Rent – Tom Stoppard Theatre, London
3.5/5 stars
Celebrating its 30th anniversary Rent finally gets a West End revival and for me Rent is one of the most important musicals of the last 30 years. That’s quite a statement, I know, but it’s one I’m absolutely prepared to stand by.
It’s also, rather embarrassingly for someone who spends as much time in theatres as I do, my favourite musical that I’d never actually seen live.
I’ve been obsessed with the 2005 film adaptation for most of my adult life. I know the characters, the story and practically every word of every song. If you were unfortunate enough to be trapped in a car with me on a long journey, I could probably perform the entire thing for you. Whether you’d appreciate the experience or not is another matter!
When this West End production was announced, I was ridiculously excited. I’ve actually booked tickets for several performances before I’d even seen it once which illustrates how excited I was.
I took Diarmuid with me, who knew absolutely nothing about Rent beyond a few songs he’d endured me singing over the years. I couldn’t wait for him to experience something that has meant so much to me. Unfortunately, we both came away slightly underwhelmed, although for very different reasons.
For anyone unfamiliar with Rent, Jonathan Larson’s musical, inspired by Puccini’s La Bohème, follows a group of young artists living in New York’s East Village at the end of the 1980s.
At its centre are aspiring filmmaker Mark and musician Roger, whose lives are intertwined with those of their friends and neighbours as they navigate love, friendship, poverty, addiction and the devastating impact of the AIDS epidemic. It’s messy, funny, occasionally infuriating and often heartbreaking, rather like life itself.
This production, directed by Luke Sheppard, whose credits include & Juliet and Paddington The Musical, revisits his 2020 staging at Manchester’s Hope Mill Theatre, bringing it to the newly renamed Tom Stoppard Theatre, formerly the Duke of York’s.
The most noticeable production element is the decision to place audience members on the stage, surrounding the performers.
Now, I have mixed feelings about this.
There seems to be something of a fashion in London theatre for putting audiences on stage. We’ve seen it with Jesus Christ Superstar, among others, and I sometimes wonder whether it’s being done because it genuinely improves the production, because it’s a trendy gimmick or because somebody has discovered another twenty places to sell tickets.
In fairness, for Rent I can see what they’re trying to achieve. During the larger ensemble numbers, the surrounding audience creates a wonderful sense of community, capturing the hustle and bustle of a busy New York neighbourhood. It’s quite literally rent-a-crowd, (sorry, I couldn’t resist.)
The difficulty comes when the story needs a little intimacy.
For example there’s a scene where Mimi climbs through Roger’s window, and the two meet for the first time. It’s supposed to be a slightly awkward, personal encounter between two people beginning to connect. Except here they’re surrounded by what feels like half the population of Manhattan.
I kept thinking how well this concept might work somewhere like the Bridge Theatre, where there’s enough space to create a sense of separation between the performers and audience. Unfortunately, the restricted space of the Tom Stoppard stage doesn’t really allow for that and as a result the quieter more intimate moments suffer.
The stripped-back staging also makes the story surprisingly difficult to follow.
I know Rent inside out, so I had no trouble understanding where we were or what was happening. Diarmuid , however, was completely lost. With very little scenery distinguishing between apartments, the support center, Maureen’s performance space and the streets of New York, the action moves between locations without always making it clear where we’ve ended up. If you know the story, you automatically fill in the gaps. If you don’t, you’re trying to work out who everyone is, how they’re connected and occasionally which people on stage are actually in the cast, it all becomes a confusing muddle.
We’re going back, because obviously one visit was never going to be enough for me, but before we do, I’m making Diarmuid watch the film. I don’t particularly like recommending homework before going to the theatre, but I genuinely think he’ll enjoy it considerably more once he understands the story.
Anyway, let’s talk about the cast, because that is arguably the biggest draw for a lot of people.
Gaten Matarazzo, best known for playing Dustin in Stranger Things, makes his West End debut as Mark Cohen. He’s enormously talented, with a wonderful voice and a natural warmth that makes him very easy to watch but honestly I struggled to believe him as part of this particular friendship group.
Visually, he seems so much younger than everyone else. He reminded me of a younger brother who’s been allowed to hang out with his older brother’s cool friends. A little bit like Sam in The Lost Boys.
It’s not a criticism of his ability. I just didn’t quite believe he’d shared the same experiences as the rest of the group, particularly when it came to his previous relationship with Maureen, played by Lazy Violet. Violet’s Maureen is edgy, confident and effortlessly cool. She’s the sort of person who walks into a room and immediately commands everyone’s attention.
I simply couldn’t imagine her and this version of Mark ever having been a couple. I know opposites attract, but these two felt as though they existed in completely different worlds. Individually, they’re excellent, but their shared history didn’t convince me, which rather undermined Mark’s feelings about Maureen leaving him for Joanne.
Travis Ross takes on Roger, the musician struggling with grief, his HIV diagnosis and his growing feelings for Mimi, played by Alexa Lopez. Both deliver terrific vocal performances. Ross has the power needed for Roger’s demanding numbers, while Lopez brings energy and vulnerability to Mimi. I enjoyed them both, although their relationship suffers from the lack of quieter, more intimate moments.
The real standouts, however, were Jeevan Braich as Angel and Billy Nevers as Tom Collins.
Oh, they were incredible.
Braich brings infectious energy, warmth and humour to Angel, while Nevers gives Collins a lovely sincerity and affection. Together, they’re completely believable. There’s a genuine tenderness between them, and their rendition of I’ll Cover You is particularly poignant. They definitely provided the emotional heart of the production.
There are some clever creative decisions, too. I particularly liked Mark’s camera, with footage recorded live and displayed on old-fashioned television screens around the stage, allowing us to see the world through his eyes.
Across the company, the vocal standard is exceptional. Whatever reservations I have about the production, the singing is absolutely phenomenal. The larger ensemble numbers are fantasticly executed. La Vie Bohème has all the exuberance you’d hope for, while Seasons of Love remains one of those songs that can stop you in your tracks, however many times you’ve heard it.
Which brings me back to why Rent matters so much.
When Larson created this musical, he did something extraordinary. He placed people whose lives were so often ignored, judged or pushed to the margins of society right at the centre of the story.
People living with HIV and AIDS weren’t simply defined by their diagnoses. They had relationships, ambitions, humour, flaws and ordinary everyday problems. He gave prominence to queer relationships, poverty, homelessness, addiction and the struggle to survive in a city that was becoming increasingly unaffordable. These weren’t necessarily the subjects audiences expected from a major musical in 1996, yet Rent went on to become an enormous success.
It challenged whose stories deserved to be told and demonstrated that musical theatre could tackle difficult contemporary issues without losing its ability to entertain. I think that’s incredibly important.
What I find particularly upsetting is how relevant so much of it remains thirty years later.
Thankfully medical advances have transformed the outcome for those living with HIV but poverty, inequality and discrimination remain enormous problems. Honestly you could take parts of Rent, change a few references and set them in London today without altering very much.
Larson died tragically young, just before Rent began its original Off-Broadway run, never getting to see the enormous impact his work would have on musical theatre. What a remarkable legacy he left behind.
Perhaps that’s why I wanted so desperately to love this production.
I didn’t just want a good night at the theatre. I wanted to experience the musical I’ve adored for years in a way that made me fall in love with it all over again.
Instead, I came away thinking it was good, occasionally brilliant, but nowhere near as emotionally affecting as I’d hoped.
I never thought I’d say this about one of my favourite musicals, but I actually prefer the film. For me, the film gives the characters and their relationships room to breathe, making the emotional moments considerably more affecting. I realise admitting you prefer a film adaptation to a live production might be considered something of a theatrical crime, but I’m prepared to take the consequences.
That doesn’t mean I regret seeing this production, and it certainly doesn’t mean I wouldn’t recommend it. I genuinely believe everyone should experience Rent at least once. It’s funny, moving, infuriating, uplifting and heartbreaking, but more importantly, it asks audiences to consider the lives of people they might otherwise never think about.
Theatre has an enormously important role to play in doing exactly that.
There’s an awful lot to admire here, but I can’t help feeling that the desire to create something immersive has come at the expense of the storytelling.
I wanted to love this production.
Not just enjoy it. Not just think it was good.
I wanted to absolutely adore it and I just didn’t.
Sometimes the most effective thing you can do in theatre is give two performers a little space and let the material speak for itself.
3.5 stars from me.
Seen 09/10/26
Accessibility at the Tom Stoppard Theatre
Unfortunately, accessibility at the Tom Stoppard Theatre isn’t particularly good, and it’s one of those venues where we tend to book tickets only when there’s something we really, really want to see.
I appreciate that it’s a historic building and that there are restrictions on what can be altered, but that doesn’t make some of the practical difficulties any less frustrating.
There is a level entrance into the foyer, with wheelchair spaces and transfer seating located at in the dress circle.
The foyer is relatively small and becomes extremely congested before a performance. On this visit, getting through the crowd in my wheelchair was surprisingly difficult. Normally, people are pretty good about moving out of the way, but on this occasion a couple were remarkably reluctant to move, even when it was obvious I couldn’t get past.
Once inside the auditorium, the wheelchair park spaces are positioned in recessed areas on either side of row C in the dress circle. I’ve included photographs on the website so you can get a better idea of the layout.
The best way I can describe these spaces is that they feel a little like sitting inside a witness box at court! Unfortunately, due to the angles the sightlines are significantly restricted meaning that a lot of the stage you are simply unable to see. The companion seat is also down from your position so if you need assistance during the performance it can be a little problematic alerting your companion.
If you’re able to transfer, I would recommend considering row D rather than row C, as the sightlines are considerably better. Obviously, that isn’t an option for everyone, particularly those of us who need to remain in our wheelchairs, but it’s worth considering if transferring is possible.
There’s another issue worth mentioning if you’re planning to transfer into a theatre seat. On one of our previous visits, I transferred out of my wheelchair, which was then stored near the auditorium entrance. Unfortunately, during the performance and interval, people began treating it as though it were part of the theatre furniture. Some were putting their belongings on it, while others were actually sitting on it. I appreciate that space is limited, but a wheelchair is not an additional seat or somewhere to put your coat. The staff do try their best, but there are only so many of them, and they can’t watch everything all the time.
The access toilet is where things become particularly problematic. There is a level-access, gender-neutral toilet, but describing it as wheelchair accessible is, in my opinion, extremely generous.
The room is incredibly narrow, barely wider than a wheelchair, and there simply isn’t sufficient space to enter, turn around and transfer onto the toilet. Unless you’re able to stand and take a few steps, I cannot see how you could use it.
Even if you can manage that, someone would then need to remove your wheelchair from the room so the door can be closed. Currently, we have to plan our entire evening around the fact that I cannot use the toilet at the theatre.
I understand that creating a properly accessible toilet within the existing building may be difficult, but surely there are alternatives worth exploring. ATG, which operates the theatre, is a major organisation within the entertainment industry, with considerable influence and established relationships across the West End. Could it not investigate an arrangement with a neighbouring theatre, hotel or restaurant that has suitable facilities?
Overall the Tom Stoppard Theatre is a venue where the limitations of the building have a very real impact on wheelchair users. The entrance is level, and the staff are generally helpful, but the restricted sightlines, cramped foyer, unsuitable toilet facilities and difficulties surrounding wheelchair storage make visiting considerably more complicated than it should be.
We still go, but only when there’s something we’re particularly desperate to see, and we know that a visit will involve a fair amount of planning.
I don’t expect every historic theatre to be able to undergo enormous structural alterations. I understand that there are genuine restrictions, but it would be helpful for operators to explore practical alternatives where possible when existing facilities are inadequate.
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