#hamilton chicago pseudoreview

[pictures-to-prove-it]

My “Hamilton-Chicago” Review, told entirely by the quantity and quality of my tears.

There is no possible way I could put this experience into actual words, so here is a list of all the times (and all the different ways) I cried during the March 7th evening performance of “Hamilton” at the PrivateBank Theatre in Chicago. 

Full tear-stained review below the cut.

Alexander Hamilton - My idiot grin gives way to welled up eyes immediately after “Just you waaa-aaait!” Composure held, however. Through Herculean effort, tears stay in place. 

Story of Tonight - Gigantic lump in my throat from start to finish. No tears, but just barely.

Satisfied - Blinking back tears when Angelica absolutely screams “To the groom!” toward the end of the song. (Jesus Christ, Karen Olivo. Warn a girl, would you?)

Wait for It - The first tears finally fall, as I suspected they would. Wayne Brady slays the “Death doesn’t discriminate” verse, and I’m alternately weeping and remembering when he and Ryan Stiles pretended to be fireworks on “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” back in the day. Now I’m laughing and my husband is looking at me with mild concern.

Yorktown: Throat is constricted, and I can’t figure out if the tears are from emotion or just not blinking. Probably a mix of both. (I cannot stress how fucking showstopping this number was. Holy shit). 

Dear Theodosia: Composure officially lost. Silent sobbing commences. Miguel Cervantes is so adorable here, I want to die. 

John Laurens Interlude  - Snot has been added to the moisture coating my face. All I have is a plastic bag to wipe my nose. I nearly suffocate, but it’s for a good cause. 

Ah. Intermission, followed by a lovely interlude with no tears. This gives me ample time to scrape the mascara off of my face and mentally prepare myself for the Hell that is to come. 

One Last Time - All choked up, mostly because I can’t hear this song and not think of Obama leaving office. Jonathan Kirkland does a lovely job of crushing both this song and my faith in the American electorate. 

Burn- The saltiest tears yet. Right after the “You, you, YOUUUUU” line, Ari Afsar pauses for a much longer beat than Philippa Soo does on the album. I’ve never heard 1800 people be so completely silent before in my entire life. “You could hear a pin drop” is an understatement.

Stay Alive (Reprise) - Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf and FML. I’m a mess at this point.  My first audible sob. I’m definitely not the only one. 

It’s Quiet Uptown- Tears are coming out of every pore on my face. I look like the gatekeeper in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy is crying outside of the Wizard’s chamber. 

The World Was Wide Enough- There aren’t any tears left in my body by this point, so I’ve resorted to clutching my chest and shaking.

Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story  - Oh wait. I do have some tears left. Standby tears, if you will. There are whimpers too. I can’t tell if they’re coming from me or my husband.

Curtain Call - for both the cast and my tear ducts. My eye makeup has disappeared, my nose is raw, and I’ve never been happier. 

So there it is. Of course, there was much much more than me just sobbing like an infant, and perhaps I’ll be able to process all of it someday. But that may take awhile.