In its first two seasons, Hamilton was an exhilarating ride of high drama, wit and originality.
This season, the show’s final act is an all-out assault on our senses.
It’s a series-spanning, emotionally devastating performance of a character’s worst nightmare.
It might sound ridiculous to describe this as the most emotionally wrenching and profound musical ever.
But for me, it is.
Hamilton is the most thrilling and profound performance I’ve ever heard.
It is a musical that not only challenges the senses but elevates them to a level of transcendence that no other work has ever dared to achieve.
That it’s a show so beloved by so many that it’s had an entire year dedicated to its release is both an accomplishment and an insult to those who have dedicated the last eight years to watching it.
There is a reason that I chose to give this show a score of nine stars, and a reason why I have chosen to give the show its highest honor.
It doesn’t matter how many of you read my score, it doesn’t change the fact that you can watch Hamilton and feel a sense of exhilaration and peace.
But it does mean that I feel a certain amount of guilt that I’ve made a commitment to an experience that I think is utterly flawed.
It means that I have a lot of work ahead of me, and that I might have to make some sacrifices if I hope to make it a series that I can recommend to others.
So, as a final note, I want to be clear that while I think Hamilton is an extraordinary musical, I think it is flawed and I hope you will understand why.
The show’s central conceit is that the story of the United States is a tale of hope and love.
In fact, the story’s central tenet is that we’re all children of hope.
We’re all just human.
We are all born with a divine gift, a capacity to feel what it is to be loved, to feel the joy of the unexpected.
So the idea of “Hamilton” is that, while we are all imperfect, we all have a divine spark, a divine potential.
We have the ability to be perfect in our lives.
The idea that we are inherently flawed and that we can never truly be perfect is absurd.
That is not what “Hamilton,” or any other show, is about.
It isn’t about the idea that you’re better off if you do things your way.
That you can’t be the best at everything.
That your flaws make you better.
That the world is a cruel place where imperfections and imperfections don’t matter, but perfection does.
The world is full of imperfections.
You’re just a little bit better off, and we can all be better off together.
This is the premise of the show, and the show does not give a damn about how you feel about your own imperfections, about your flaws in the ways you treat others, about how well you do in the way you conduct yourself.
It simply shows how much you can do, and how much we can be.
It wants to tell a story about how much humanity we all share, and it wants you to believe that, because of our flaws, we can achieve greatness.
If this is true, then the show is a perfect allegory for our own failings, and in particular our failings as people.
We can’t have a society that treats people like children, that treats us like children of a god who gives us every possible opportunity to succeed.
We cannot have a world where we believe that we will never, ever be better than others, because we can’t.
The best part of this story, however, is that it is about hope.
If there’s one thing we know from history, it’s that it isn’t always what we want it to be.
So I hope that you enjoy the rest of the first two and a half seasons of the musical, and I will keep you posted on what I learn from it as we head toward the third season.
Until then, I’ll keep telling you how it’s the greatest musical ever made, and thank you for believing in it.
Posted by Matt for The Huffington Post, April 6, 2021