The Stratford Festival Theatre Review: Rent

By Ross

It’s all heart-wrenching “glory, from the pretty boy frontman“, as Stratford Festival magnetically brings to life the epic Rent, the rock musical that slices together Puccini’s 1896 opera La Bohème with the deep emotional saga of a group of young starving artists struggling against all odds to survive and create in NYC’s East Village. It’s the thrilling dark and stormy days of bohemia in Alphabet City, heaving breathlessly under the shadow of HIV/AIDS, with awe-inspiring music, lyrics, and book by the magnetic and too-soon departed Jonathan Larson. The tale is tight and strong with a captivating emotionality, digging deep into love and loss in the most energetic of ways possible under the watchful eyes of illuminated apartment windows thirsty for more. It is filled with emotion, this production, taking me back to that thrilling moment in my theatrical history when I first saw the musical in previews on Broadway back in 1996 after it transferred from the New York Theatre Workshop to great acclaim. 

I was a young 32-year-old gay man, living and struggling with life in the East Village of New York City. And I knew the distress and exhilaration well. The creation of Rent has a well-known story now, thanks to the numerous documentaries mapping out its birth, as well as the majestic filming of Larson’s “tick, tick…BOOM!” that gives us a strong sense of all that had to happen in order to get this rock opera to the stage. Rent is somewhat of an autobiographical piece of work, as Larson lived and breathed so many of the elements that became part of the details of his show. He lived in New York pushing hard and deliberate as a starving artist with a goal and a dream. He shared many of the same hopes and fears as the epic characters that endeared in Rent, struggling day to day with some of the same poor living conditions, like the illegal wood-burning stove in the middle of their apartment, a bathtub sitting center in his kitchen, a broken door buzzer that made it imperative that his guests call up from the pay phone across the street. These slices of authenticity made their way into the musical creating a piece that breathes with an air of honesty, and Stratford, in ways that I can’t quite put my finger on, has unearthed that same quality, energy, and connection. It feels scrappy yet so solidly produced and performed by a strong cast of singers and actors that give you the right combination of youthful edge and strong fiery devotion to the tale at hand. As directed by Thom Allison (Stratford’s Into the Woods; Broadway’s Priscilla, Queen of the Desert), Rent shockingly does the impossible. It finds its way through, giving you the desperate energy of a young artist, mixed with vocals that soar with the material and the emotional heart of a caring complicated community that fight and love equally. Just like that first batch of actors/singers that I saw when Rent first opened on Broadway at the Nederlander Theatre back in 1996.

The cast is a unit to be reckoned with, drawing you into each of their personal battles, some more successfully than others, yet none fail to engage, especially when they start singing any and all of Larson’s diabolically good songs. On Broadway, Rent was celebrated, gaining popularity fueled by enthusiastic reviews, and winning several awards, including the Pulitzer Prize for Drama and the Tony Award for Best Musical. Stratford has miraculously tackled this well-loved piece, making it their own on that thrust stage of the Festival Theatre. Designed with an impeccable eye for energy and edge by Brandon Kleiman (Musical Stage/Canadian Stage’s Blackout), with superb lighting by Michael Walton (Stratford’s Chicago), projections by Corwin Ferguson (Shaw’s Brigadoon), and sound by Joshua D. Reid (Broadway’s A Christmas Carol), fear doesn’t grab hold here, as they, assisted strongly by the musical director, Franklin Brasz (Mirvish’s Billy Elliot), dig in deep, fleshing out the drama without ever losing track of their human soul.

Usher us through, Robert Markus (Stratford’s Tommy; Mirvish’s Dear Evan Hansen) magnificently delivers us into bohemia as the solitary stand-in for Larson, Mark Cohen, the videographer who is trying desperately to create a sense of community with his fellow artists and friends. His energy is exacting and dynamic, as is the captivating Kolton Stewart (Stratford’s Macbeth; Disney’s “Disenchanted“) as the sexy tortured musician, Roger Davis, struggling with a heap of personal trauma all of his own. Stewart’s voice soars, filling in the spaces with utter grief and despair quite beautifully, finding as much pain and sadness within his songs as Andrea Macasaet (Broadway’s Six) does in her powerfully raw portrayal of the exciting marvelous mess that is Mimi Marquez. The danger and fragility she brings to the part are as electric and thrilling as Erica Peck (Stratford’s The Rocky Horror Show) and Olivia Sinclair-Brisband (Shaw’s Damn Yankees) portrayals of the quarreling firebrand lovers, Maureen Johnson and Joanne Jefferson. It’s explosive powder, just waiting to be lit, filled with love, fear, and fire. Both, and all really, are ready to fly over the moon or ignite and blow everyone away with their power and passion. Take me or leave me (and trust me, you’ll be taking with pleasure; every ounce offered).

Each and every one of these actors, costumed solidly and Broadway-reminiscent by Ming Wong (Bad Hats’ Alice in Wonderland), find their space and their fury, capturing us in their vocal power while delivering us into that very special place we long for. But the true beating heart of the musical lives and breaths in the desperately well-written character, Angel Dumott Schunard, played nimbly and perfectly by Nestor Lozano Jr. (Globe’s Shrek The Musical), and the love that is shared with captivating Tom Collins, embodied by the man with that voice, Lee Siegel (Broadway’s Paradise Square), giving us goosebumps of delight and despair when that richness of voice and heart align and unleash. It is in their attachment that the essence of this musical draws out the tears and the tremors of love and devotion, and for that, we are truly blessed. 

The musical, even when unpacking almost melodramatic operatic tones to abundance, finds a way to transcend all that and engineer a connection that registers, thanks to the combustible choreography of Marc Kimelman (The Rev’s State Fair), who delivers empowerment and anger in the unifying nature of movement. I did miss the heightened dynamics of the Life Cafe’s long table, giving stage to the energy of “La Vie Bohème” and the joy, epic representation, and inclusive love within. The square, somehow, didn’t really do the trick that was needed, but that raised square space did work numerous times as a makeshift boxing ring for the battles delivered between, for example, Peck’s powerful Maureen and Sinclair-Brisbane’s ferocious Joanne. 

It also worked its magic when Stewart’s Roger and Markus’ Mark set fire to their frustration during the magnificent “What You Own” and join the others for the emotional hurricane that is “Goodbye Love.” That song forever rips my heart in two, as it also does every time I hear Mimi and Roger’s “Without You” and Angel and Tom’s tear-producing “I’ll Cover You“. The tension and energy are palpable, delivered with a youthful quality that ushers forth desperation and electricity, even if Stewart’s body language tends to exert itself at only a few temperatures and forms. A minor criticism, in a pool of awesome performances.

The musical remains strong and powerfully moving. But it’s the forever magnificent and emotional “Seasons of Love,” with the exceptionally fine work by soloists; Masini McDermott and Matthew Joseph, that, once again, fill me completely, ushering me back to the time when this young theatre junkie found himself overflowing with tears in the balcony of the Broadway’s Nederlander Theatre. It was a moment of connection that I will never forget, and this Stratford revitalization has done the impossible, with love, taking me back to that place and time. Holding my hand and allowing me to cry once again for Rent‘s savage beauty, its utter brilliance, for the loss of its creator, and all the others who died from AIDS who I knew (or didn’t know). Being an older gay man who lived many of his early years in the East Village, who went to maybe more funerals in his twenties and thirties than Sunday brunches at the Life Cafe, Larson created a piece that fostered a strong and scrappy art culture that lived and breathed in its “One Song Glory.” And within those Stratford theatre walls and on that stage lives a space where his musical thrives. Sadly Larson didn’t live to see the opening night at this downtown Off-Broadway theatre. Larson died suddenly at the age of 35 of an aortic aneurysm the night before Rent’s first preview, but the rock musical lives on, fueled by the same passion that created it, shaping a generation with its spectacular (award-winning) glory; a generation that includes me as one of its ardent fans. And I couldn’t be happier to have experienced it all again at the Stratford Festival.