by Christopher Blank
St. Petersburg Times
January 11, 2000

The night before the musical Rent opened for its first Broadway preview in 1996, its composer and lyricist Jonathan Larson left rehearsal, returned to his grungy, walk-up apartment and died. He was 10 days short of his 36th birthday.

The aortic aneurysm that struck as he was boiling water for a poor artist's dinner has since become the resounding bass note in what Time magazine called the "most exuberant and original American musical of the '90s."

Rent is the composer's last message to the world: a straight-up documentary of city life and a rocking jolt to conventional musical theater.

* * *

However, with the close of the '90s, and also the premature close of Rent in London due to slow ticket sales, critics wonder if Larson's masterpiece is passing its prime.

At what point will Larson's snapshot become a dated entry in the album of American musicals, where bellbottoms and tie-dye shirts appear under Hair, legwarmers and sweatbands are listed under Fame, and polyester suits are indexed under Saturday Night Fever?

Al Larson, the composer's father, is among those who say Rent is far more than a passing fad. The 74-year-old retired businessman, who has seen the show hundreds of times, says its theme -- partly about living life to the fullest through love -- transcends the '90s.

"It's a play that speaks to his (Jonathan's) peers, but my peers also," Larson said from his home in Albuquerque. "It's a realistic story about how the world really is. I see children coming to the play who are young enough to be Jonathan's children. I constantly meet teenagers who are wrapped up in it."

Maybe it's the music. What the bombastic Phantom of the Opera did for musical theater students in the '80s, Rent has done for them in the '90s.

Then, again, maybe it's popular because everybody likes to identify with a struggling artist.

The play's characters represent the artists, poets, thinkers, beggars and lovers Larson knew. Some of them sneer at the threat of death from HIV. Others live the Bohemian life style, waiting tables, holding odd jobs, hoping that the big break will soon come. They are practically kids, dressed in street clothes, pierced and tattooed.

It was as if Larson had looked out the window of his dismal apartment, with a bathtub crammed into the kitchen, and painted a musical portrait of his life, as did Puccini's Parisian opera La Boheme set in the 1830s, upon which Rent was based.

Larson also hoped to write a musical that would rescue Broadway from the cookie-cutter pattern of productions that had lost touch with young audiences.

Larson's statement was heard in 1996 when his posthumous opus swept all the major awards bestowed on Broadway musicals: the Pulitzer Prize for drama, four Tony Awards, six Drama Desk Awards and three Obie Awards, among others.

As the last four years of the production's success have shown, Rent still draws some of the most demographically diverse crowds of any musical theater show.

Scanning the auditorium, one sees the stately gray pates of the usual theater patrons mingling with the bleached, shaved and spiked "Rentheads." In keeping with the Broadway tradition, the seats in the first two rows of every show are $20, and can be purchased only by walk-ups, that is, by folks who stand in line at the box office, sometimes overnight, like at rock concerts.

Though the show is unapologetically sentimental, there is an honest quality to it that other contemporary musicals lose to mawkishness. Many scenes are autobiographical. There was Larson's girlfriend, who once left him for another woman. Then there is the moment when a set of keys is tossed from an apartment window. One can imagine that behind the window is a kitchen, occupied by a giant bathtub.

In gritty '90s fashion (like an MTV casting call), most of the original actors had never been on Broadway before. Adam Pascal, who played the original Roger, sang in a heavy-metal band. Idina Menzel, who played Maureen, was a wedding singer who had never acted before. The show's producers still look for fresh talent by auditioning off-off Broadway for the touring companies.

Winter Haven native Maggie Benjamin is among the new talent in the company appearing at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center. She joins Cary Shields (Roger), who made his theatrical debut with Rent; Shaun Earl (Angel), who comes from the Broadway cast; Saycon Sengbloh (Mimi); Scott Hunt (Mark); Stu James (Benny); Haorace V. Rogers (Tom Collins), and Michelle Joan Smith (Maureen).

And as Rent continues to survive with its evolving cast and changing times, so does Jonathan Larson's spirit, thanks in part to his father. When a new company opens Rent, Al Larson flies to that city and delivers a pep talk. He tells the cast about Jonathan, the destitute artist who had placed all his hopes on Rent, his only fully produced work. He mentions the "crummy feeling" he had walking up the three flights of stairs to Jonathan's apartment. And he talks about the night after his son died.

"It was supposed to be the first preview performance. We assembled at the theater. I was in a stupor. They started out sitting on the stage, just reading. They sang a few of the songs. When it was over, people just sat quietly in their seats. Finally, somebody -- I don't know who -- said, "Thank you, Jonathan Larson.' I remember saying to somebody, "I hope this show is a hit and becomes a living testimonial to Jonathan'."

Along with the pep talk, Al Larson gives each new company a woodcarving made by Jonathan's uncle. The inspirational totem, which the cast carries with them on the road in memory of Rent's departed creator says simply, "Thank you, Jonathan Larson."