Few things were more inevitable than an Obama musical. What better way to commemorate the Hamilton presidency than with a vibes-drenched, profanity-laced sing-along for liberals who stopped being proud of their country on Nov. 8, 2016? That was the day Eli Bauman resolved to start writing what would become 44: The Musical, which began a limited run in Washington, D.C., last month after stints in Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York.
You might be surprised to learn that 44 was created by a white male Millennial nepo baby. Bauman is the son of Jon “Bowzer” Bauman—best known as the greaser frontman for doo-wop revival group Sha Na Na. His cousin, Eric Bauman, chaired the California Democratic Party until his resignation in 2018 due to sexual misconduct allegations.
It makes perfect sense, actually. Few demographics have cashed in on the Obama name more successfully than white men (see also: Pod Save America). Just as fittingly, the musical was financed by Monica Saunders-Weinberg, a billionaire shopping mall heiress from Australia.
Bauman, who worked on the 2008 Obama campaign before going to journalism school, has described 44 as his “best answer” to an “inexplicable” question: How did we get from Obama—hope and change, soaring rhetoric, epic vibes—to Donald Trump?
There have been many attempts to answer this question. Very few have incorporated a live R&B band, a slutty Sarah Palin telling Katie Couric to “suck my d—,” and a racy scene in which Barack and Michelle Obama croon about being one another’s “freak dot gov” while making “White House love.”
In other words, 44 is a relatively good answer to the question of how we got from Obama to Trump. Certainly not in the way it was intended, but that’s how it goes sometimes. Obama and his swooning fans presumably envisioned a Lincolnesque figure who could inspire a nation with words. Now he’s just another celebrity we hear about every now and then. But nostalgia is a powerful drug. To revel in what could have been, irrespective of what actually was.
The titular character, played by T.J. Wilkins, starts things off with a catchy refrain: “I’m mutha-f—ing Obama.” He belts out a sultry homage to the speech that launched his career at the 2004 Democratic convention. “There ain’t no red states, there ain’t no blue / There’s only the United States, that’s me and you.” It’s pretty jarring to hear those empty words sung back at you in 2026, when Obama is actively encouraging Democratic governors to gerrymander their blue states even bluer in the name of “fairness.”
The story unfolds from the (admittedly hazy) perspective of Joe Biden, played with dog-like exuberance by Chad Doreck, who ultimately steals the show—much like the real Biden upstaged his former boss (and torched what was left of Obama’s legacy) by running for reelection as a zombie. Michelle is played by Shanice, billed as “the first African American to star as Eponine in Les Miserables on Broadway.” She is portrayed as a fierce queen (obviously) who hates being first lady but nevertheless persists in whipping her husband into shape—by reminding him that he is “mutha-f—ing Obama.”
Hillary Clinton is amusingly bitter as the woman scorned. Her feminist rant, “My Turn,” is followed by a different kind of female performance: “Drill Me Baby” by a bikini-clad Sarah Palin, who is joined by fellow villains Mitch McConnell, Ted Cruz, and the blonde “ho-bots” from “Faux News.” The Republicans convene a meeting of WHAM (White Hetero Affluent Men), where they appoint Herman Cain as their token black member. Lindsey Graham prances about with a tiny parasol making bitchy comments under his breath. This is what the Chicago Tribune described as “smart, sophisticated satire.”
Bauman made a sensible choice in excluding Trump from the story. Most of the action takes place between 2008 and 2012, ending in Obama’s triumphant reelection over Mitt Romney. As is often the case for Democrats, the winning is the point. Their actual accomplishments, less so. Obamacare is good because Obama passed it and the GOP tried to stop it. Whether it actually works is beside the point.
The show provides a familiar take on Obama’s presidency, the version that played out in mainstream media outlets at the time. Americans wanted hope and change, but Republicans were too racist so they filibustered progress. The second act features a rousing performance of “F.U.T.C.,” or “F— You, Ted Cruz.” Meanwhile, the worst thing Obama ever did was wear a tan suit. And then Trump won because of sexism.
If you’re the sort of person who has fond memories of the Obama years, you should probably go see 44. And even if you don’t, there are worse ways to spend your time than by leaving the house and taking a two-hour break from your social media feed. The cast is talented, the music is (pretty) good. It’s cheesy but entertaining. Nowhere near The Book of Mormon-level quality, but still.
The musical itself won’t answer any questions not already answered by the fact that the musical exists, and like-minded liberals are flocking to see it—to recapture the vibes and remember what it felt like to have a genuine celebrity in charge. Someone who was cool enough to invite other celebrities to the White House and do a freestyle rap with Lin-Manuel Miranda. Someone who, almost a decade later, is funding the monstrous monument to his inflated ego by selling hats that say “hope” for $35 a pop.
How we got from there to Trump remains a mystery.
44: The Musical is playing at the Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Klein Theatre through May 17.
