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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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