Rent – Tom Stoppard Theatre

Billy Nevers and Jeevan Braich in Rent at the Tom Stoppard Theatre, London. Picture: Pamela Raith

Rent continues at the Tom Stoppard Theatre, London until 29 May 2027.

Star rating: four stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ✩

There’s a buzz about the return of Jonathan Larson’s Rent to the West End that other musicals just don’t quite generate. Thirty years after its Broadway debut, this much-loved musical is still winning over new generations of theatregoers, while for those who remember the era in which it is set – the late 1980s and early 1990s – its return carries an added emotional weight.

Larson zoomed in on a time of uncertainty, social and economic division, poverty and tragedy, with the devastating impact of the AIDS epidemic hanging over a community. Then there is Rent’s significance within the canon and its influence on future musical theatre creators like Lin-Manuel Miranda, Steven Sater and Duncan Sheik. The great sadness, of course, is that Larson never lived to see the extraordinary success his work would achieve.

This revival began life in the intimate surroundings of Manchester’s Hope Mill Theatre, an atmosphere that might seem difficult to re-create in the West End. Yet David Woodhead’s design succeeds in capturing much of the gritty chaos of downtown New York, where a community of artists live, squat, work and hang out together. The tall windows of the loft apartment, TV screens displaying filmmaker Mark’s attempts at a documentary and curtains that reveal larger projections (video design by George Reeve and Nathan Amzi) give the production an impressive scale, while at its heart, just a table and a few chairs are needed for the core storytelling.

For some, the disjointed nature of Luke Sheppard’s production will be its selling point, reflecting the fact that, for many of these characters, life is anything but straightforward. There is a wonderful sense of freedom in the way the musical is performed, with the cast seemingly given space to inhabit these characters and their world without being overly constrained by conventional musical theatre polish.

Those living with HIV, like musician Roger, who is desperate to write one great song before time runs out, are scared to embrace life because they know just how little of it they may have left.

When Roger (Travis Ross) does venture outside his comfort zone, allowing himself to feel something for exotic dancer Mimi (Alexa Lopez), who also lives in his building, the effect is considerable. The staging and lighting (Howard Hudson) of Ross’ ‘One Song Glory’, followed by his duet with Alexa Lopez in ‘Without You’, are among the moments that stay with you long after you have left the theatre.

But it is the relationship between part-time professor and activist Collins (Billy Nevers) and drag queen and street drummer Angel (Jeevan Braich) that provides the show’s emotional heart. Beginning, as the show does, on New Year’s Eve, their developing love transcends the fear of what comes next. It is the most three-dimensional partnership in the production, with Nevers and Braich beautifully capturing both the joy and vulnerability of their relationship. Together they are captivating, their acting and vocal chemistry outstanding, and when Nevers sits alone, reprising ‘I’ll Cover You’ in Act II, it is heartbreaking.

Elsewhere, however, the disparate nature of the storytelling – the narrative often feeling more like a song cycle than a traditional musical – can make it harder to invest in the characters, however strong the performances. The numerous interconnecting scenes, phone calls and snapshots of life on the streets of New York keep the action moving at a relentless speed, but occasionally it feels as though the production needs to ease off and allow us to catch our breath and relish our time with the people at its heart, whether individually or as a group.

This is particularly noticeable in numbers such as ‘La Vie Bohème’, where the frenetic delivery means some of the lyrics are lost in the melee. Occasionally, the sound balance doesn’t help in this respect, but that is no reflection on the quality of the band, led by Katy Richardson from a raised platform at the back of the stage, or Bill Sherman’s memorable orchestrations. Yet that same sense of urgency can also be exhilarating.

The openings of both acts demonstrate the production at its best: Gaten Matarazzo makes a mighty fine West End debut as quasi-narrator Mark, Roger’s housemate, bringing huge energy to the title number, while the whole cast delivers ‘Seasons of Love’ with touching poignancy.

It takes a while for us to invest in the tempestuous relationship between Maureen (Lazy Violet) and Joanne (Danielle Fiamanya). As the show progresses, however, the pair are given more space to respond to one another and build the relationship. Their stage presence grows with it, and the sparks increasingly begin to fly, culminating in the riffing highlight that is ‘Take Me or Leave Me’.

Joaquin Pedro Valdes has the tricky challenge of playing Benny, the friend-turned-property developer and landlord regarded by his former friends as a sell-out, but he finds some welcome light and shade in the role.

Gabriella Slade does what she does so well, evoking the era through her costume designs at the same time as adding a contemporary edge, while Tom Jackson Greaves’ distinctive choreography showcases the work of the entire cast, including an excellent ensemble. Alongside Sheppard’s direction, the movement brings both power and poignancy to the proceedings and is one of the production’s most effective elements.

Rent has a phenomenal score, but the piece is not without its flaws and occasionally comes close to self-indulgence. Perhaps that is part of its appeal, though. Life was messy then, and life is messy now.

Larson’s great work encourages a new generation not only to learn more about the era in which it was written, but to question what is going wrong now. The show’s significance and relevance can be glimpsed in one of its very first lyrics: ‘How do you document real life / When real life’s getting more like fiction each day?’ And that was written more than 30 years ago.

Lisa Martland