by James D. Watts, Jr.
Tulsaworld.com
August 31, 2000

It sounds like a throwaway line, a phrase to bring the title song of "Rent" to an anthemic close: "Everything is rent."

That is a perfectly acceptable way to hear that particular line, just as it is perfectly acceptable to see the late Jonathan Larson's musical simply as a "Hair" for the new millennium, a celebration of youth and rebellion, of life on the fringes of society, of love and hope in a time and place when either of these emotions can kill.

After all, that is what "Rent" is -- at least, on the surface. Which brings us back to that "Everything is rent" line, back to the title of show itself, back to the reason why "Rent" has become the phenomenon it is.

"Rent" is a verb. And "Rent" the musical -- which had its Oklahoma premiere Tuesday at the Tulsa Performing Arts Center -- is really about all the things we do, that we don't do, that we can't stop from happening, that rip our lives apart.

The fact that Larson set his musical in the demimonde of New York City's East Village, and peopled it with junkies and transvestites, artists and activists, lawyers and landlords, hetero- and homosexuals, does not limit the impact of the show's message.

Larson used these particular people in this particular place to address some universal ideas about love and hope and community -- how fragile these things are, and how they must be tended and cherished.

Life is already fragile for the people of "Rent." It's Christmas Eve and it seems as if more than a year is coming to an end.

Mark (Matt Caplan), an aspiring filmmaker, and Roger (Joshua Kobak), a songwriter, have learned that their former roommate-turned-landlord Benny (Brian M. Love) has decided they need to pay the year's worth of rent they owe.

Benny then offers a way to get out of paying: convince Mark's former girlfriend Maureen (Erin Keaney) not to present her performance art piece protesting Benny's plan to raze the building and displace the homeless people living in the lot next door.

Meanwhile, Maureen's new lover Joanne (Jacqueline B. Arnold) is getting fed up with the show's sound system she's trying to fix and with Maureen's tendency to flirt with literally anyone who catches her eye.

And another former roommate of Mark's and Roger's, the philosophy professor-turned-computer anarchist Collins (Mark Richard Ford) is on his way to the boys' flat when he gets mugged, losing his overcoat and finding an Angel (Shaun Earl).

Everyone is heading for Maureen's show except Roger. He hasn't left the room for nearly a year, ever since his girlfriend committed suicide -- right after telling him they had AIDS. That's why he's home when Mimi (Saycon Sengbloh) shows up, looking for someone to light the candle she carries.

The attraction is obvious and mutual, but Roger can't bring himself to pursue it -- first because of the disease he has, later because of his jealousy over Mimi's past relationship with Benny. Maureen and Joanne go through cycle after cycle of making up and breaking up. The one truly happy couple, Angel and Collins, suffers the most grievous loss. Mark records it all on film, while debating whether to take a paying job for a sleazy TV news show.

And just outside this circle of friends and lovers come the voices of homeless people sardonically listing all the things they aren't expecting for Christmas, the phone messages from clueless parents, the questions of people trying to live with AIDS and wondering what they will lose as their lives slip away.

Larson stated that one of his goals was to write "musical theater for the MTV generation." He succeeded with "Rent" -- the music has the undeniable, visceral energy of rock; the show itself seems to be as much concert as theater.

What makes the score of "Rent" so effective, however, is that Larson coupled that energy with an impressive amount of musical sophistication. This kid could write, no question. "Rent" is full of memorable melodies -- "One Song Glory," "Another Day," "Santa Fe," "Seasons of Love" -- with lyrics that are at once poetic and conversational.

But even more, Larson had a wonderful sense of harmony, as you hear in the gorgeous choral writing in "Will I?", and a fine sense of parody, evidenced in the tango number, "Maureen," the satirical madrigal that is "Voice Mail No. 5," and the hilariously bad performance art piece, "Over the Moon."

The cast for this production is uniformly strong. Kobak, the understudy taking over for an indisposed Cary Shields, was exceptional as Roger. Sengbloh captures the sass and vulnerability of Mimi in "Light My Candle" and the randy "Out Tonight."

Ford, as Collins, has a wonderfully smooth baritone that he uses to great effect in the wishful "Santa Fe" and the touching "I'll Cover You." Earl makes Angel an indelible presence, whether simply standing on stage or cavorting through the wickedly funny "Today 4 U." Marcus Chaney and Maia Nkenge Wilson have some standout moments.

"Rent" is loud -- at times too loud, making it impossible to appreciate the lyrics. It's also a little raunchy -- the language can get profane, the gestures can get lewd -- but not to excess.

"Rent" is not a show for everyone. But those who choose to become a tenant in Larson's vision will find it a thrilling, touching, deeply human experience.