My name is Alexander Hamilton/And there's a million things I haven't done/But just you wait, just you wait," Lin-Manuel Miranda seems to sing near the beginning of Hamilton. Roughly three hours later, we’re still waiting. Hamilton is structured into two parts. The first part recounts Hamilton's arrival in New York City in 1776, his work assisting General George Washington during the American Revolution, and how he met and married Eliza Schuyler. The second part covers Hamilton's postwar role as the first United States Secretary of the Treasury and his death in a duel with Aaron Burr. The initial portion feels entirely celebratory; Hamilton is portrayed so heroically that Burr (Leslie Odom Jr.) could easily be compared to Judas. As I watched the protagonist’s military and political career unfold through song and dance, it occurred to me that if the historical setting and characters were altered, this could just as well become Forrest Gump: The Musical. The show doesn't really convey why Hamilton was so significant, important, and vital in the lives of many people; his success appears to be a consequence of being in the right place at the right time. It’s been said that Miranda has written songs filled with adjectives but lacking verbs; lyrics that prioritize what is happening over how or why it's occurring. "How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore/And a Scots-man, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot/In the Caribbean by providence impoverished/In squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?" That’s a worthwhile question deserving of a better answer than "by working harder/By being smarter/By being a self-starter." And, apparently, by being vague. Hamilton progresses from one plot point to the next like a dream, without ever creating a clear picture of his journey. The second part offers more specifics about Hamilton’s legacy; the character begins to take action rather than simply existing. However, there's another issue here. The actual Hamilton was primarily a writer, and his writings must surely be fascinating to someone interested in them; on the other hand, they aren’t exactly entertaining. For example, Hamilton helped solidify the United States Constitution by writing 51 of the 85 essays known as The Federalist Papers, which remain an important reference for interpreting the Constitution. This is almost as impressive as it is tedious, and no amount of hip hop choreography can change the fact that Miranda’s songs, though true to the spirit of the man who inspired them, lack any real showmanship. These are lengthy, heavily explanatory passages filled with facts and dates, like something a high school student wrote because they couldn't remember their history otherwise. Meanwhile, King George III of England (Jonathan Groff, who steals every scene he’s in) is depicted as a fool but has the most memorable song in the show. Despite all that, Hamilton’s biggest problem is Miranda himself. As a composer, he clearly favors quantity over quality, but a performer with authority might have been able to elevate his material, even with considerable effort. Miranda isn't that kind of performer; his dancing can be generously described as awkward, and his singing sounds like an irritating nasal whine, as if he inhaled helium before each number—rather than the oxygen he seems to struggle for while trying to sing and dance simultaneously. Oh, and to be perfectly blunt, his appearance is not particularly pleasing, resembling the Bumblebee Man from The Simpsons. All things considered, Miranda has assembled a wonderful cast; so talented in fact that each individual member, as well as the ensemble overall, outshines the star, who seems to drain all joy from the singing and dancing.

Source on TMDB