Man, I loved this so much in high school. Went to see it on Broadway my freshman year of college. But it is cringingly outdated now. I'm not sure how much of it is how outdated it is or the feeling of looking back on something you loved as a teen with adult eyes (teenage me thought One Song Glory was SO DEEP).
Go to the link if you want to hear the songs.
Still love Seasons of Love though SORRY NOT SORRY.
In the 20 years since Rent's Broadway debut on April 29, 1996, its status as an important piece of art has devolved from musical wunderkind to frequent punchline.
Slowly, and then seemingly all at once, Jonathan Larson's earnest rock musical came to be regarded more as a relic, a footnote in conversations about Broadway's current genre-bending shows like Hamilton and Fun Home, or even just a straight-up joke.
But when it was new, Rent — which transplants the Parisian bohemians of Puccini's La Boheme to the grime of 1989 New York — was hailed as "glittering" and "inventive" by the New York Times. It quickly became a sensation, winning the Tony for best musical and a Pulitzer for drama, running for a full 12 years, and inspiring many people — including Hamilton creator Lin-Manuel Miranda — to look at musicals in a different way.
So what happened?
Rent isn't just about the 1990s. It embodies the 1990s.
It was inevitable that Rent would fall from grace; anything so universally lauded will eventually encounter some pushback. But Rent is neither as great a musical as many people originally thought, nor quite as bad as its most fervent detractors would rant about to you now.
The thing is, Rent hasn't aged well because Larson wrote a musical that was entirely of its time. Looking back at Rent today, after 20 years of pop culture progression, is a little like listening to music on a cassette tape. Why revisit an outdated format now that we have MP3s and streaming?
When it comes to 1990s time capsules, though, you can't do much better than Rent. Sure, it was technically set in 1989, but the musical is far more about the decade's response to the '80s than anything else.
Rent tackled the frustrated, defiant aftermath of the first wave of the AIDS crisis, putting HIV positive characters at the forefront. It was deliberately diverse, with queer characters and a cast that featured Hispanic and black leads. It was held together by alt-rock and grunge. It sneered at gentrification — embodied by Taye Diggs's sellout landlord, Benny — and trumpeted the virtues of living your artistic truth, no matter how grimy things got.
The flip side of such of-the-moment subject matter, though, is the risk of quickly becoming outdated. Rent's music aped the popular music of the era, to mixed effect. The fact that Larson was once a well-off Westchester County kid who then delighted in the East Village's squalor inspired accusations that he had romanticized a terrible situation. When Rent was adapted into a movie in 2005 — with most of the original cast reprising their roles — it was almost universally shrugged at, but not just because director Chris Columbus's big screen version was lacking. Roger Ebert, in his review of the film, questioned the integrity of the musical itself:
If you stand back from the importance of "Rent" as a cultural artifact and a statement about AIDS, does it stand on its own as a musical? I don't think so.
... The words and the music sometimes play as if two radios have been left on at the same time ... The music serves the choreography, the words serve the story, but they don't serve one another.
Rent's receding relevance is also in large part thanks to the aging of its audience. As those who might have watched Rent with starry-eyed fantasies of chasing an artistic dream got older, some became less sympathetic with the scrappy vagabonds. Some even launched full-throated defenses of Benny, who maybe wasn't a sellout, after all.
Even the perpetually stoned and outrageous heroines of Comedy Central series Broad City took Rent to task in the show's second season, as Abbi and Ilana drunkenly rambled about "how they thought they just didn’t have to pay rent." And if two of television's biggest and most defiant dirtbags can't relate to your bohemian dream, it just might be a bit stale.
As the Billfold's Ester Bloom wrote in December:
Our culture has changed considerably since the '90s, and the show seems like a relic. Everyone but the oligarchs has a hard time paying rent in post-Giuliani New York City. That doesn’t mean we guilt-trip our yuppie friends into trying to let us live for free, the way the RENT characters do; it means that, if we choose to stay, we Make It Work: we move to the outer boroughs with roommates and/or take on several jobs at once.
If Rent's aging audience were the only reason it faded from prominence, however, a new generation might have found something new in the show by now. The trouble is, what set Rent apart when it first exploded in 1996 is now a huge reason for it feeling so distant from us in 2016.
A rock musical that leans so heavily on grunge and generic alt-rock doesn't work as well outside the context of the 1990s
As a "rock musical," Rent followed in the tradition of musicals like Hair and Tommy, shows that used popular music of their respective time periods within the context of an established musical structure. Larson himself even took to calling it "Hair for the '90s" as he was creating it.
Larson — who famously died of an aneurysm the night of Rent's final dress rehearsal — wasn't just a fan of rock music. He was a musical devotee who named Broadway royalty Stephen Sondheim as a mentor. He took so much pride in being able to write music in a wide variety of genres that he reportedly broke up with a woman who doubted he could write "an authentic gospel song."
And indeed, Rent allows room for genres outside of rock, like the aforementioned gospel, pop, a surprising tango, and of course, the Broadway musical itself. Then-burgeoning stars Diggs, Jesse L. Martin, and Idina Menzel have since found success both on Broadway and off, none of them relying on the alt-rock lite that launched their careers.
But the couple at the heart of Rent lives and dies by rock. As originally played by Adam Pascal and Daphne Rubin-Vega, Roger and Mimi sing and scream at each other in any combination of passion, rage, and heartbreak.
Roger's desperate ballad "One Song Glory" lets the failing rock star rip through soaring verses. Mimi's "Out Tonight" — a fierce ode to living life as freely and dangerously as you want — is a welcome jolt of energy midway through the first act. Mimi and Roger's raspy voices deliberately catch on high notes to sell the emotion pulsing behind them.
The worst of Rent's rock star aspirations, though, lies between its spotlight songs. Fittingly, for a musical based on an opera, Rent is largely comprised of narrative recitatives, or interim text that's sung between individual songs. Musicals that employ a more operatic structure rarely contain spoken lines outside the songs, so that if you buy the album, you can listen to the full musical (a style that current hit Hamilton also uses, much to the delight of everyone who can't go see it in person).
All of Rent's yowled, yelled recitatives belong to '90s rock. And it's not that '90s rock is a lesser genre, or one that can't be adapted to a Broadway stage. It's that Rent's interpretation of it only commits in fits and starts; it's never fully convincing, even when it's being performed by a protagonist who supposedly harbors rockstar dreams. As Dave Molloy wrote on the difficulties of staging a convincing rock musical:
Great rock musicians spend years finding their sound, but most rock musical theater composers sound like they are composing inside a bubble, without ever having played in rock bands or spent any time immersed in the music they are imitating.
Even if Larson loved rock, Rent displays only a passing interest in what makes it tick.
And as a vehicle for delivering Broadway banter, rock is tricky. Great rock comes out of songs that swell and sway, building to an explosive chorus or slick bridge. Rent's rock interludes, functioning as brief snippets of dialogue being traded in the grander scheme of musical banter, feel weirdly abbreviated, building toward nothing but a quick quip.
Rent's alt-rock roots emerge in unflattering bursts, particularly as Roger and his best friend Mark exchange words and frustrations in uninspired half-rhymes. These moments feel less like part of a greater whole than randomly ripped Foo Fighters lyrics, fed through a Broadway filter.
Sondheim thought highly of Larson's ability to create narratives through song, but wasn't shy about his doubts that pop and Broadway could successfully mix. Shortly before Rent opened, he told the New York Times that Larson was "attempting to blend contemporary pop music with theater music, which doesn't work very well."
Sondheim further added that Larson "was on his way to finding a real synthesis," implying that Rent didn't quite hit the mark. That's perhaps best embodied by "Your Eyes," the song Roger writes and performs for Mimi that's supposed to bring him glory, and her back to life, at the end of the musical — but one of Rent's flattest songs by far.
And when you look back at Rent's legacy, it becomes clear that the musical's best and most enduring numbers — "La Vie Boheme," "Take Me or Leave Me," and yes, "Seasons of Love" — are not the show's rock numbers.
Jonathan Larson intentionally wrote a musical that mostly sounded like what you could hear on pop music radio, as a means of making the story of La Boheme and his beloved, endangered East Village even more relevant to the era in which he was living. If people could see the plight of impoverished artists defiantly staring death in the face, portrayed in a familiar manner, maybe they also could feel it, in a way they might not have otherwise.
The only problem with relying on what's popular at the moment you write it is that time doesn't stop. If you want to move generations beyond the present, you have to tap into more than current trends as a means of communicating. Pop culture references fade — and if you depend on them too much, you risk losing your message, too.
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Post by eponinepontmercy on Apr 29, 2016 19:48:36 GMT -5
I think a lot of it doesn't hold up. Plus, if Roger spent all that time writing just to come up with that awful "Your Eyes" he should try finding a real job.
I think a lot of it doesn't hold up. Plus, if Roger spent all that time writing just to come up with that awful "Your Eyes" he should try finding a real job.
Team Benny.
Right, when the song you sing about how you want to write a song is a hundred times better than the song you actually write, maybe it's time to sell out and do data entry or something.
Post by Velar Fricative on Apr 29, 2016 20:09:12 GMT -5
I mean...so?
I've never seen Rent, I've just listened to songs here and there (especially Seasons of Love, because duh). It's a 90s musical and its biggest crime is that it's so 90s? Really? I am rolling my eyes.
Post by UMaineTeach on Apr 29, 2016 20:10:07 GMT -5
Maybe because I came to it late, but I always viewed it as a period piece that was meant to tell the story of a specific time and place, rather than a contemporary piece meant to stand the test of time.
More in line with Streets of Philadelphia or that other AIDS movie I can't remember.
Post by Jalapeñomel on Apr 29, 2016 20:39:52 GMT -5
I hated Rent, I just wanted them to get a job and quit whining.
Regardless, I'm sure the same criticism would go to Angels in America which was brilliant. But they are both dated, and I don't think either one of them would hold up if they re-staged the original versions.
Maybe because I came to it late, but I always viewed it as a period piece that was meant to tell the story of a specific time and place, rather than a contemporary piece meant to stand the test of time.
More in line with Streets of Philadelphia or that other AIDS movie I can't remember.
The movie was Philadelphia. "Streets of Philadelphia" is a most excellent song by Bruce. Not trying to be nitpicky, I just really love that song.
I thought the point of the movie was living your truth, even if you weren't a genius at your chosen craft. That's what I took from it. For some reason I thought Larson botched Your Eyes on purpose to show that.
At any rate, it's one of my favorites. Viva la 90's.
I'd probably still cry today listening to it. It was one of the first broadway shows I ever saw. And while I very quickly got sick of seasons of love that year, I was just thinking about it last weekly fondly. It really was good.
Post by underwaterrhymes on Apr 29, 2016 21:28:32 GMT -5
I loved it then and I love it now.
I heard the soundtrack for the first time when I was serving in the Peace Corps back in 2000 and one of the first things I did when I returned to the States was to buy tickets to see it.
I saw it on broadway with a bunch of classmates when I was in high school and we took a trip to NYC. I found it very impactful and still really enjoy the music.
Looking back, I'm actually a little surprised they let us see it.