The initial purpose of the blog was to document our creation process on each show we produce, both our progress through the process of learning music and blocking, polishing the show, etc.; but also my progress as I discover what makes the show tick, and also how to tell this story as clearly as possible on a stage for an audience. I thought a chronicle of all that, including our stumbles and wrong paths, would be of use to other musical theatre artists, particularly since a lot of our work is less mainstream, more like mainstream-adjacent.
I also realized that between shows, I could write posts about other topics related to the musical theatre. There's nothing I love more than talking or writing about musicals. Eventually I had written so many of those posts that I created a Subject Index for my blog, so it would be easier to find them.
A year ago, as we were thrust into the Great Pandemic of 2020, as the theatres were shut down (March 14, I'll never forget that date), I fell apart. Making musicals is literally the only thing I know how to do. But with the help of pharmaceuticals, weed, and my cat Hamilton, I found a new balance. For right now, I'm not a director; I will be again, but not right now. Today, I'm a writer.
So I wrote, a lot, and ended up publishing five books in 2020. And now I've started on a new book, a new collection of analysis and background essays, called Hamilton and the New Revolution: Broadway Musicals in the 21st Century. I've already written first drafts of chapters on Hamilton, Hadestown, Bonnie & Clyde, Hands on a Hardbody,, and I'm finishing up my chapter on The Scottsboro Boys.
This is not my normal life, no, but at least it's a piece of my normal life. I've been writing about musicals since 1996, but it's always been my side gig. Now it's my gig. And so, I figure my blog should shift focus just a little, and so I'll keep a chronicle here of my process in my writing this book and exploring these cool shows. I know for sure I plan to write chapters on Come From Away, The Color Purple, Dear Evan Hansen, and A Strange Loop. Not sure if there will be room for a couple others, hopefully Kinky Boots and Something Rotten, I could list more...
So I thought, for anyone who loves these shows I'm writing about, here are the cool books I've found that have helped me with my research so far. As always, the more I find, the more I learn, the more I love these shows. As much as I loved Hamilton from the first time I saw it, I love it now on a whole different level after the research I did into the form, structure, variety, and roots of hip-hop music.
To write intelligently about Hamilton, I realized I needed to know more than I did about hip-hop. And to my great surprise, I found a genuinely wonderful academic book that taught me all the basics of how the art form of rap operates, what its rules are, what its roots are, how it's evolved, what kinds of rhymes and other wordplay the form uses.
Later, I found out this is a highly respected work about the form. It's called Book of Rhymes: The Poetics of Hip Hop, by Adam Bradley. This book taught me so much about rap, and its connection back to so many other poetic forms through history and around the world; and all that in turn taught me so much about Hamilton. I also read Rhyme's Challenge: Hip Hop, Poetry, and Contemporary Rhyming Culture, by David Caplan, also a great book. Watching the show after that was different.
While writing my chapter about Hamilton, of course I read Hamilton: The Revolution by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter. But I also found some interesting anthologies: Reframing the Musical: Race, Culture and Identity, edited by Sarah Whitfield; Hamilton and the Law: Reading Today's Most Contentious Legal Issues through the Hit Musical, edited by Lisa A. Tucker; and Historians on Hamilton: How a Blockbuster Musical Is Restaging America's Past, edited by Renee C. Romano and Claire Bond Potter. I disagreed with some of the essays, but all three books were really interesting and helped me think about the show.
When I finished my Hamilton chapter, I decided to explore Hadestown next. I still had that weird transition period when I didn't want to let go of the last show yet. Very much like closing a run and starting rehearsals for the next show. It's always jarring to my Inner Artsy. One good thing about the pandemic -- that transition is easier when I'm only researching and writing about the show.
But damn, I do miss creating shows.
I eventually turned myself to Hadestown. I had seen it and enjoyed it, but I admit I was a little afraid that I wouldn't know how to write about this sui generis show. I soon found several ways in, and I see that it's much richer and more carefully built than it seems.
I took two tracks this time. I watched other musical versions of this Orpheus and Eurydice story over time; and after my mind-opening crash course in hip hop, I dove into a crash course in American blues, jazz, and folk. After those two tracks gave me a good understanding of the materials, I looked much more closely at what these brilliant women had built with those materials. Luckily for me (and for you), the show's author and composer Anaïs Mitchell kept an artistic diary of the entire process, of what changed, what got cut, and also why, published as Working on a Song: The Lyrics of Hadestown. It's a real treat to go on this journey with the show's creator to see how it got to the form we know. Especially because she doesn't write conventional theatre songs.
My Orpheus track started with a refresher on Greek mythology, with an excellent book, From Savagery to Civilization: The Power of Greek Mythology, by Vincent Hannity. I also found quite easily, on Amazon Prime and on YouTube, other musical versions of the Orpheus and Eurydice story. So I watched Monteverdi's 1607 opera L'Orfeo; then Gluck's 1762 opera Orfeo ed Euridice; and finally, the version I'd been waiting to see, Offenbach's very funny, very adult 1858 opera Orpheus in the Underworld.
Now I'm not saying you have to watch all that to understand Hadestown, but honestly, it did help me understand a lot about the story itself and choices that Mitchell made. And besides, I had heard of the older pieces but never seen them, so I'm glad I've seen them now. (I didn't love the first two.)
Eventually I had to leave Hadestown behind. (I was careful not to look back!) But on a side note, I did discover I can do the Hades voice pretty well. Just sayin'. Next stop was an even darker one.
If you don't know the show, it tells the horrific true story of nine young black men being falsely accused of rape by two white women, in Alabama, in 1931. And the show tells that story in the form of a high-energy, virtuoso minstrel show. It's overwhelming in every possible way. And it's brilliant.
So to figure what makes this show tick, despite feeling a bit icky about it, I knew I had to dive into the world of blackface and minstrel shows. But to my surprise, it ended up being a really fascinating trip. It's all so much more complex than I ever imagined. I started with the outstanding book Darkest America: Black Minstrelsy from Slavery to Hip-Hop, by Yuval Taylor and Jake Austen. They explore the history and evolution of the form, but more importantly for my purposes, all the social forces that created this form, that kept it alive for so long, and all the inherent contradictions, that all tie directly to America today. I really loved this book.
All the experts in this field of study seemed to agree that Blacking Up: The Minstrel Show in Nineteenth Century America, by Robert C Toll, was the best book on the subject. So I read that next, and they're right. It's a really detailed, insightful look at the entire history of blackface and minstrelsy. I also found useful information in Love & Theft: Blackface Minstrelsy and the American Working Class, by Eric Lott.
But behind the show biz is a very ugly reality. And even though I know the show takes some liberties with small details (as any good storytelling must), I still wanted to know the actual unbelievable story, from beginning to end. And everywhere I looked for opinions, everybody seemed to agree the best account of the case is Scottsboro: A Tragedy of the American South, by Dan T. Carter. It's an excellent book, and unfortunately, a compelling thriller, but also such a sad, ugly story.
Sometime this year (I hope), I'll have this new book finished and you can see the various conclusions and connections I've drawn. While you're waiting, you could always read my recent collection of essays analyzing other 21st century musicals, Idiots, Heathers, and Squips: The New Golden Age of the Musical Theatre, digging into into eleven musicals that represent the astonishing variety and fearlessness of this new Golden Age, including bare, Urinetown, Sweet Smell of Success, Jerry Springer the Opera, Passing Strange, Cry-Baby, Next to Normal, Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, American Idiot, Heathers, and Be More Chill.
I love writing about musical theatre, and I'm thankful that people like you love reading about musical theatre. Thank you.
Long Live the Musical! And Stay Safe!
Scott
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