In which we wake up ready for another afternoon at the theatre, and spend the morning touring the sites of Greenwich in the mean time.

This afternoon’s theatre experience will be Hamilton, which I’m told has done rather well for itself in the past few years. OK, I’ll give it a shot, why not. But that’s not until 2:00pm, what to do until then?

Well, Mark’s pad is in Greenwich, which I’m told has a couple of museum type things: some kind of observatory place and an old boat. So we got ourselves package tickets to the two museums, or rather, Mark got us all tickets because he spoils us rotten whenever we visit him, and set off.

Turns out that we needed WAAAY more time at the Greenwich Royal Observatory, but we were there long enough to take the ubiquitous picture of ourselves on the meridian, look at a lot of clocks, battle our way through a huge group of French school children, and indulge our voyeuristic tendencies with the camera obscura mounted on the roof. I would love to have spent more time just ogling the Great Equatorial Telescope, but had to satisfy myself with a quick stare. We’ll be back to visit again in the future, I hope, as there were parts of the place that we just didn’t have time to visit (such as the Astronomy Center).

Next we headed down the hill, over to the river for a quick stop at the Cutty Sark, a Clyde built British clipper from the 1800’s, named after the witch from Burns’ Tam O’ Shanter. That last sentence contained a lot of information. In fact, the figurehead on the boat is the infamous witch Nanny, with horse’s tail in hand.

We only had about an hour to explore the ship, but we arrived in time for a great little talk on the main deck by a docent in character as the last (British) captain of the ship, which turned out to be a great way to visit the boat in a short amount of time. We did marvel at the masts, cram ourselves into the bunks, and avoided smacking our heads on the wooden beams in the very short below decks. But, alas, we had to move on quickly for our 2:00pm matinee.

Joining our group today was the dubious Vinay once again, this time accompanied by a new friend called Stephen. Our seats were second row, which was great. Front row seats, normally coveted, would have been quite awful as the stage rose to about five feet in front of them. I can’t imagine that they could see back stage terribly well, and their primary view of the principle actors would have been of their nasal passages. Second row, on the other hand, while still looking up, were quite comfortable and afforded great eye contact with performers.

It’s worth noting at this point that I am not one of the throngs of Hamilton devotees. Quite the opposite, in fact: I try to avoid it at all costs. Two reasons. The first is that the particular style of music featured in Hamilton is one that I just don’t particularly enjoy. Now, I want to make it clear that I do not think that it’s bad. I just don’t enjoy it. People have a hard time reconciling this position, for reasons I don’t fully understand. Perhaps if I state that I believe I’m just incapable of appreciating it stylistically, it might make more sense? I can appreciate the performance, but not “get it.” I have the same thing with ballet: I can appreciate that it is technically amazing, but it doesn’t move me the way it does so many others. Which I’m OK with. My loss.

Where was I…? Ah, yes. I don’t care for the musical style employed by Hamilton, so as a soundtrack, it’s not something I’d gravitate towards. The other reason that I don’t find myself among the many devotees is that, much like gravity, I couldn’t avoid it. And I just got so sick of hearing it. Much like Celine Dion’s now infamous title song to Titanic, the music was played constantly and everywhere. If I’d enjoyed it, it may have had less of an impact. But, see above. So I’d change channels, leave rooms, or just try hard to ignore it.

So why the hell was I going to see a musical featuring music that I knew I wouldn’t like? Two reasons 🙂

First, there’s a difference between listening to the soundtrack of a musical, and watching the performance of a musical. It’s two vastly different experiences that really can’t be compared. Despite my feelings (or lack thereof) about the music, the story sounded compelling and the staging sounded amazing. And, frankly, the reviews from all audiences have been stellar. So, I want to see the show. There is also a chance that, with the show in mind, I’ll have a slightly better appreciation for the music as I have context for it.

Second, much more simply, my ladies are huge fans AND Mark treated us. Because Mark spoils us ridiculously when we come to visit.

Cutting to the chase, we all thoroughly enjoyed the show. Even me. I mean, dear gods, the energy of the performances is staggering. And we had up close views of the supporting cast – all dancers – who never stop moving the entire show.

My favourite character was Washington, mostly because the actor had the best diction so was easy to follow along.  There were a couple of characters whose lines I just couldn’t follow, given the style and speed of the performances, two things that make diction all the more important. (The comment was made, at one point, that if I had listened to the soundtrack more before the show, it may have been clearer. As an actor myself, albeit of significantly lower caliber, my opinion is that if I have to have the actors’ lines memorized before seeing the show in order to understand them, then they have failed as actors).

My second favourite character was the only one that I could play: King George. Great comic relief, and the actor was playing it up to the hilt.

So, yes, everyone thoroughly enjoyed watching the colonies split off and Hamilton meet his fate, to song and dance.

Our group separated once again, and we four headed to Wagamama for dinner. After that, it was just back to the flat to wind down, and, eventually, sleep. Worth noting, the only song that any of us caught ourselves singing the entire rest of the night went something like “Da da da dat da dat da da da da ya da….”