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For those
of us whom others might consider Rentheads
(and that’s a term to be earned), the making
of the film version of RENT from the
long-running (ten years in April) Broadway
musical might have struck fear in our
hearts. How do you translate such a visceral
production into something for the flat
screen? And what about Chris Columbus as
director? And wouldn’t the original cast be
a little too old now, for such youthful
roles? And also, would this movie version of
a beloved stage musical turn out to be like
Richard Attenborough’s Chorus Line or, more
favorably, somewhat closer to Rob Marshall’s
Oscar-winning Chicago?
Well, then – fresh from a benefit screening
of RENT for Friends in Deed (the caregiving
organization without whom, arguably, there
might not be a RENT at all), it is a joy to
report that this Renthead’s fears about the
movie version have been completely allayed.
Admittedly, the judgment of an individual
who has seen the Broadway version of this
show no less than 73 times cannot be trusted
to be completely objective, and yet, judging
by the applause and standing ovation of last
night’s sold-out audience at Symphony Space,
even newcomers to this materal might find
themselves, upon viewing this film, swept
into the culthood.
The film opens with that immediately
recognizable first note which starts the
second half of the stage version, that first
note of “Seasons of Love” – and there they
are, the cast lined up face-front and
center, singing to an empty theatre. From
there, we shift into Mark Cohen’s
documentary, with his voice telling us it’s
1989 – and then, with another shift, we’re
on location in the East Village in Mark and
Roger’s rambling and bedraggled loft
apartment. And at first, it’s almost odd
that you can repeat the dialogue with the
characters in a film and know what they’re
going to say before they say it (something
most often associated with a Rocky Horror
screening), but then, you start hearing a
few phrases here and there which, as a
Renthead, you know were not in the original
show, and which actually fit in with the
dialogue, and then, gradually, you give in
to what the film does and you start to let
go of all the other performances you’ve seen
in these roles over the past ten years and
you begin to focus on the story itself, and
hear again, as if for the first time, the
music.
RENT is still about, for the most part,
Jonathan Larson’s music. And Columbus’s film
does a superb job at opening up several of
the numbers, making them bigger than the
stage version, but in a way which is
completely respectful to the original
versions. “The Tango Maureen,” for example,
opens into an incredible tango ballroom
scene complete with at least a dozen other
tangoing couples in evening dress, and
perhaps, most importantly, this number,
unlike the stage version, introduces the
audience to the character Maureen, a
linchpin for the evolving relationships. In
other words, miraculously, Columbus
clarifies the storyline.
Another number which benefits from
Columbus’s reimagining of what Larson might
have done had he lived long enough to
tighten his plot and the machinations of his
characters is the show-stopping duet between
Maureen and Joanne, “Take Me or Leave Me.”
Not only does Columbus provide a commitment
ceremony for the two women, but he
celebrates their union with a big splashy
production number at the Greenwich Country
Club. One complaint often voiced about
Larson’s original show was the manner in
which the two lesbian characters were
treated, and Columbus’s inspired cinematic
tweakings of their love offers viewers a
deeper, more resonant relationship.
Similarly, Columbus does not shy away from
the love between Angel and Collins, and both
Jesse Martin and Wilson Jermaine Heredia
imbue their roles with a palpable joy at
being together (and particularly in a lovely
daylight exterior scene where they dance
down the street as gaily and happily – and
rightfully so – as any other cinematic
couple, regardless of sexual preference).
There is not a shard of self-pity in these
two performances, and these roles stand as a
testament to the strength of character for
all those living with disease.
The film is so sure-footed in its direction,
and so beautifully shot – as if the entire
city of New York, and particularly the East
Village, existed in the lambent glow of
candlelight – and never condescending or
cynical about the romantic illusions of
youth that it is nearly impossible to resist
sliding back into that time of life – and
celebrating again all that makes youth so
beautiful. And tragic, as well – for there
is one brief shot of the Manhattan skyline,
complete with the Twin Towers sparkling in
the night, whereupon your throat catches
with the realization of how quickly things
change and people disappear. As Larson would
remind us, there is “no day but today.”
Sixteen years after the film’s setting, AIDS
is still with us, perhaps moreso than ever,
as is the extreme disparity of income in
this country, and also homelessness and drug
and alcohol addiction, and the ongoing fight
for civil rights for gays and lesbians. To
see Columbus’s film, and to hear again
Larson’s libretto, is to be reminnded that
plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.
Perhaps that’s one reason RENT continues to
sell-out the house on Broadway, and one
reason why this film will touch so many
people around the world: the struggle to
find love and hold on to love is universal –
and not only for the young.
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