How we gonna pay? 20 years of RENT

Shortly after meeting my then-girlfriend's parents on Long Island, I went with her to my first genuine on-Broadway show. RENT was her favorite musical and she made it clear that I needed to like it. I would not have chosen to see it on my own, but I was willing to like anything if it got me closer to her. Additionally, it intrigued me: if a woman this extraordinary loved it, there had to be a reason.

The energy was infectious, the music was exactly my style, and the acting was great. But appreciation is not the same as love. I wasn't connecting with any of the characters. I was even less Bohemian then than I am now. I couldn't fathom not being able to pay my rent, much less having AIDS or being in love with a drag queen.

During the intermission, I had an epiphany: Jesus would have loved these people. And they would have loved Him. From then on, I loved them too.

For The Lady's 35th birthday, we saw the "20th anniversary" tour (the show opened in 1996 but was set in 1999). I knew she would love it, but I had been listening to Hamilton for the 3rd straight time. And with the AIDS crisis past (in America), and alternative lifestyles mainstreamed, would RENT hold up after 20 years? Or would it seem stale and dated, like so much protest music from the '60s?

First, the performance at the Nederlander Theatre in Chicago. The set was scarcely changed from the original, right down to the deliberate placement of the "orchestra" (a 5-piece rock band) on the stage and only partly obscured. Because if there are no instruments on stage, it's not a rock concert. One appearance of a cell phone, but otherwise the characters rely on a pay phone (do those even exist anymore?) and a tape-recorded answering machine (I don't think those exist anymore). These details kept the production firmly anchored in 1999. 

RENT is nothing if not high-energy, and from the opening number it did not disappoint. If Danny Kornfeld wasn't Anthony Rapp, I couldn't tell. Kaleb Wells' Roger was less punkish and more of a brooding grunge rocker, constantly hanging his head and turning halfway away from the audience. David Merino did what I never thought possible: made Angel even more flaming than in the original; at times he sounded out-of-breath but it seemed fitting. As the father of a Ethiopian daugther, I was thrilled to see Joanne portrayed by Ethiopian actress Jasmine Easler. Aaron Harrington brought Collins to life with dreadlocks and a voice at least an octave deeper than Jesse Martin. 

My one criticism? Mimi was always a Latina. That doesn't necessarily preclude her from being black - thank you, Renee Elise Goldberry! - but how many Latinas do you know with shaved heads? As an exotic dancer, Mimi has to fit men's conceptions of beauty; as Roger's girlfriend, she's the most mainstream female character in the show. I have zero credibility in criticizing how Skyler Volpe wears her hair, but she's playing a character and it just didn't work.

Second, the relevance. For a musical that celebrates bohemians, it at times seems to be preaching to them. Their redemption comes not in their nonconformity, which is a given, but in learning to love.  The lonely tortured artist is not a hero. And it is Angel, the flamboyant street-drumming drag queen, who teaches them this. Angel's philosophy is summarized in the entrance song, "Today 4 U (Tomorrow 4 Me)." In a world where everyone is struggling to survive, Angel puts others first. Among people ashamed of having AIDS and afraid to love, Angel models vulnerability and encourages others to make the most of their remaining days. Few things are more Biblical than an unlikely messenger speaking the truth.

The fact that AIDS is now effectively treatable takes the edge off an edgy production and turns Angel's death into historical drama. But songs like, "Will I?" and "I Should Tell You" never explicitly mention AIDS.  The contemporary normalcy of the gay and lesbian characters mirrors the contemporary normalcy of rock music on Broadway. RENT permanently changed its genre in the same way that Hamilton is doing now: utilizing a new musical form because it is the best way to tell a story.

Conversely, Angel seems to prefigure today's transgender moment. I won't put words into the mouth of someone who died 23 years ago, but I can't imagine Angel being part of any political movement. Angel would just tell us to love one another.  

Unlike the 2005 film, the stage musical takes place against a persistent backdrop of homelessness. In the only interaction between the main characters and a homeless person, the latter dismisses the former as self-serving hypocrites with nothing to offer. But with eviction on the table, the artists are never more than one rent check away from being homeless themselves. 

At the height of the first tech boom, under a proudly-tolerant baby-boomer President, Jonathan Larson foresaw gentrification, growing class divides, the heroin epidemic, and the loneliness and isolation of modern society. Unemployment is now at a 50-year-low, yet our nation is being rent apart.

Third, the personal dimension. In the 12 years since that show in New York, we got married, traveled the world, suffered a string of losses and setbacks, and ended up with 6 children. My career has been a case study in frustration, our house is too small and our children's needs are too large, and most of our dreams have undergone numerous revisions. The only things we have an abundance of are friends, children, and special needs. 

After 20 years, the bottom line is the same: measure your life in love.