Hamilton must be as big, loud and bold as American history, but then turn on a dime and zoom in emotionally and audibly on much smaller character moments. As it turns out, his key challenge was managing the energy and emotion of the show as expressed in the sound’s wide dynamic range.
The team was constantly asking themselves, “How do we make sure the audience is also taken to those same extremes, that we don’t limit the transformation that’s available to us through musical theater—because we also exaggerate it at times. This piece is ripe for that,” Steinberg says.
The big, loud scenes are intense. The Battle of Yorktown has “guns, percussive physical movement of the cast, a record-scratch solo and what I call angry bass guitar and drums,” Steinberg says. It also has some huge, booming explosions. This is a hip-hop musical, after all, and Steinberg asked himself, “How far can we go, without damaging anyone or anything, but still actually try to move air in the theater in a way that lives up to what a modern operatic version of that battle might be? Then, we also zoom in on the characters of Aaron Burr and Hamilton’s wife Eliza, so we asked, ‘How small, focused, dry, thin with volume, texture, reverb, can we go?’”
The DiGiCo SD7T control surface, along with its proprietary theater software, gives the team tremendous control over 28 matrixed outputs, which makes managing the wide dynamic range much easier, Crystal says.
These major dynamic shifts happen fast. In a pivotal Act Two moment, Hamilton is being blackmailed by political foes who have caught him in an illicit love affair. Hamilton chooses to publish a pamphlet admitting his guilt in great detail, sacrificing his personal reputation to try to save his political life. He seems oblivious to the impact this will have on his wife, Eliza.
This scene, Reynolds Pamphlet, “is incredibly raucous, exuberant, downright noisy,” Steinberg says. “That matches the chaos of the emotion of that moment, the havoc that’s been wreaked on Hamilton and his family. It is a lot like the Battle of Yorktown scene in that way.”
Immediately following that scene, Eliza sings the quiet, wrenching ballad “Burn,” and literally burns letters from Hamilton, onstage.
“We exaggerate the quiet moment of ‘Burn,’ immediately following Reynolds Pamphlet, and zoom in on the loneliness and isolation of Eliza, singing of how she’s going to deal with the emotional consequences, and of her resolve to respond. The orchestration is stripped down to solo piano. The focus of the entire production is on one person sitting on a bench with a lantern.”
It is an intensely quiet moment, absolutely the only time the audience can hear ventilation, lighting fans or anything making a whisper of a sound in the house, “And it tickles me that we can do both,” Steinberg says.
Part of managing the wide dynamic range is choosing gear that can handle the extremes. For example, “We have some extended low frequency in this show you don’t generally hear on Broadway,” Steinberg says. “We added low-frequency extension with these two Meyer Sound 1100-LFC subs, which are big for Broadway, and we heard new music (from keyboards and electronic track) that was inaudible downtown. We just didn’t have room for these monsters Off Broadway.”
The 250-pound powered subs, with two 18-inch drivers each and a 28Hz-100Hz range, sit vertically on the floor flanking the stage, out of sight. Four Meyer Sound 600-HP subs sit in plain sight, however, mere inches from audience members, in both orchestra and balcony seating boxes.
Another challenge of bringing hip-hop to Broadway is that the singers are not using handheld mics—“the instrument of hip-hop,” Steinberg says. And there wasn’t any useful way to make RF lav mics sound more like handhelds, so they ultimately did not try. “We simply took a more traditional Broadway approach, to make the RF mics sound good,” Crystal explains.
The leads wear a mix of head mics hidden in wigs (Hamilton) and customized booms for characters without hair (Burr, Washington). Burr’s boom also allows classic hip-hop vocal echo effects to go live rather than through playback, thanks to the proximity of the mic.
However in cabinet debate scenes in the Washington administration, staged like hip-hop throwdowns, a wooden dueling-pistol case is brought out and in the show’s only truly meta moment, Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson take out iconic Shure SM58 mics (actually Shure UR2s with Beta 58 heads). They go at each other gleefully, forcefully expressing their contrasting political and economic views in street-rhyming style. The mics were chosen for their classic hip-hop looks, as well as sound quality.
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‘Hamilton’ Brings Hip-Hop to Broadway (Mix) – even more gear talk in the rest of the article
I have seen people say that one of the tragedies of “The World Was Wide Enough” is that Hamilton and Burr both break with their natures–Burr doesn’t wait and Hamilton throws away his shot. This is perfectly, literally true, as well as excellent wordplay in the second instance, but I’ve been thinking that one of the really beautiful things about the musical is that it’s not completely true.
Hamilton throws away his (gun)shot, but that’s never–in his own mind or in the play itself–been what the metaphorical shot really is, at least not consistently. “Not throwing away your shot” is about not wasting your opportunities; it’s about making the deliberate choice. Hamilton throws away his more active military career when he signs on as Washington’s aide, but he views this–at least in the moment–as seizing his shot, because Washington has persuaded him that it’s harder and more honorable to try to live. He and his men take the bullets out of their guns at Yorktown to better secure their victory.
And it’s not only Hamilton who wins by losing, or at least by forfeiting the showier and more conventional route to victory: it’s Washington, too. LMM is explicit about this in the notes on “One Last Time”: that the song highlights Washington’s “most radical act/lasting legacy,” which is his decision to walk away from power and not seek it again. He throws away the most obvious form of power, but he doesn’t throw away his chance for meaningful action: he just redefines what meaningful action looks like. Even though Hamilton says it will make him look weak, Washington pushes through, because “they will see we’re strong.” He turns down one shot for another: he teaches a country, and a succession of presidents, and Hamilton himself, to say goodbye.
And that’s what Hamilton learns from him, and from Eliza, who chooses–consciously and actively–to forgive. He says, “If I throw away my shot, is this how you’ll remember me? What if this bullet is my legacy?” And it is, and he knows that, and he chooses this chance, this idea of meaningful action: to aim at the sky. To not kill, or even feign to kill, “[his] first friend, [his] enemy.” And we don’t say he’s weak for that; we see he’s strong.
Because kindness, in Hamilton, is always deserving of our awe and respect. Hamilton’s “non-stop” series of accomplishments is wonderful to behold, but the one thing we’re really asked if we can even imagine is Eliza offering him forgiveness. When Hamilton chooses to aim for the sky, he doesn’t throw away his shot, he takes stock of everyone he’s loved, and everyone he’s lost, and everything he’s done, and seizes the opportunity–to be kind. To make peace.
And for us, at least, that’s a substantial part of his legacy. So part of what makes Hamilton so awesome, for me, is that it recognizes that sometimes deliberately refraining from action is the most powerful action you can take, and it defines its characters by those active refusals, those conscious choices to not go after more. Hamilton throws away his shot, Eliza throws away her anger, Angelica throws away her chance, Washington throws away his reelection. Principle is sometimes most meaningfully expressed by where we draw the line and what we refuse to do, which is why Hamilton cannot back Burr after hearing that there’s “nothing [he] wouldn’t do.”
Hamilton never really gives up. As Burr says in “Wait for It,” all he does is “change the game.”
These things, too, are part of taking your shot: you take the opportunity to be better, smarter, kinder. Hey, sometimes you “take the bullets out your gun” and that’s part of how you win the war.
James Corden Gets Tony Awards Hosting Advice From Rosie O’Donnell Then Raps Hamilton’s “Alexander Hamilton” (E!):
“You need to practice saying, ‘And the Tony goes to Hamilton,’ because it is by far the best thing I have ever seen in my entire life. I’ve seen in 12 times. If I could go once a week, I would. It’s like going to church for me,” she said. “I pay my penance. I go up to the stage. I bless myself. ‘Thank you for allowing me to be here again.’”
Corden, an unabashed musical theater fan, is also a fan of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s show. “When I saw the show—I’ve only seen it the one time—but I felt when they were bowing, I felt like, ‘No, no, no. We should be bowing to them.’ It’s an incredible show. Do you have the soundtrack? I have the soundtrack. I listen to it every day on the way in in the car,” he said. O’Donnell replied, “I know you probably know all the words to all of it, right? Because you’re that kind of guy.”
“Well, they stick in your head!” Corden said. “You know!”
“What’s your favorite part?” O’Donnell asked.
“Well, what do you know?” Corden said in response.
“I know pretty much all of it,” O’Donnell said before rapping a bit of “Satisfied. “I love the Schuyler sisters because I’m the oldest and the wittiest and the gossip in New York City is insidious.” Corden then joined his guest in rapping the opening number, “Alexander Hamilton.”
Thank you to everyone for the overwhelming positive response to my first video! And, despite what many of the tags claimed, I was not in fact crying. It was definitely you.
Heads up, there is some blood in this sequence.
THOUGHTS:
1. Used a new brush. Still needs some tweaks, but I like the feel. 2. The goal for this sequence was NO MAGIC CAMERAS. All the shots had to have realistic set ups! I drew 120 storyboards in 3 days. Improvement again! It was a bit of a scramble and some of the board get a little rough, but that’s what storyboarding is, yes?! 3. Next challenge is to see what I can accomplish without the might of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s musical masterpiece backing me up. Teaser trailer for DOOMMATES will post this Friday!
I’ve been gone! This is where! From now until March I’m trying to complete one story sequence a week. Some are mine, others (like this) are stories I love and want a shot at re-imagining.
Thoughts!
1. The frosty setting is more symbolic than historically accurate–Hamilton and Burr dueled in July.
2. My goal was to finish the boards in a week. It took five days! My speed is improving.
3. When there is a Hamilton movie, it shouldn’t look anything like this. Just wanted to stretch my imagination a little.The best presentation for this monologue is one actor under a spotlight in a dark theater. @linmanuel @leslieodomjr hope you don’t mind the creative liberties. Your performances on the soundtrack are outstanding!
Throughout, Burr is easily the most relatable character. Who among us has not watched as a favored colleague rose through the ranks, drawing lucky ticket after lucky ticket, as you also toiled away, but to no reward? In “Right Hand Man,” Burr comes to then-general George Washington to propose a strategy for the war. At this point in history, Burr is a war hero: he fought his way through enemy forces in 1775 to rescue the body of his commander, Richard Montgomery, for which he received a citation for bravery.
Yet in this scene, Washington ignores Burr’s ideas and opinions in favor of young upstart Hamilton, asking him to “close the door on [his] way out.” Burr’s frustration at this deeply unfair dismissal is palpable. Burr is a genius, credentialed beyond belief. But at every point, Hamilton, either consciously or unconsciously, keeps Burr from “the room where it happens,” the place where the decisions are being made. Their eventual last encounter becomes more understandable by the second.
[…]
Burr really has two roles in the show: the omniscient narrator, and himself in the present moment. In the affecting finale, as he recounts the moments that led up to his and Hamilton’s fateful, fatal conflict, Odom’s voice takes on a note of barely disguised panic. As the keeper of the narrative, he knows what is coming yet is powerless to stop it.
Odom has said in interviews that he lets himself be shocked by the ending every night, lets himself believe it can be avoided until it can’t. He is a miraculous actor, one whom you can watch thinking, a rare and impressive skill. As he takes his position in the final duel, his eyes wide with fear, you can feel every inevitable step that led to this. Burr’s last “present-moment” word, as he’s shooting Hamilton, is “Wait!” in a terrifyingly sad recollection of his earlier catchphrase, which was the watchword of his ambitions—now to be dashed.
This leads to his all-too-knowing coda to the duel: “History obliterates—in every picture it paints, it paints me in all my mistakes…Now I’m the villain in your history. I was too young and blind to see—I should have known the world was wide enough for both Hamilton and me.” (That last is something the real Burr actually said before his own death at 80.) Odom weeps as he sings this, both out of regret and out of catharsis for all the pent-up frustration he’s been holding in the entire show.
“What Lin is doing is taking the vernacular of the streets and elevating it to verse. That is what hip-hop is, and that is what iambic pentameter was. Lin is telling the story of the founding of his country in such a way as to make everyone present feel they have a stake in their country. In heightened verse form, Shakespeare told England’s national story to the audience at the Globe, and helped make England England—helped give it its self-consciousness. That is exactly what Lin is doing with ‘Hamilton.’ By telling the story of the founding of the country through the eyes of a bastard, immigrant orphan, told entirely by people of color, he is saying, ‘This is our country. We get to lay claim to it.’”
It’s not the kind of thing I would normally post, but I had just decided that I had a new favorite lyric from a certain fannish obsession when I came across this.
There are other favorites (so many of them). But there’s a breathtaking quality to that moment, and having it isolated and looped like that is just… I don’t know. Hilarious? Disturbing? Some of each, I guess.
In context, both in the scene and in the larger meta-conversation that the whole endeavor represents, it’s an amazing moment. And I guess I worry it might be trivializing/devaluing to treat it like that.
But still.
Okay. Thanks. You did not see this. I was not here.
