Overshare? Why, yes I will, thank you. For a condensed review: This is a great memoir, not just about Rent, but about grief and love and honesty. For way more information about most-likely-irrelevant-to-you connections I made to my own experience, read here...(view spoiler)[I was raised on a steady diet of musical theatre. My dad spent most of his career behind the stages of Broadway and off-Broadway productions, and he met my mother in the touring company of Cabaret -- he the stage manager, she a failed actress doomed with a committed heart to the stage, playing a walk-on trombone player in a sexy beaded leotard. By the time I came around Dad had settled in to a stable position with 20th Century Fox, and Mom found her niche in writing and raising me. But most evenings found me and Dad curled up on the chocolate-brown shag carpeting of the den, surrounded by the highest tech audio equipment available in the 1970's, blasting the torch songs of Judy Garland, Barbra Streisand, and Carol Channing at their highest volume. Maybe it goes without saying that Dad was a little eccentric. Always his daughter and eager to please him, I was also a bit of a set-piece for him, dressing me in vintage gowns with ostrich plumes, choreographing sets to "Sam, You Made the Pants to Long" for my gymnastics class, and parading me at cocktail parties filled with theatre/film people I didn't realize were famous at the time. I sometimes think that if the biology had been right, I'd have been a knockout gay boy. It's possible he thought that, too. I did a lot of theatre in high school and college, even pursued a theatre degree for a few years, and nearly died from anxiety every time Dad showed up for a performance. He was extremely critical with every show he saw, and always blatantly straightforward with his opinions of my performance. I think he was proud of me but also very scared that a life in theatre, a life I told him I wanted, was too fraught with rejection for my sensitive soul to survive. But I knew that when he said I did well, I probably did. Theatre was our connection, and as I continued through school and found other fields to pursue, I always felt closest to him in a theatre, or any room with a musical soundtrack playing through the speakers.In 1991 he moved to Eastern Europe. A new stage of his life had begun, bringing his eccentric weirdness to the hapless villagers of Transylvania. I missed him terribly. His connection to the theatre world was pretty much severed, and I tried to keep him up to speed with my new favorites. He gave his seal of approval on a few, which made me enjoy them even more -- especially Wicked, the kind-of forgotten now Freudiana, and, of course, Rent. I like to pepper my netflix queue with a good dose of musical theatre, mostly to relive that connection I had with my father. Rent came in my mailbox last week. I waited for an afternoon when I was alone, afraid that my vulnerability to my dad's memory and the overwhelming heart of the story and music might embarrass me in front of friends and family. True to expectations, I cried as I watched it, then watched the dvd documentary special feature and cried some more. My boyfriend came home and caught me drying my tears. Sweetly, he asked to watch it, too, so I saw it a second time and cried some more, just to be sharing it with someone I love. I knew I had an old used copy of Rapp's memoir on my shelves somewhere, and I dove into it as soon as the credits rolled. No, that's not true. First I had a smoke to compose myself, and my boyfriend did something incredible. He's a really smart and sensitive, thoughful guy, but he almost never talks about movies he's seen or fiction he's read. I think he was raised to feel defensive about his personal feelings and emotional responses, coming from a household with such huge differences of worldview and philosophies. He hates confrontation and the vulnerability of verbalizing emotion, a theme I saw a lot, by the way, in this memoir. Anyway, Aaron came outside and said, "That was beautiful." Of his own free will. He said that, even though his life was nothing like the lives of the characters, he could identify with each one of them. It moved him. His comment moved me. So the memoir starts with some great behind-the-scenes action of the studio production of Rent and the life of a NY actor. Fun stuff. Then we're introduced to Rapp's family, and his mother's illness takes center stage. As we understand their relationship we also learn about Rapp's attempts to come out to his mother and his early experiences with homosexuality. We frequently return to renthead-mania, as he continues with the off- and on-Broadway run, but it really just syncopates to the story of his mother's long and painful demise and Rapp's struggle with his own grief. I didn't know that's what I was getting in to, and, on this most emotional evening, I began to feel the sorrow of my own father's death. And, because I love to overshare, I'm going to tell you about it:Dad died in 2006, when I was 33 years old. I lived in Iowa, he lived in Romania. He died of heart failure due to HIV-related complications. I was told he'd died over the phone. He was such a long, long way away, and the news split me in half. I'd been preparing for his death since I was 13, but it didn't make it any easier. Dad contracted HIV sometime in the late '70's. He told me about it in the mid '80's. And, the anomaly that he always is, he miraculously survived for 20 more years, without ever developing AIDS. Who knows what made his chemistry resistant, though he took the drug cocktails available, and allowed doctors to prod and experiment with new drugs and regimens, but his auto-immune system eventually gave up, attacked by circulation problems, heart conditions, severe arthritis, and just a general, undefinable, manic-depressive craziness that conquered his brain. But those were 20 long years of bracing ourselves through every illness, every depression, every doctor's visit with -- this could be it; this could be the end. It took Rapp's mother a long time to find her peace, and it took Rapp a lifetime, as well. Rapp writes so honestly and nakedly about his love, his fears, his faults, that I felt right there with him. His writing gets a bit flowery, with all kinds of energy and electricity flowing and jolting and careening through his body at every opportunity, but I didn't mind so much. As an actor, he's very plugged in to emotional response, and I enjoyed his visceral descriptions. And I loved, loved his honesty. When he performed well, he told you; when he was a fool, he admitted it. When he kissed a boy, he admitted that, too, and his example of living honestly and bravely will be just the right medicine for a generation of readers, once they realize that this is not just a book about a musical. (hide spoiler)]
I’ve wanted to read this for a while, but not before seeing at least the movie version of Rent. Off to the library I went and borrowed a copy of both film and book. I’m certain I would have appreciated this story, loosely based on Puccini's La Bohème, a lot more in its original version as a play, and had I been about 30 years younger. Back then I probably would have been able to empathize with a cast of talentless characters who wanted to succeed as artists, but who could barely keep a roof over their heads. Now, I just look at them with disdain and wish they would find a job.If the characters were likable, I may have been able to forgive their flaws. They were miserable, whiny, self-indulgent, irresponsible and lazy. The story took place in New York, but nothing in the film reminded me of the city. The songs, while sung with passion, were loud and repetitive, and by the film’s conclusion, I could barely remember a single song or any of the lyrics. There are other films that deal with drug addiction, homosexuality, poverty and AIDS much more sensitively. Sadly, this was not one of them.Even though I didn’t care for Rent, I enjoyed reading of the hard work, love, passion and joy that went into making the play. “Chills shot up my arms and spine and the back of my head. I had never heard a song like it, especially in a musical; there was a directness and a simplicity and a groove to it that were thrillingly new to my ears. I felt everyone in the room lean forward into the music.”Anthony Rapp, who played Mark Cohen in the play and film, wrote a very powerful, touching and honest memoir detailing his theater experiences, his relationships with cast members, family and friends, his sexuality, and his mother’s battle with cancer. Even if you haven’t seen, or are not a fan of Rent, this engrossing memoir is well worth reading. Anthony writes so candidly, openly and personally about his life and work, that I often felt I was sitting across a table from him rather than reading his book. Very well done.Cross-posted at Shelf Inflicted and at Outlaw Reviews
Do You like book Without You (2006)?
Wow. That was a powerhouse of emotions.Rapp is a wonderful writer. I could imagine his mother's house, Rachel, Anne, Adam, the workshop of Rent, literally everything. His imagery was precise. I loved glimpsing into his life. Anthony Rapp is so interesting but so, so sad! As a fan of Rent, it was interesting seeing first the workshop cast to finally the Broadway cast. Seeing Anthony's first reactions to Anthony Pascal, Idina Menzel, etc. I feel the show will mean so much more to me now because of all of the things Rapp put into his performance and characterization of Mark. I must warn you, if you are a crier, you will be a human hose during/after reading this book. I especially felt the waterworks when talking about Johnathan Larson's death and the performance that followed the announcement and of course Rapp's final days with his mother. I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning to complete this book and I'm sure my parents could hear me sniffling in the next room.My biggest problem however concerned the last boyfriend Rapp talks about, Todd. I hated him! Why did Anthony stay with him so long? He learned he was unfaithful after Todd frequently accused him of doing the same, he was rude, way too outspoken, and very verbally abusive! But Anthony always went back to him. Ugh.Anyway, if you are a fan of Rent (or musical theatre for that matter) or the life of an actor, pick this up. You probably wont be able to put it down.
—Marianna
Once in a while, there's a book that unlocks your heart and is filled with charisma, sensitivity and depth. Without You is Rapp's autobiography about Rent as well as his relationship with his mother who is fighting cancer. The beautifully written book is a testament about family relationships and the importance to being yourself. To quote a line from the show, 'how do you measure a year in a life' and throughout Without You, he made each of his mother's years, count. The Rent soundtrack played as a backdrop to the novel and as I paged through his thought-provoking story, the lyrics brought out the raw emotion he captured on stage. As Rapp learns how to be without his mother, he realizes she left behind 'Seasons of Love.'
—Amy
Well, really this is a 3.5 for me. I found it compelling and quick to read, and yet was bugged both by some of the writing and by Rapp himself.I guess I picked up this book expecting it to be more about his life as a Rent cast member, and there is certainly some of that. I was gripped mainly by the story of his mother - and was really moved to tears many times. I was quite annoyed by the endless stories of his relationships, because somehow it seemed to me that each one was of the greatest impor
—Stacy
