by B.W. Cook
Los Angeles Times
August 8, 1998

"There is no day but today" belts the multi-talented, multi-faceted, multi-ethnic cast of the Broadway musical "Rent" opening at The Orange County Performing Arts Center on Wednesday. It was the final song, the final moment of the rock opera set in urban New York City in a milieu of drugs, HIV, sexual experimentation, transvestism and dashed dreams.
Can't you just hear Rogers and Hammerstein at the "Rent" pitch meeting?

"Let me get this straight gentlemen ... you want to do a musical about modern life in New York City where two young male roommates, Roger and Mark, live together in an industrial loft without heat, plumbing or electricity.

Roger hasn't left the joint in six months because his girlfriend committed suicide when she heard the tragic news of her HIV-positive status, which means that Roger, too, is in trouble. Meanwhile, on the street just outside their loft, HIV-positive friend Tom Collins (not the drink) is mugged and receives help from a street musician named Angel, who also happens to be HIV positive. They fall in love, Angel becomes a drag queen (great legs, great voice), only in the end, dies from AIDS. Now where did you say was the big first-act love song?" There is actually no point in dissing the plot of "Rent." It is a bonafied, Tony Award-winning success. "Rent" has captured the elusive emotional cord of a vast public, including more than its share of "Rent" groupies who follow the show from city to city, cheering the stars and the moments of transformation and revelation in the production.

The Center, in a public relations move that proved quite successful, offered $20 front-row orchestra seats to "Rent" lovers who showed up at an appointed time and place to claim their box-office bonanza. Lines were around the block, fans were in a frenzy. It was a Kodak moment, and cameras rolled to capture the excitement.

So why then has a show about AIDS and homosexuality, poverty and drugs captured the American theatrical heart? Jonathan Larson, the creator of "Rent," posthumously won Tony Awards in 1996 for Best Musical, Best Score, Best Book and Best Actor. The show has received the New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Musical. It has garnered Drama Desk Awards, Outer Critics Circle Awards, The Drama League Award, The Obie Awards, The Theater World honors. Unfortunately, Larson died suddenly at age 35 before the world paid attention to his message. Life, in its cruelest sense, imitating art to the utmost degree.

Perhaps in this sadness, in this irony, is also the message of "Rent," echoed by the cast in that final song, "There is No Day But Today." The past is over, the future is unknown, all we really have is the moment, now. This is and has always been true. It is a theme repeated in literature for centuries.

Punctuated with dramatic moments designed as calls from home, "Rent" paints a picture of the division of society between generations, parent to child, have to have not, traditionalist to reformist to revolutionary, and most importantly between the person who will live, and the person who will not live, inflicted with HIV.

The blurring of sexual lines is only one aspect of this drama of people looking for connection. If love and commitment do not exist between a man and a woman, it may exist between two women or two men. "Rent" reflects the exploration of the young in this regard. In so doing, it is dangerous for some, harsh for others, blasphemous for still more. But it is real, like it or not.
And in a week when news headlines pronounce that the world-wide Anglican Church fathers are denouncing homosexual practice as unholy and unacceptable as part of the body of Christ, the actors on the stage of "Rent," and the audiences flocking to witness the event are asking, "Who's right is it to interpret the will of God? Does God judge or does man judge, and who matters most? Moreover, what matters most, a pure heart or one that has sold out to the standards and practices of the time, as Roger sings to Mark in the powerful song, "What You Own" in the second act.

Following the performance of "Rent" on Thursday evening, the second night of the show at Segerstrom Hall, cast and crew mingled with the Orange Coast crowd at Pinot Provence, Joachim Splichal's newly opened bistro at the Westin South Coast Plaza hotel.

Amidst the contrasting splendor of this richly appointed French country home created to serve customers as a restaurant in the middle of South Coast Metro, the well-dressed and comfortable faced the question of relevance concerning the disturbing postulates of "Rent," as they sipped champagne and enjoyed the good life in a new restaurant that is the epitome of taste and restraint in a traditional setting.

Talk at Pinot Provence centered on the message of "Rent." It is no wonder it has captured the imagination and the attention of the critical world. The big question posed, which we must ask ourselves is, what kind of a world are we passing to the next generation? What are we really doing to eradicate AIDS, to discourage the use of drugs, to foster loving relationships, family values, and hope for the future?

If what we offer is just lip service and hypocrisy, if we who raise children do not lead by clear example of what we believe to be righteous and humanitarian, then there really is no hope. And, the world is up for grabs.

"How do you measure a year in the life?" questions the cast of "Rent" in the song "Seasons of Love." Life, I believe, is measured by purity of heart and by the positive actions and deeds of individuals. Tomorrow is another opportunity to catch up -- to pay the rent.