« Random Photos Galore | Main | Baton Accepted »

June 13, 2005

I Don't Own Emotion, I Rent

The trailer for the Rent movie came out last week.

I saw Rent on Broadway for the first time the Spring before I graduated - very soon after it opened in April of 1996. I remember thinking that the show was OK, I couldn't understand all of the lyrics, it was loud as all hell, but I definitely left the theatre crying. I was definitely inspired by the insane amount of energy that came flying off of the stage. And having just had my job offer at Disney fall through and deciding to move to NYC anyway, the message of "No Day But Today" definitely resonated with me.

During the first couple years of the show they would sell 20 seats in the first two rows of the center section for $20 to the first 20 people in line (10 usually, because each person could buy two) at 6pm the night of the performance. Before too many people heard about it, you could get in line around noon and get a ticket. Once school let out and word got around, it was more like 5 or 6am on weekdays and a campout on the weekends. People would travel from far and wide to spend the night in this line. And this was back before Times Square had undergone it's transformation. The New Amsterdam wasn't open, there was no Sanrio store or Ford Theatre - and the Nederlander (where Rent still plays to this day) is on 41st street - still kinda sketch at the right time of night.

The internet was a central meeting line for the folks who later became know as Rentheads. I'd like to say that I was never a complete Renthead, b/c I never spent the night in line, but "The Rent Line" was a big part of my first year in NYC. Randy and I stood in it or in it for each other numerous times. Anytime a new person would come to town, we'd send enough people to the line to make sure we all got into the show that night. Susan and I, who'd met in rec.arts.theatre.musicals in the early 90's when it was still only accessible through usnet, became close over hours in the Rent line (not even going into how many of the cast members became intertwined in her life through various chains of events). For those who know Dwayne and how close he and I are (he walked my mom down the isle at my wedding) - he and I met in the Rent line.

You simply did not go within 5 blocks of the theatre before noon without checking The Line. You would take an inventory to see how many people were in line and how many tickets they were planning to buy, do the math, and if there were still tickets to be had and whatever else you had planned that day was flexible, you parked it. If there was only one ticket left, you'd park it for yourself or someone you knew who was dying to see it. If there were a few more spaces in line you got on the phone and quick.

When it was all said and done, between The Line and purchased tickets I think that I saw the original cast perform the show at least 16 times over the course of a year or so. I went back a few other times to check out other versions of the cast. Slowly building a life, getting a more demanding job and the original cast leaving all contributed to my gradual disinterest in the show. It was soon "so 1996." The Line became a lottery system where you could walk up at 5:50pm and have a chance at getting a $20 seat at 6pm. Later casts were just unable to capture the raw energy that came from that original group of people who'd been with the show since the early readings and who lived through Jonathan's (the author) death. New experiences with the show just got further and further away from the times in 1996.

The non-equity tour of Rent came to St. Louis in January this year. Since moving in November, I had yet to really feel nostalgia for NYC. But seeing that show live again stirred it up for the first time. I think the messages in the show are universal, but there is something about New York City that makes them harder to hold on to. Being there is "about" so many things, it easy to take for granted your friends, opportunities, significant moments. Part of it seems very self indulgent, immature and disgusting to me - it's definitely part of why I enjoy living elsewhere. But the same energy that makes it so is intoxicating and at its best incredibly inspiring. It's easy to feel invisible there, but the level of "alive" that you can feel at any random moment is as hard to hold onto elsewhere as it is easy to keep an eye on the other stuff.

If any of that makes any sense.

All that to say that every time I see the new trailer, I get a little choked up. It's not so much NYC that I miss I suppose, but that time of my life. And I don't miss it, per say, as much as remember just how much lay ahead. I think seeing those characters come alive on the screen, captured on film, expanded beyond the stage that I saw them on so many times will be an incredible experience. Even if I decide that I don't like the filmmaking, more time with those characters will bring so much to the surface beyond just the story in the show - 42nd Street pre-Disney, my time with Disney, the summer I lived w/ Randy and John, Curt Malloy, 103rd and Riverside, belting Ragtime in La Chanze's key in Garth's penthouse office, the list goes on.

Maybe in 10 years I'll be waxing poetic on the movie opening and all the memories that tie in with the Fall of 2005 and just how much was ahead.

Posted by nikl at June 13, 2005 10:40 AM

Trackback Pings

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.n-spiration.com/cgi-bin/mt-tb.cgi/28

Comments

Very nicely written. And yes, I think your feelings of longing or sort of reflections on one's youth, because I have pangs of that frequently. Not WANTING to be 23 again, but remembering that naive time so fondly nonetheless.

And props to the filmmakers for casting the original players and not Zellwegering/Zeta-Jonesing it up. Still feel badly for Bebe Newirth. And it's not like she was a "no-name," by any means.

Posted by: Beth at June 14, 2005 08:32 AM

Post a comment