Leah Simpson
posted 3 December 2007

Inspired by Puccini's La bohème, Jonathan Larson's 1996 Pulitzer Prize-winning musical moved the plot to early 1990s New York, with a backdrop of unremitting rent demands, drug use and AIDS. Now reworked by William Baker and Steve Anderson - the creative team behind Kylie – the show’s once-vibrant group of multicultural East Village squatters appears to have been merged with the cast of EastEnders.

Darling drag queen Angel occasionally sounds like a cockney Queen Vic regular, and seems more likely mug you than fall in love with mugging victim Collins. The decision to have half the cast speaking in a British accent with the other half American just adds to the confusion. With a minimal yet high-tech set in addition to the weirdly smart-for-a-tramp dress code, it looks more like the homeless bunch has been kicked off a Chanel catwalk rather than out of a shabby apartment. It bears no relation to the poverty the characters refer to.

Act one left me appropriately humming the D:ream classic ‘Things Can Only Get Better’. No one should have to deal with tedious acting from an ex-Sugababe. Siobhan Donaghy is supposedly playing the curvaceous character of Mimi (and would almost be there if she indulged in a square meal) but ends up resembling Nicole Kidman circa Moulin Rouge, oozing nothing but evidence she has come fresh out of the ‘Jazz Hands’ School of Performing Arts. She totters around the stage attempting to win the audience over with excessive ad-libbing (accompanied by the strangest of facial expressions), unfortunately none of us believe she can act. Instead the audience is left pleading for the first curtain to fall in hope of being relieved from Donaghy’s shrill voice, and more importantly for a much needed bar beverage.

With the drawn out build up to the second half she undoubtedly owns, it was apparent that producers relied on Denise Van Outen to save this monstrosity of a musical. But what we would really appreciate is a quality performance throughout. Although it appeared Van Outen had saved the show with her audience interaction, in fact the breaking of the fourth wall somewhat invaded the audiences’ space, as was evidenced by the forced (and rather nervous) laughter from the audience in response to the bold comments she made in attempts to get response. Even showing her bare behind to the audience during 'La Vie boheme 'couldn’t save her now.

The audience is made to feel unintelligent, with Angel’s death scene lasting for what felt like a lifetime thanks to an excess of symbolism: Angel ascends a set of white stairs (adorned with a set of angel wings) until he disappears into the ceiling to be attacked by a posse dressed in black. The hospital scene in itself would have made the point.

While it’s true that medicine for HIV is more accessible, and homosexuality less contentious now than in the original setting for Rent, Baker’s and Anderson’s ‘remixing’ isn’t necessarily what takes the spirit out of the play. It’s mainly down to casting gone wrong. The chorus delivers a better performance than most of the lead actors, leading me to believe the casting of a few popular names is nothing more than a ploy to draw in an impressionable young crowd to this a show that has already failed twice in the West End. It is a passion-lacking, sexless and joyless experience. Rent? I wouldn’t even rent it.

Till 5 April 2008.