Review: RENT
By Alex Roy
Content warnings: this article contains mentions of AIDS, death, grief, addiction, and other themes which some viewers may find upsetting.
With the recent announcement that RENT will transfer to the West End this winter for a limited engagement at the Duke of York’s Theatre, there could scarcely have been a more fitting moment for Durham audiences to revisit Jonathan Larson’s landmark musical. Arriving during Pride Month, a period of both celebration and reflection for the communities whose stories are woven into the fabric of this piece, the production felt especially resonant.
That spirit of community extended beyond the stage itself. In support of Blue Sky Trust, Bailey Theatre Company pledged fifty per cent of all profits to the charity, a gesture entirely in keeping with the generosity and compassion that sit at the very heart of Larson’s work. Both this endeavour and the production itself were masterfully overseen by Production Manager Jonathan Wilson Downs, assisted by Carlos Davies.
I was left not merely admiring the performances, but marvelling at the stamina, professionalism and sheer determination that had made them possible
It must be acknowledged before delving any further that, on Thursday evening, the Assembly Rooms had become something of a furnace. Despite the continued efforts of the wonderful AR staff, the soaring temperatures proved challenging for all in attendance. Audience members undoubtedly deserve credit for enduring the heat and turning up regardless, but the true feat belonged to those on stage. To perform one of musical theatre’s most physically demanding scores under such conditions – rarely leaving the stage, dancing relentlessly under warm lights and navigating some of contemporary musical theatre’s most taxing vocal writing – was nothing short of astonishing. By the curtain call, I was left not merely admiring the performances, but marvelling at the stamina, professionalism and sheer determination that had made them possible.
Set in New York City’s East Village at the height of the AIDS epidemic, RENT follows a group of young artists as they grapple with love, grief, addiction, poverty and the ever-present spectre of loss. Loosely inspired by La Bohème, Larson’s musical is at once a political statement and an intimate portrait of found family, asking its characters – and indeed its audience – how one measures a life.
As befits a rock musical, RENT‘s score is driven by percussion and electric intensity, yet it is equally capable of moments of aching lyricism and seductive tenderness. Under the assured musical direction of Samuel Allan, assisted by Rose Seymour, the band became the production’s heartbeat, navigating Larson’s eclectic score with tremendous confidence. Particular praise must go to drummer Dan Hume, whose playing was consistently superb.
Consistently, the orchestra overwhelmed the voices on stage, obscuring lyrical detail and moments of emotional nuance
However, the production’s principal shortcoming lay in its sound balance. Consistently, the orchestra overwhelmed the voices on stage, obscuring lyrical detail and moments of emotional nuance. This was further hindered by microphones occasionally coming in too late, undercutting some otherwise poignant moments of storytelling. In a musical whose emotional potency rests so profoundly in the specificity of its lyrics, such moments occasionally blunted the production’s impact, with confused conversations in the interval highlighting the gravity of this.
Even so, Larson’s score remains one of contemporary musical theatre’s great achievements, oscillating effortlessly between blistering rock and aching lyricism. From the tentative flirtation of Light My Candle and the intoxicating abandon of La Vie Bohème to the devastating simplicity of No Day But Today, the score traverses a remarkable emotional landscape, and the band and the company embraced every inch of it.
Visually, the production was consistently impressive, with Libby Simpson’s set design proving its strongest creative element. The industrial metal framework immediately situated us within the world of RENT, evoking the harsh urbanity of Alphabet City with striking effectiveness. The raised upstage platform lent the space a welcome sense of depth, though its inclusion inevitably reduced the breadth of the downstage playing area. At times, I longed for slightly more room, particularly during larger ensemble choreographic sequences; this would have allowed Amanda Powers’ impressive choreography to come into its own. Yet, there was also something rather apt about the resulting claustrophobia; these are characters constrained by circumstance, fighting for space both physically and emotionally.
Elsewhere, the finer details of the design proved equally considered, testament to the work of set construction of Anna Devonshire, Ashley Zhou, and Shamaya Van Rossum. The painted boxes, adorned with Keith Haring-inspired graffiti and iconography, enriched the lived-in quality of the set, while the telephone box was ingeniously realised. The invocation of Haring’s visual language felt particularly apt; as one of the defining artists of downtown New York during the AIDS crisis, his presence served as a subtle act of world-building, demonstrating the creative team’s deep understanding of the cultural landscape from which RENT emerged. Every design choice felt distinctly and characteristically RENT.
Leading the company, Moritz Afridi’s Mark Cohen anchored the evening with remarkable assurance. Vis commitment to characterisation was unwavering, balancing Mark’s role as both participant and observer with impressive dexterity. Whether quietly documenting events from the sidelines with camera in hand or stepping forward to guide the audience through the narrative, Afridi remained consistently compelling. Vocally, ve possessed a striking clarity, while his chemistry with the wider company ensured that Mark’s emotional journey resonated deeply.
Visually, the production was consistently impressive, with Libby Simpson’s set design proving its strongest creative element
Opposite him, Adam Johnston delivered a gorgeously sung and tentatively performed Roger, capturing both the character’s guarded melancholy and the vulnerability that lies beneath it. His vocal tone was particularly rich, lending songs such as “One Song Glory” an aching sense of longing.
As Mimi, Luna Di Landro was equally impressive. “Light My Candle” emerged as an early highlight, showcasing both her vocal prowess and commanding stage presence. Yet it was the breadth of her dramatic performance that proved most affecting, charting Mimi’s journey with sensitivity and emotional honesty.
A similarly touching portrayal came from James Flemming as Angel. Standing out immediately in the opening ensemble number and leading Powers’ choreography with infectious energy (and astonishing kicks), his performance captured both Angel’s effervescent joy and profound humanity. It was a beautifully nuanced turn, rendered all the more affecting by the character’s eventual fate. Opposite him, Matthew Lo’s Tom Collins proved consistently compelling, grounding many of the production’s most emotionally resonant moments.
However, the evening’s strongest performances came in the form of Joanne and Maureen. Maiwa Banda’s Joanne was commanding, composed and wonderfully austere, delivering powerhouse vocals with apparent ease. Yet it was Rishika Snevirathne’s Maureen who utterly stole the show. “Over the Moon” is an inherently eccentric piece of writing, but in her hands it became utterly magnetic. The audience remained enthralled throughout, hanging on every bizarre and brilliant moment. This was only enhanced by the inspired directorial decision to encourage the audience to ‘moo’ alongside Maureen, implicating every audience member directly in her delightful absurdity.
Indeed, every performance across the company was commendable, with the ensemble throwing themselves wholeheartedly into the material despite the punishing conditions. There were moments where greater precision in choreographic unison would have further enhanced the production, but the commitment and energy on display never once wavered.
All of this sat beneath the watchful eye of co-directors Maisie Donohue and Toby McTurk, assisted by River Blatch, whose vision came to life beautifully. Particularly poignant were the quieter ensemble moments, where simple staging choices carried tremendous emotional weight. Most effective of all was the decision to keep the ensemble visible for much of the performance, creating the sense that this community was always present: witnessing, supporting and grieving together. It is a directorial choice that has become synonymous with some of the strongest productions of RENT, and it proved equally effective here.
The use of projections, designed by Sarah Johnston and operated seamlessly by Simone Leahy, was equally judicious
George Murray’s lighting design (assisted by Bee Wilkes) similarly enhanced the storytelling, bathing the stage in warm golden hues and directing focus with precision, under the operation of Katie Madsen. The use of projections, designed by Sarah Johnston and operated seamlessly by Simone Leahy, was equally judicious, from Mark’s opening filmic contextualisation – edited marvellously by Jed Godfrey – to the quotations framing the stage before the performance and the final cinematic montage that brought the evening to its close.
Costuming, designed by Harriet Miller, felt entirely authentic to Larson’s world. Yet it was the makeup design that particularly elevated the visual storytelling. The sensitive depiction of illness through sores and discolouration, combined with the heavy eyeliner and grunge-inspired aesthetic, captured both the period and the community at the heart of the piece with remarkable specificity.
At its core, RENT is a musical concerned with endurance: enduring grief, enduring illness, enduring uncertainty and, ultimately, finding reasons to celebrate life in spite of it all. It therefore felt strangely fitting that this production demanded a degree of endurance from its company, too. In conditions that are currently challenging even seasoned professionals in fully equipped, air-conditioned venues, this cast delivered an evening of immense generosity, sincerity and heart. If Larson urged us to measure our lives in love, then this company measured theirs in resilience, energy and an unwavering commitment to storytelling.
By the final strains of No Day But Today, I was left with a profound sense of admiration—not only for the timelessness of Larson’s work, but for the extraordinary company who brought it to life.
Image credit – Bailey Theatre Company via @baileytheatrecompanydurham on Instagram.
