by Michael Paskevich
Las Vegas Review Journal
October 30, 1999

The compelling characters in the generation-defining musical, "Rent" -- in residence at the Las Vegas Hilton through Nov. 7 -- seem like the spiritual offspring of the hippies in "Hair," the seminal rock musical that shook up Broadway when it opened in 1968.

Same for "Rent" some three decades later. The late Jonathan Larson's incisive look at modern Bohemians -- in a loose but palpable retelling of Giacomo Puccini's "La Boheme" -- earned a Pulitzer Prize for drama in 1996 along with quartet of Tony Awards, a half-dozen Drama Desk Awards and countless "best musical" touts from critics around the world.

Whereas "Hair" shocked many theater patrons via its advocacy of free love, marijuana as one of nature's gifts, (brief) nudity as freedom and a boundless optimism that a new age of unending bliss was dawning, "Rent" reveals the dark-side results of the naive nihilism of the late-'60s love generation.

Thus the thrift store-costumed characters who occupy an abandoned warehouse in New York City confront today's harsh reality of AIDS, heroin addiction, poverty and the sense that there's little reason to hope for a brighter future. Add a drag queen named Angel, principals playing lesbians and gays, a ramshackle set and a demanding lyrical rock score and it's understandable why a few seats turned vacant after Thursday night's intermission.

It's simply too tough of a go for some folks -- not a crime, of course -- but the spontaneous standing ovation awarded the cast at final curtain was anything but a fluke or a collective desire to appear attuned to alternative lifestyles.

"Rent" is a dense and challenging work that demands an attentive ear and a bit of patience. The plot unfolds slowly, the characters' relationships require a family tree (one is actually drawn inside the programs) and their overlapping speech and singing recalls film director Robert Altman ("M*A*S*H," "California Split") and his flair for realistic if overloaded dialogue.

A fine sextet of musicians conducted by Stephen Oremus lays down familiar-sounding pop-rock melodies and hooks from beneath an onstage overhang, and hearing the lyrics sung with uneven impact are crucial at comprehending the story line.

The Hilton's sound system and impressive lighting rig, both leftovers from the losing run of Andrew Lloyd Webber's flimsy "Starlight Express," fortunately come through with crisp and clean results on a stage cluttered with catwalks, strings of flickering lights and a tree-shaped mass of metal that looms over the players. A Chinese paper globe light shade that doubles as the moon enhances the intentionally impoverished look.

Mark, brightly played by a rumpled and wan-looking Scott Hunt, is a Harvard grad and wannabe indie filmmaker who serves as narrator and defacto leader of a clan of social misfit friends who share the unheated space they have taken over as squatters.

His closest friend is Roger (Christian Mena), a directionless and imposingly handsome young man who hopes to write at least one great song before he dies. Roger fumbles with his out-of-tune Fender electric guitar (acoustic when the power fails), finding a taut, repeated note rhythm that anchors an opening "Tune Up" interspersed with amusingly clueless phone messages from Mom. Mena, a real-life leader of a Latin pop band, has a strong tenor that meshes with with Hunt's slightly lower-pitched delivery and soars on "One Song Glory."

It's one of 20 songs that extend Act One to a semiwearying 90-minutes as the ensemble of the unemployed grows with the introductions of love-hounding drag queen Angel (Pierre Angelo Bayuga), ex-roommate Tom Collins (powerfully sung by Horace V. Rogers) and Joanne Jefferson (sung with riveting conviction by Jacqueline B. Arnold), the latter a woman who has taken over Mark's former duties as lover of mercurial Maureen (Michelle Joan Smith).

There's also Mimi (Julia Santana), a junkie who falls for Roger, a sagely bag lady (Maia Nkenge Wilson) and Mimi's ex-boyfriend Benny (Stu Davis), a former college bud of Mark and Roger who has married into wealth and wants to boot the group back on the streets so he can build a yuppiefied cyber-arts studio.

Santana, who overcomes her sometimes tenuous vocals with an emotive presence, teams with Mena on "Light My Candle," one of several recurring themes that thread throughout the work.

And if some of the show's songs are lacking strong harmonic structure, they are overcome by effective and more enduring tunes such as the ballad, "I'll Cover You," and the humorous "Tango: Maureen" wryly performed and danced by Cohen and Arnold in tribute to their shared confusion over what makes Maureen tick.

Smith, haphazardly dressed like Cyndi Lauper, plays Maureen with a joyous gusto and sly sense of humor that turns her performance-art-casualty take ("Over the Moon") into a crowd-rouser that had attendees mooing on cue. Maureen and lover Joanne are in a battle-prone affair but share their determination at saving the tribe's rundown abode.

That proves an uphill battle which, during the second act, contributes to a collective breakdown of "La Vie Boheme."

Will Roger abandon Mimi and live out the group's dream of opening a restaurant in Santa Fe, N.M.? Can Joanne and Maureen find a foundation for their affair ("Take Me or Leave Me")?

These well-crafted subplots take a backseat to the AIDS death of "Angel," a campy and often silent roommate who's presence and love of falling in love turns out to be the glue that binds the group together. Things rapidly fall apart.

The tighter second act adds more emotional resonance to the characters' no-future attitude and shared heartbreak. And no, some benefactor doesn't come bolting from the blue just to slap a silly happy ending on the wistful reality of the situation. However, their dwindling harmony is revived as "Rent" stresses the priceless value of friendship and camaraderie.

This expansive and challenging musical hasn't been dumbed down to appeal to the masses, making it all the more engaging and rewarding to theatergoers seeking a singular experience.