Szin and her impact on the world
When Hamilton first premiered in 2015, tickets were impossible to get. Unless you lived in New York, had hundreds of dollars lying around, or won the lottery (the literal one, not just the metaphorical luck of being alive), seeing it live was nearly impossible. For many of us, Hamilton existed only in pieces: the soundtrack, grainy bootlegs, Tumblr gifsets, and, you guessed it, animatics.
These fan-made videos brought the show to life in a way nothing else could. They gave faces, expressions, and personalities to the voices on the cast album. Even if you didn’t know what the actors looked like or how the staging worked, you could imagine it through a fan artist’s interpretation. Fun fact about me, I've only seen Hamilton one time. Yet, I feel like I've seen it thousands of time. I owe this familiarity to animatics, they are so true to the story and beautifully rendered, that I truly feel like I'm watching the show live.
The charm of animatics lies in their simplicity. Most aren’t fully animated, characters move in frames, their expressions exaggerated, their movements sketch-like, but that rawness makes them incredibly effective. The artists capture emotion in a way polished visuals sometimes can’t.
Take “Satisfied.” In the show, it’s a whirlwind of rewinding choreography and layered staging. On YouTube, fan animators distilled that chaos into expressive facial close-ups, symbolic visuals, and quick transitions that were just as impactful. Or “Non-Stop”, watching a flurry of drawn Hamiltons scribble at desks while Burr looks on, exasperated, somehow conveys the manic energy of the song perfectly.
Animatics also gave creators freedom to reinterpret the show. Some leaned into comedy, exaggerating character quirks. Others took a more serious approach, highlighting historical themes or character dynamics that the stage show left ambiguous. In a way, the fandom co-created Hamilton’s legacy, expanding its meaning far beyond Broadway.
Here’s the truth: without animatics, the Hamilton fandom would not have lasted as long as it did online. Proshots weren’t released until 2020, meaning fans had to create their own visual language for five long years. Animatics filled that void, keeping the fandom active, engaged, and growing.
And unlike the expensive, gatekept Broadway show, animatics were free. A 14-year-old halfway across the world could stumble onto a “Guns and Ships” animatic and instantly be swept into the story. It made Hamilton accessible in a way theatre rarely is.
Hamilton was always going to be big. The music was too catchy, the story too compelling, the concept too unique. But its online life, the memes, the debates, the endless middle school obsession, owed a huge debt to animatics. They weren’t just silly fan projects; they were a form of cultural translation, turning Broadway into something global, digital, and participatory.
So yes, animatics raised me. They raised an entire generation of kids who couldn’t afford a Broadway ticket but still wanted to scream-sing “My Shot” into their bathroom mirrors. I've spent this entire article beating around the bush, so let's finally get to the story. After being displeased with Hamilton, I went back to life as it was. Two days later, I had just completed my Hindi homework, and I was tired. Opening YouTube, I saw an animatic for 'Guns and Ships'. A faint recognition tingled in my mind, as I realized this was the very song I had heard two days ago. I watched it, and decided that, yes Lin Manuel Miranda can't sing, and the rest of the show was boring. But this song was good, right? So I added this song, and only this song to my playlist. I’ve heard one, so I figure it can’t hurt to give the others a listen. And well, that’s how Szin (the creator of the animatic) gave rise to a 5 year long (and counting) obsession, and I’m eternally grateful for it.
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