to people living with…shoddy direction

RENT. It became a cultural phenomenon not only because of how it redefined Broadway, but also due to its commentary on coming out of the 1980’s “Me” generation, and the AIDS epidemic. I know. You are flabbergasted. The material is so current, so topical, and so prophetic. All of the latter is true provided the current year is 1994, and you are sitting by a fire in a trash can in your Doc Martens and flannel, listening to the news of Kurt Kobain’s suicide. You are murmuring to yourself phrases of self-importance about how illuminating you are for thinking so profoundly that the universe does not deserve you. That is to whom the show speaks, and whom the show is about.

Sadly, as the show catapulted into the cult classic it has become today, and the AIDS epidemic slipped further into the background, newer generations lost sight of the visionary, self-important messages in exchange for the glory (no pun intended) of doing “art”. This is the sole problem with community theatres producing RENT. It is unproductive to proscribe the abilities of the cast in-depth. This is mostly because of the inherent tribulations with the score (read: being virtually un-singable without shredding the vocal cords of even the most accomplished). No, the issue this author has is with the direction.

Runaway Stage Producer and Director Bob Baxter appears to have even less understanding of the material than his ever-so-earnest cast of teenyboppers. As the show comes to a close, it occurs to Morley: these kids are just fine and moreover they are having the time of their lives…they haven’t the slightest notion of what this show is, and NOBODY INFORMED THEM. Quite possibly it is my misunderstanding, but this critic was under the impression that the director is responsible for the entire look, sound, feel, and artistic vision of a production.

Why then did this production look and feel like a carbon copy of the Broadway show sans the comprehension? The only guess Morley can venture is that, like all theatres in Sacramento, the director refused to perform his duties and relied on bootlegged copies of professional productions to enlighten him on how it is done. This is a new trend: for directors to utilize these resources without the slightest understanding of the “why” in order to generate the original intention which happened to work for that particular production. For example, all of Roger’s blocking was tailored to Adam Pascal finding lyric sheets all over the set as he had difficulty with memorization.  Therefore, Roger’s stage movements were born out of necessity rather than out of, shall we say, an “organic artistic expression”.

As a director of a community theatre production, it is not important to interpret the original creation; only those involved could possibly understand the “why’s” involved. Rather, it is the director’s duty to bring the words on the page to life using their knowledge of what the show reflects as their foundation.

RENT also reflects nuances of performance art throughout the piece and should be approached as such. “Santa Fe” is a marvelous example of this style. Rudy “Roods” Brown’s serviceable performance could have hit the right mark, had the director and choreographer parlayed their vision of the beatnik, spoken-word poetry lyric into the number. Alas, that was not the case and Mr. Brown was left to his own devices.

With that said, I shall list a few other particular highlights for the reader’s enjoyment:

Yes, it is true that Shanta Robinson’s Mimi, while vocally sufferable, had perhaps as much grasp on her character as Tori Spelling might on Hedda Gabbler.

Yes, it is true that as remarkable as it is for Scott Woodard to sustain that F# in “Will I?” it does not excuse its inappropriateness for the scene’s tone and the author’s intent. More importantly: the individual at the helm should not have allowed such an egregious act to take place. However that may be asking too much.

Yes, it is true that the followers of such a cult classic will not accept a production lacking in some trademark stage pictures and movements; however, it is ill advised to utilize any available recordings from the Broadway production as the foundation for blocking and choreography. It is hardly the first time on Pan A Play that Runaway has been accused of such an act, nor will it be the last. The highly educated and esteemed audiences of Sacramento should be hitting the pavement in anticipation of rectification. Morley urges the readership to rush down to a Walgreens, purchase supplies, and picket away to your hearts content. Preferably, you will all join hands and sing rousing choruses of “525,473,678,307,390 minutes” until your hearts explode with genial and maudlin self-involvement.

It is evident that this cast was born either in the midst of, or far after the generation to which RENT speaks. With that in mind, it is permissible for the aforementioned generations to merely perform these arguably dreadful numbers in complete earnestness. This is where the heroic leader steps in and saves the day; the proverbial Moses comes to part the waters of the injustice, and lead every bohemian artist to their true calling. But that could not possibly be Mr. Baxter, as he clearly has less of an understanding of many things–not least of which is how to direct without that copy of Stealing from Broadway Shows: For Dummies in hand.