by Everett Evans
Houston Chronicle
August 17, 2000

A terrific cast sparks the return engagement of Rent, back at Jones Hall through Sunday for the first time since its Houston premiere in March 1998.

Gutsy and gritty, Jonathan Larson's contemporary equivalent of Puccini's La Boheme is a rock-infused musical that really works. Despite the occasional trite line, the score is varied and suited to the story, characters and setting.

Rather than a string of sound-alike pop numbers, Rent offers a continuous web of musical-theater scenes, including several extended ensembles. Though not especially generous in take-home tunes (individual lines and fragments are sometimes more memorable than overall numbers), Rent tells a heart-grabbing story, rich in emotional complexity and social relevance.

True, it is difficult for Rent to live up to the hype that greeted its 1996 premiere, first off-Broadway, then on. From Broadway's desperate desire for a show with youthful appeal to the tragedy of creator Larson's death from an aortic aneurysm just weeks before the off-Broadway opening, Rent was received as if it were Show Boat, West Side Story and Sweeney Todd rolled into one mega-hit.

It's not quite that -- yet it's a powerful work that deserves its Tony and Pulitzer Prize wins. Its anarchic spirit seems genuine, its youthful appeal authentic rather than commercially calculated.

Set in New York's Lower East Side in the mid-1990s, Rent depicts struggling artists dealing with tough contemporary issues: AIDS, drug addiction, commercial exploitation -- and just paying the rent.

The opera's Rodolpho becomes Roger, the HIV-infected musician hoping to write one great song before he goes. Mimi, his lover, is no longer a tubercular seamstress but an AIDS-stricken club dancer. Marcello becomes Mark, Roger's roommate, a documentary filmmaker and the show's acerbic narrator.

Others in the set are genial philosophy professor Tom Collins; his new lover, the drag queen Angel; Maureen, a performance artist who recently dumped Mark; and lawyer Joanne, Maureen's new lover. Benny, a former roommate of Roger and Mark, is a "sellout" who now owns their building and wants to evict them all in favor of commercial development.

Michael Greif's punchy direction is intact, keeping the story both hard-hitting and intimate. Paul Clay's rough-hewn setting, Angela Wendt's ragtag costumes and Blake Burba's stark lighting enhance the effect.

Yet what really puts the show over this time around is a uniformly strong cast that acts and sings the show effectively and affectingly. This crew conveys the right youthful spirit and resiliency, resisting the temptation to play the characters as victims.

Cary Shields' Roger benefits from his powerful singing and sympathetic acting, which make the character's plight real, especially in his signature number One Song Glory. Dominique Roy, stepping in as Mimi at Wednesday's opening, made a dynamite heroine, racy, vibrant and plucky, especially in her vampy 'Out Tonight' show stopper, then ultimately making Mimi's deterioration quite moving.

Matt Caplan plays Mark with sardonic edge. Mark Richard Ford brings a huge voice and salt-of-the-earth persona to Collins. Shaun Early shines in the scene-stealing role of Angel, his impish humor and performer's presence keeping that now-standard character type (the adorable martyr/drag queen) from turning maudlin.

Courtney Corey, another understudy, gave Wednesday's opening-night audience a Maureen with the right satiric bite in her big "performance art" set piece (which kids the genre while still making Maureen's point about corporate takeover of American culture). Jacqueline B. Arnold acts a tough, worldly and wary Joanne, adding another big soulful voice. Brian M. Love manages to convey Benny's self-serving pragmatism while still suggesting some residual affection for his former pals.

The ensemble and band also perform with rip-roaring energy and fervor.