When Mark Cohen himself strolls onto the stage in Old Cabell, the excitement is palpable. The audience whispers, people in the mezzanine rustle merchandise. He's sandy-haired, bespectacled and curiously reserved, yet with charming earnestness behind the words that tumble over each other in rapid-fire speech.
Anthony Rapp, the original Mark of beloved self-termed rock opera Rent as well as the recent Hollywood remake, was in town last week to speak on his experiences and promote his first book, the autobiographical Without You. He read a book excerpt and wound up with a Q&A session.
Rapp offered thoughtful responses to the expected question of his take on the differences between performing Rent as a movie and a stage production. For him, the latter is about "logistics, routine" and "relentless energy" while the former gave room for "softer glimpses into characters' lives" that are "quiet, subtle and intimate." Contributing to the smooth transition was the fact that most of the original musical cast was retained in the movie.
There was a question from the audience about the film's being marketed as a love story rather than one that unabashedly deals with disease and poverty. "Hollywood thinks pocketbook," Rapp shrugged, admitting that Rent the movie got the green light in lieu of musical-themed successes such as Chicago and Moulin Rouge. Such presentation doesn't cloud the musical's inherently controversial issues. He somberly noted that negative online feedback of the film was often guilty of generalizations such as, "I didn't know this was going to about faggots and AIDS."
Clearly, Rapp isn't over-defensive of the project's unavoidable flaws. For him, what's important is educating -- sharing Rent's urgent, encompassing story and his related experiences. He underlined his passion for "sharing material with people outside my brain" and "engaging and exciting young people in art."
"An audition is not about being perfect," he reminded us vehemently, noting that he "totally jumped a verse" when auditioning for Rent. Currently, he has "higher aspirations to have a social impact" in future projects.
Rapp feels a strong connection with the musical's themes of love and loss, having to deal with, among other things, his mother's cancer during the early stages of Rent. Most significantly, his reading excerpt gave touching insight into the life of late Rent creator Jonathan Larson, who tragically passed away days before opening night.
Rapp humorously laced the man's epitomical Bohemian lifestyle -- "his bathtub was in the kitchen and the walls were painted all these colors that didn't match" -- with his dead seriousness about ideas, famously proclaiming himself "the future of musical theater." Rapp relates Larson's inspiration to the musical's enduring style and message, one that's "flawed and messy," but at the same time "an enormous art that is brave and bold."
Glimpses into Rapp's multiple personalities were fun -- one being his description of immersing himself in a character while walking everywhere in heels to play a transvestite in Hedwig and the Angry Inch "because she belongs in them." His teasing rapport with his rapt audience was subtle but constant. He struggled with seating himself onto the high stool he was provided with, joking he "hasn't quite mastered that art yet." He theatrically asked for a tissue to blow his nose; at least seven packets of Kleenex shot up in eager hands. Rapp concluded with a stirring solo of "Seasons of Love," re-infusing the raw energy and timeless urgency that is Rent.