No Day but Today
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

Early on in Chris Columbus’s faithful-to-a-fault adaptation of “Rent,” I remembered when I first realized “Rent” stabilization wasn’t always healthy.
Jonathan Larson’s 1995 Lower East Side update of “La Boheme” had been running for about a year, and it was time for the producers to find replacement actors. The audition notice in Back Stage made it clear what they were looking for: exactly what they stumbled onto the first time. Before dying of an aortic aneurysm, Larson, whose score remains the standard-setter for integrating rock music into Broadway staging, had created a melting pot of races and genders; from that point on, the ingredients were to melt no further. The original Benny and Joanne were black, and as the casting notice made clear, it was expected that the new ones would be, too. Same with the Hispanic Mimi and Angel, the white Roger and Mark, etc., etc.
It’s been 10 years, and, for better and for worse, “Rent” is nearly as it was. And casting all but two of the original cast members turns out to have been a dubious choice. Along with Mr. Columbus’s tepid musical staging, the visual disconnect of squatters and aspiring artists creeping toward their 40s (get a job, already!) puts “Rent” at a disadvantage. So it comes as a surprise that Mr. Columbus ultimately wrestles the “love in the time of AIDS” story to the ground and captures some – not all or even most, but some – of the original’s propulsive, generation-defining energy. Newcomers may find themselves out in the cold, but the actors’ undiminished star wattage and innate comfort with the material are likely to appease the show’s many devotees.
See, “Rent” has had one central problem from the very beginning: It’s not finished, at least not in a form that most stage professionals would recognize. Larson died hours before the first preview, and unlike many pop songwriters who try their hand at Broadway scores, he was a creature of the theater. He knew what went on during the preview process – rewrites, followed by re-rewrites – and he undoubtedly would have molded and sharpened the piece during that time.But the decision was made to freeze the show, to leave it intact as a tribute to Larson. And so “Rent” is a work in progress frozen in amber, a state exacerbated by the more fixed medium of film.
Mr. Columbus doesn’t entirely leave it untouched, though, and some of his tweaks are for the better. Rock veteran Rob Cavallo has roughed up the orchestrations, creating a more authentic sound. A bit of early reordering by screenwriter Stephen Chbosky results in a shift in focus toward the characters’ possible eviction and away from the romance between Roger (an unfortunately coiffed Adam Pascal, who still sounds great) and Mimi (Rosario Dawson, as physically impressive as she is overmatched vocally). Some of Larson’s recitative has been incorporated as spoken-word dialogue, which works better than one might assume. And while Mr. Columbus’s efforts at “opening up” the settings fall flat, his slightly bolstered supporting cast – a funny Sarah Silverman, a regal Anna Deavere Smith – makes sense.
The biggest problem is that Mr. Columbus doesn’t know how to shoot a musical sequence. He relies far too often on close-ups, and the expansive lofts and performance spaces give his uncertain eye too many options, especially in the more kinetic songs like “Today 4 U” and “La Vie Boheme.” By contrast, his best staging comes in Jesse L. Martin’s ambling “Santa Fe,” which is confined to the F train. Mr. Columbus “solves” the problem of the show’s stubbornly presentational anthem, “Seasons of Love,” by kicking off the movie with it, staged effectively on a bare Broadway stage, and getting it out of the way.
The performances rise above Mr. Columbus’s visual limitations, displaying the seasoning that comes with years of practice, although Anthony Rapp’s geek-chic Mark and Idina Menzel’s bratty bisexual Maureen wear less well a decade later. (Note to parents of “Wicked” fans: After seeing their beloved Ms. Menzel here, your daughters will want to get tattoos. On their butts. Which they will then want to display to bystanders. Just so you know.) Mr. Martin’s Tom is a standout among the old guard, with his “I’ll Cover You” reprise the clear musical highlight, and in the underdeveloped role of Joanne, Tracie Thoms joins the old-timers with remarkable assurance.
With the exception of the leaden musical staging, not much is flat-out wrong with “Rent.” And given the of-its-time plot and tragic behind-the-scenes story, the odds were clearly against its recapturing the same energy it had in 1995. Most adaptations are billed as a version “for our time,” “for the new millennium,” and so forth. Mr. Columbus’s film absolutely is not one of these, and I’m not sure he even wanted it to be. But Jonathan Larson aspired to write more than an effective museum piece. And those aspirations are left sadly unfulfilled.
“Rent” opens tonight at midnight in New York City.