Theatre’s Fine Line Between Historical Accuracy and Creative Liberties
Caitlin Jones
When Hamilton opened on Broadway in 2016, it did so to unanimous praise. Theatre-goers of all ages praised the musical for its fresh take on the founding of America and use of hip hop and rap, revolutionizing the form that musicals could take. Four years later, the release of the pro-shot version of Hamilton on Disney Plus has been divisive, sparking debates on the importance of historical accuracy within theatre and art.
The controversial “Boycott Hamilton” hashtag arises primarily from the way in which the musical fails to address how slavery contributed to the founding of the nation, and the fact that many of the characters owned slaves. Slavery is only mentioned briefly over the course of the 2 hours and 40 minutes of the show, and without any real consequence to the main plot and narrative.
Furthermore, the Alexander Hamilton as created and portrayed by Lin Manuel Miranda is a rags-to-riches everyman, a “young, scrappy and hungry” immigrant seemingly invested in the fates of non-white Americans and dedicated to democratic, 21st-century ideals. The reality, however, is much bleaker: Hamilton was a man of his time. As was the case with all the other founding fathers, he was racist. But is it going too far to cancel Hamilton due to its lack of acknowledgment of slavery?
This debate opens up a much larger question that applies to many other pieces of theatre: whether or not creative liberties can (or should) be taken with real pieces of history, especially with delicate subject matters that have long-lasting consequences like slavery. Hamilton isn’t the only Broadway musical in the past few years that is set in the past- and not the only one that has inadvertently glossed over the often-shameful realities of history. Two that come to mind immediately are Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 and Falsettos, both musicals which have dedicated fan bases and are personal favorites of mine. But it could be argued that these shows also skip over important issues in order to provide a more cohesive, simple story.
Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 is adapted from 70 pages of War and Peace, following the Russian nobility and their intervening love lives against the backdrop of the Napoleonic Wars. Anyone who has read or seen other adaptions of War and Peace will know that the rich families of Pierre and Natasha are dependent upon serfs, Russian peasants forced into a form of indentured servitude and obliged to their landowner.
In fact, Tolstoy’s Magnum Opus does not shy away at all from the unapologetic, normalized presence of serfs within these people’s estates, and how they contribute to the nobility’s fortunes. Tolstoy himself had questionable feelings about serfdom, which was abolished during his lifetime. In a diary from 1854, he pondered “It is true that is an evil, but it is an extremely lovable evil”, indicating his support for the system. The Pierre in the source material seems to reflect this wary support.
At the beginning of the book, he inherits a large estate and many serfs, becoming a very wealthy man. The musical does not refer to the presence of serfs at all, save for some scenes in which ensemble members appear briefly in servant-like roles, announcing the arrival of other main characters or serving drinks. These fleeting nods to serfdom are reminiscent of “What’d I Miss”, Hamilton’s act 2 opening number sang by Jefferson. He never gestures to the ensemble members as his slaves (save for mentioning “Sally”, obviously alluding to Sally Hemmings), but it is clear by their posture and choreography that they are supposed to be representative of the slaves on Jefferson’s estate.
I want to be clear that in saying all this I am not comparing Russian serfdom to the racialized chattel slavery in America (the two systems, while both forms of forced servitude, are not comparable in the slightest), but only to point out how the less savory parts of Tolstoy’s novel have been left out of its musical adaptation. And it is understandable why. In short, given the time constraints of a musical, it isn’t an issue that can be explained and delved into effectively alongside the actual plot. It doesn’t directly tie into the main plot either- and while it would be important in a history lesson focused on Russian nobility in the early 19th century, it isn’t important to the message and themes of this specific musical adaptation.
I would hope audiences of The Great Comet have an awareness of the realities of the era, but even if they don’t, it isn’t the responsibility of the musical or Dave Malloy (the creator) to explain the ins and outs of class and serfdom in Tolstoy’s Russia.
The Great Comet has never been billed as or claimed to be, an accurate, deep portrayal of 19th century Russia. Rather, it tells us the story of a small group within the nobility, the aristocrat Pierre’s disillusionment with life, and the naïve Natasha’s swinging romantic feelings between two men. To shoehorn in details about the nature of Pierre’s estate and the reliance of the Russian economy upon serfs would feel cheap and random, and unable to do the complexities of the topic of justice. Simply put, some topics are too broad, too long, too complex, to fit neatly into a contained narrative.
There are some musicals, of course, that directly interact with heavy topics, such as Falsettos, which opened on Broadway in 1992. Much of the show’s second act revolves around Whizzer’s gradual illness and eventual death to AIDS, though during the period in which the musical is set, not enough was known about the mysterious illness to even name it.
Both the original show and the revival were lauded for their layered portrayal of the devastating effects of the early AIDS crisis. William Finn, the writer of the book, music, and lyrics of the show, explained the heavy focus on Whizzer’s developing illness as "I can't have AIDS be peripheral in the show…the horror is too real and I don’t want to trivialize it”, a marked difference from the decisions in Hamilton and The Great Comet to leave specific issues out of the narrative.
In the same way that Finn decided to dedicate a large chunk of his script to AIDS in order to give the subject the attention and respect it deserves, Miranda and Malloy, unable to fit slavery into their main narrative, chose to forgo references to it all together lest they trivialize such serious issues by trying to squeeze it into another story.
And despite the praise, Falsettos receives for its honest portrayal of the early AIDS crisis, it by no means serves as an in-depth presentation of what AIDS is, how it manifested in those first years, the reaction of the general public, or the outside factors like government negligence that directly led to the deaths of many gay men.
As someone who very recently wrote their senior thesis on the development of the AIDS crisis in the same time frame Falsettos covers, I greatly respect, appreciate, and enjoy the musical for how it delves into the crisis, but at the same time, I recognize the historical gaps in the narrative and the absence of certain components. The difference is I had 10,000 words and a research paper format to explore this in, and Falsettos has a single act and an audience to entertain. People should be interested in the great atrocities and tragedies of human history. We should be seeking out information about these topics, and on the flip side of that, we should be creating content about these topics to educate each other. But it isn’t fair to expect any one source to tell you everything you need to know about something, never mind to expect it from a musical.
To perhaps point out the obvious, a musical isn’t a history lesson. It can provide some basic background and generate interest in a topic, but it isn’t here to teach you. I’m not sure anyone is going into Hamilton, or The Great Comet, or Falsettos, expecting a full, detailed analysis of all the nuances of their respective historical era. Leaving out details about the Founding Fathers’ hand in slavery in a musical about Hamilton’s personal life isn’t the same as history books leaving out these details.
Some argue that not giving full attention to Hamilton’s role in slavery is a glorification of history- but again, I would like to think that audience members can differentiate between the rapping, non-white Hamilton onstage, and the upright, serious one pictured in their history books. We shouldn’t be looking to theatre to present perfectly accurate historiographies. All we can really expect from these shows is for them to be respectful with their narratives.
Responding to the recent controversy surrounding Miranda’s apparent glorification of Alexander Hamilton and his failures to mention how slavery coincided with the founding of America, Miranda tweeted “The sheer tonnage of complexities & failings of these people I couldn’t get. Or wrestled with but cut. I took 6 years and fit as much as I could in a 2.5-hour musical. Did my best.”
Furthermore, Hamilton’s success proved that theatre can be a good tool to spark interest in history amongst students. In fact, the musical’s quick success allowed the imposition of an educational program, in which local schools were offered cheap tickets to see Hamilton to accompany their own classroom studies of the founding of America.
The important detail here is that these students didn’t go into the musical blind, and therefore did not receive the musical as completely factual. I obviously have no way of knowing how extensive their accompanying lessons on Hamilton and the Founding Fathers were, but I am optimistic that they received a much fuller exploration of the subject, including the darker, more shameful aspects of the history so that when they went to see the show it was merely reinforcing things they already knew in a light-hearted, memorable way. For them, watching Hamilton was a method to transform the subject from a stuffy, complex history lesson into something enjoyable and interactive.
So while theatre shouldn’t be expected to stick to every detail and present meticulous facts to the audience, it can be used as an introduction into a specific topic. For many, Hamilton was a steppingstone into an interest in American history.
For those who are interested enough in the show’s content to look further, the source material used by Miranda, an 800 page brick of a biography by historian Ron Chernow, is available and provides a much more extensive look into the nuances of the founding father’s life. Unlike the condensed version of his life pushed into two musical acts, Chernow’s account does not gloss over Hamilton’s role in slavery. The musical is here to entertain, the biography is here to educate.
There is a line to creative liberties though. Not all history can or should be exaggerated, dramatized, or ignored. Too much brushing over historical realities tends to favor a white savior narrative and denies the existence of minority voices and trauma. Miss Saigon, a musical set in the Vietnam War, follows a romance between an American GI and a young Vietnamese girl, Kim, recently orphaned and forced into prostitution by the war.
Unfortunately, the show utilizes racist and sexist stereotypes by portraying Kim and all the other Asian women in the show as sexual objects to be used by white men, overtly expressing their hope that the men will take them home to America and thus “save” them. The show does not offer any kind of real exploration of how the war-devastated Vietnam or tell the story of Vietnamese people, only showing them as victims unable to fend for themselves. It is a damaging narrative, one that has been echoed throughout time and only serves to reinforce orientalism and western superiority.
Regardless of how people feel about individual productions of Miss Saigon, the harmful nature of the narrative is acknowledged by most. If a Miss Saigon-esque musical was made in 2020, it would never reach Broadway. It would be boycotted long before it got developed properly for its problematic contents. If the general sentiments about Miss Saigon show us anything, it’s that the line for what is appropriate to take liberties with and what is not depends on context and content and should be discussed on a case by case basis.
Bringing the conversation back to Hamilton, it’s interesting that the only complaints that seemed to arise back in 2016 when the show first opened were also about historical accuracy and creative liberties- but in a very different way. Some people took issue with the fact that white historical figures were being played by black, Hispanic, and Asian actors, arguing that it wasn’t representative of the time. Like I mentioned before though, theatre has never claimed to be a history lesson, and it shouldn’t be expected to be as such.
People know who the Founding Fathers are. Especially if you grew up in the U.S, you know exactly what they did and what they looked like. Hamilton’s decision to cast non-white actors as these figures is not likely to confuse people or affect their perception of American history- and if anyone is leaving the show thinking that the Founding Fathers really were non-white, that’s an issue to take up with their own personal education. Supporters of Hamilton hit back against these arguments in 2016, explaining how the casting choices allow the history of America to be reclaimed by people of color and asserts their place in history.
Former President Obama reflected these sentiments when the original cast performed at the White House; “The show reminds us that this nation was built by more than just a few great men—and that it is an inheritance that belongs to all of us.”
I worry that the present criticism of Hamilton is inadvertently undermining these statements. Beyond the ways in which the casting gives non-white actors an opportunity to portray their nation’s history (an ability seldom available to them outside of stories about slavery or segregation), it also created leading roles for people of color. Leading roles in musicals are the majority of the time, written for white performers, whether consciously or not.
Hamilton provides a variety of complex roles for people regardless of their racial background, and the musical’s success sets a precedent to other creators within the theatre industry that they can, and should, create opportunities for non-white actors.
Whether or not you agree with recent criticism of Hamilton, the discussion is certainly worth having. If nothing else, the fact that this is a conversation that has only seemed to enter mainstream consciousness now rather than at any point in the last four years is a testament to how people’s awareness of black lives in America has developed. The last few months have made this an especially potent time for any and all conversations about race, and the fact that people have become willing to discuss how Hamilton could have done better is an important sign of change from four years ago.
However you feel, Hamilton’s attempts to portray history in a new, innovative way that is inclusive of non-white actors is revolutionary. We should welcome this conversation and recognize it as a sign of positive change.
In the wider picture, the only conclusion that can be drawn about the importance of historical accuracy in musicals from past cases and controversies is that it depends entirely on individual musicals and contexts.
Like any other form of art and entertainment, musicals are entitled to choose where to place their focus, are allowed to be dramatic, and can change certain elements to create a juicier plot- but pieces that commit to focusing upon specific, tragic moments in history should be prepared to allocate substantial time and research to the topic to ensure they aren’t being exploitative or trivializing the experiences of victims. The only thing we can demand from art is that if it chooses to explore tragedies of history, it does so with respect and careful thought.