Alas, how much happier we all would have been had Rent's bookwriter-composer-lyricist, Jonathan Larson, been on hand to participate. But, of course, he died more than six years ago, on the eve of the first preview of the show Off-Broadway at New York Theatre Workshop. Rubin-Vega recalled that he used to hold a wonderful, annual "peasant feast" for his friends but that, for the final one, only the Rent cast was invited--"because we were now his new family."

I mentioned to the panel that many cynics have alleged that the show garnered its smash-hit status partly because of Larson's unexpected death and the media circus that ensued. "That's why they call them cynics," snapped Weil. Added Rapp, who had done the workshops dating back to 1994: "I can tell you that many times, when there was an audience for any Rent performance, people came up afterwards and swarmed all around Jonathan. That doesn't often happen with authors but it sure did in his case. And nobody knew then he was going to die. So that's what would have happened if he had lived: Great success, and people all around him." (Rapp did the show in London, too, and was still smarting from the critic who said that Larson's dying was "a good career move." The audience winced and hissed when they heard what the boor had said.)

Now that we're living in America at the start of the millennium--and now that three million, two hundred thousand, four hundred minutes have passed since Rent has opened on Broadway--is the show dated? Greif was frank in admitting that such references as AZT to AIDS may make it so--"not that we still don't have a crisis on our hands," he cautioned--but he said that he had never ever considered updating the material in any way. If Rent is now suddenly a period piece, so be it. He also said that he has to go back occasionally and admonish certain cast members who tend to incorporate dance moves that hadn't yet been invented in the long-ago '90s.

I also asked whether the powers-that-be felt that, in going to Broadway, they were essentially selling out--much as Mark wonders about selling his videotapes to Alexi Darling. Greif said that Larson was clearly "a Broadway baby" and would have welcomed the chance. Rapp mentioned that, before Rent, he was toiling in a Starbucks and was therefore very grateful to return to Broadway.

I noted that, for all the talk about Rent's revolutionizing the musical theater, that didn't seem to have happened. After all, Thoroughly Modern Millie had just won the Drama Desk Award as Best Musical, The Producers won everything last year, and such recent Tony-winners as The Lion King, Fosse, and Contact, as well as such hits as Ragtime and The Full Monty, were in no way related to Rent's rock score. Greif and Weil urged me to be patient, pointing out that it takes a long time for musicals to get on and saying that possibly, just possibly, quite a few started being written after kids saw Rent. I thought it was a good rebuttal, as was Rubin-Vega's reminding me of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. When I asked about songs cut from Rent, Weil mentioned one about a door and a wall that he and Rubin-Vega much admired, though Rapp seemed astonished to hear that they liked it. Rapp also recalled a lyric that went something like: "Mr. Negative, you're HIV-positive."

I asked if it was tough to play the show with those first two rows of $20 ticket-holders who attended time and time again. Both Rapp and Rubin-Vega rued the incessant attendance of someone they came to call "Lippy"--because "he was lip-synching and contorting himself through each and every lyric," said Rapp. I also asked Rapp if the character of Mark helped him to become more interested in videocam work, and he replied that he had directed three silent short movies and plans to make some feature-length sound films.

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[To contact Peter Filichia directly, e-mail him at pfilichia@aol.com]