Seattle Sidewalk
September 4, 1998

Sweat, blood and rock opera tears: the cast of Rent works hard for the money.

You might not have gotten down to the rock operas that shook two Seattle venues over the past year. Off the beaten path, Little Boy (Open Circle Theatre) traveled to hell and back, staged in an abandoned warehouse; and El Cid (Printer's Devil Theatre) revived the 12th century epic poem à la garage rock in a vacant restaurant's kitchen.

While both were explosive joys, it's Jonathan Larson's higher-amp Rent, the 1996 Broadway sensation that's spawned four national tours, that will puncture the most eardrums. Putting down roots at the Moore, it's most likely the first rock opera people will see since The Who howled through Tommy, or before that, when Andrew Lloyd Webber gave birth to Jesus Christ Superstar. In the midst of Broadway's constant flood of musical revivals and period pieces, it's damn well time for a bold break from the usual petticoat melodies.

Rent rocks hard — burning the candle at both ends for almost three hours. Sizzling with a bump-and-grind cast of 23 gritty/glossy faces, the show sears musical expectations. Based on Puccini's 1896 La boheme, one of the top rankers in the opera repertoire, Rent reignites the romantic story of starving Paris artists with cover stories from Rolling Stone. Alternative filmmaking, AIDS, crack addiction, gay/lesbian love in the '90s, all the hot topics make a brash stand in Larson's musical.

The plot: Guitar-rocker Roger's recovering from drug addiction and other woes; his filmmaker roommate Mark's getting over his girlfriend Maureen dumping him. They share a cold New York apartment; they can't pay their rent. Their tech-brainiac friend Tom gets bashed outside their apartment; he's helped by drag queen Angel. They're both HIV positive; they fall in love. (Take a breath with me: there's much more.)

Roger and Mark's ex-roommate in poverty, Ben, has married into money, bought his old apartment building, and plans to clear out the squatters in order to develop the building into a high-tech production studio. Maureen and Joanne (Mark's ex and, to his chagrin, her new girlfriend) plan to throw a performance-art demonstration against the house-clearing. The plot complications spiral fast over Rent's nearly three hours: Roger meets Mimi, a crack-addicted stripper; Mark might sell out to a tabloid TV show; characters whimsically fall in and out love, while Tom may well lose Angel to AIDS.

So many unapologetic topics, in so short a time — Rent is far from the American musical norm. Likewise, the stripped-down staging and sheer energy of the cast make this an unusual musical experience. With only a wooden loft to the left, junk-crammed scaffolding to the right and a rock band packed off to the side, Rent makes space for what makes this show blaze: an ensemble whose performance seems as inexhaustible as their bohemian characters' passions.

Enjoying every minute in the spotlight: Julia Santana as the sultry -voiced stripper Mimi.

Adrian Lewis Morgan as tortured rocker Roger nimbly offers both guttural growls and golden sweetness in a vocal delivery that constantly electrifies the show. Scott Hunt as chic-geek Mark provides a limber base line, bounding around in docu-drama mode with cam in hand. Julia Santana lends a skintight performance and sultry voice to her grit-caked role as Mimi. But Rent is truly an ensemble piece, drawing upon constant contributions from all directions. A solo song quickly becomes duet — with each refrain adding more cast members to the stage, until the entire cast burns through a vocal climax. While the first act's climaxes come too generously for the audience to take a breather (or smoke a cigarette), the second act thankfully slows down with a few torch-styled songs dimming the mood amid the aerobic pyrotechnics. But it's all a feast for the eyes, and you won't be able to stop gorging on the performance.

The musical styles also change with hedonistic abandon. Led by conductor/keyboardist Robert Sprayberry, the six-piece rock band tears through '80s-pop melodies, Jamaican grooves, cha-cha beats, techno dance rhythms, Christmas hymns and countless other musical snippets, keeping the ears just as entertained as the eyes. A few thrilling songs throw Rent into overdrive: "One Song Glory," sung with Morgan's tire-burning vocals, kicks the musical into the throes of bohemian desperation early on; and "What You Own," with Hunt joining Morgan for a speeding indictment of the American status quo, accelerates the show ever faster, well into Rent's third hour.

Keeping the cast from traffic-jamming at the intimate Moore Theatre, director Michael Greif puts the sexy permutations of cast members and chorus numbers in constant churn, and Marlies Yearby's choreography keeps the cast at a steady simmer of activity. In Rent's dozens of numbers, the total effect boils over into white static only a few times.

With the touring show arriving on the wings of the Broadway Rent's Pulitzer and other impressive awards — as well as the elegiac public generosity toward the show due to creator Jonathan Larson's tragic death shortly before the New York premiere — it's understandable to be cautious about such a well-hyped show rolling into town. But despite a few flat effects, Rent works harder than most American musicals for its keep. One caution: While the show's ensemble work shines brightest, Adrian Lewis Morgan and his sexy-viper stylings will be leaving the role of Roger on Sept. 8. Despite his replacement, Rent should remain a musical that shouldn't be missed.

Cheap Rent: In continuation of the Broadway Rent tradition, cheap tickets for the first two rows will go on sale before every performance. At $20 per seat (cash only), expect a long line of die-hards, all trying to get there earlier than others in hopes of getting the primo seats, which go on sale two hours before the show. Limit: two tickets per person in line.