I also know that that much of the original cast reprise their roles in the film, and although the acting itself is alright, I have to question the casting in the first place based on what I saw on screen. Yes, there have been complaints that these people are now too old for these parts. I don’t really know about that (although it’s probably true), but I do know that they sure seem awfully clean cut and tidy for the supposedly hard-living down-and-out bohemian artist-types that they are supposed to playing. These people look like the aging cast of a WB teen drama dropped into a big-time Hollywood director’s romanticized idea of urban artist poverty. These people obviously haven’t missed many meals, or even hair salon appointments. Remember that hilariously insensitive (but mostly hilarious) musical number from “Team America”, “Everyone had AIDS!” with all the clean-cut preppy marionettes pretending to be socially conscious slum-dwellers? Well now I know that that parody of “Rent” was far more accurate than I knew at the time. This cast singing and dancing about their difficulties was about as convincing as the “gang violence” of the Jets versus the Sharks of “West Side Story”. Whatever valuable message “Rent” may be trying to feed us about its characters lifestyles and their troubles is lost in the apparent hypocrisy of the casting and choice of homogenized Hollywood hit manufacturer Chris Columbus as director.

As strange as it sounds, Columbus claims to be a Renthead himself, something evident in the use of not just the original cast, but apparently also their theatrical actual wardrobe. Much like his slavishly adapted “Harry Potter” films, “Rent” also has that feeling of being a little too married to the source material for its own cinematic good. That the director of such big screen drivel as “Stepmom” and “Mrs. Doubtfire”, whose most notable previous display of career edginess was writing 1984’s “Gremlins”, would be a fan of a show notorious for its boundaries-breaking frank depictions of alternative lifestyles and the troubles that come with them is, admittedly, a bit of a surprise for me. Not such a surprise is the fact that even as a fan, he can’t get “Rent” up and dancing.

The story begins with two of the ensemble (the Filmmaker and the Rock Musician) being threatened with eviction from the loft they’ve been living in rent-free unless they compromise their principles and stop an upcoming protest rally. There never is any real conflict portrayed regarding this story point – of course these guys aren’t going to sell out their protest-leading acquaintance, who just happens to be the Filmmaker’s ex-girlfriend, now a lesbian. In a show of bohemian unity, as well as puppy dog codependence, the Filmmaker ends up assisting and hanging out with the Trouble-Making Protestor and her lover, the TV Producer. Their friends the AIDS victims (the Drug Abusing Pole Dancer, the Flaming Cross Dresser, and the Butch Black Man) join the group, culminating in a big, overly long in-your-face musical number (“La Vie Boheme”) intended, on its surface, to proclaim the joys of bohemian lifestyles but actually meant to shove their oh-so-wonderful hedonism and flamboyance in the faces of any prudes who might happen to watching. Maybe this re-action makes me just such a prude, but as a fellow artist (another Filmmaker, to be precise,) struggling to pay the bills, it was easy to not sympathize with these peoples’ problem of suddenly having to pay to live where they’ve been living.

It doesn’t help that the Filmmaker is constantly shooting color 16mm film, which gets quite pricey in a hurry, in terms of filmstock and lab processing. That he’s using an old, worn, hand-cranked camera must be the director’s idea of showing conceit to his poverty (I can just imagine: “Yes, this filmmaker is so poor that he can’t afford a film crew or even Panavision rental fees! My gosh, how does he do it? What a hero!”) In the end, this guy is so unable to come to terms with the notion of doing purely profit-driven work in his chosen field that he quits his high-paying but short-lived tabloid-TV job and makes a crappy experimental film – a montage of footage of his friends that one would expect from a junior high girl with a camcorder. (Which is, incidentally, the equipment that such a character as this guy SHOULD be portrayed as using, even in 1990, when this story takes place.) This Filmmaker business is but one example of the kind of inconsistencies that plague this supposed look into beauty and truth. In my opinion, this slickly realized vision of life on the Other Side would be considerably more convincing if Columbus would’ve shot the movie itself handheld with 16mm film on the fly.

I may’ve been more likely to forgive some of “Rent’s” above-mentioned sins if the songs would’ve been good, or even memorable. With the exception of the famous “Seasons of Love” (a.k.a. “525,600 Minutes”, a.k.a. “That Song From ‘Rent’”), not one other tune is of any take-away value. You’d think a show this famous would have another hit or two, but apparently not. The characters simply spend a lot of time singing their dialogue about losing their dime bags and appreciating one another. At one moment, listening to one of these dull blantastic numbers, 525,600 minutes was my perceived notion of the running time of the movie. I thought, why are they singing this? Why don’t they just sing their only good song “Seasons of Love” again?” And then lo and behold, they do! Four or five times. Like the cast themselves, these tunes come off musically as too middle-of-the-road showtuney (despite their risqué lyrical content). Maybe if someone like Tom Waits or Leonard Cohen were pounding out these songs in their particular gravelly style, we’d have something.

The one redeeming moment in the film is Rosario Dawson’s smoking hot pole dancing number as the Non-Stripping Stripper Drug Abuser. Proving that nudity isn’t everything, this scene is ten times hotter than her sex scene in “Alexander” where she actually did get naked. But don’t get too excited – the whole thing lasts less than a minute, then it’s on to more drag queens, lesbian angst, and eviction notices. It’s a shame that “Rent” lacks the authenticity of its convictions, considering its topic of AIDS hasn’t exactly become less of a problem since the show’s inception. It’s not that musicals are too light of a vehicle for socially relevant topics - just a few years ago, the film version of “Chicago” was able to greatly entertain AND say a great deal about media in our culture. Perhaps one shouldn’t be shocked that Columbus dropped the ball with this, his first musical, but it doesn’t help him that Trey Parker and Matt Stone managed to effectively spoof his adaptation a full year before it even came out. Despite “Rent’s” fame and notoriety, I doubt this will catch on once people actually begin to see it. After all, alternative lifestyles and bohemian loft life are things that very few can readily identify with. The already vocally supportive Rentheads will no doubt proclaim this film a sensation, but if the “Firefly” fan legion of Browncoats couldn’t save the exceptional “Serenity” from box office doom, then neither can these people save this. Honestly, I liked it better when Columbus was working on “Harry Potter” movies. Or better yet, “Gremlins”.

Jim Tudor