Review of ‘Rent’ (2026, West End): “Revival of Larson’s showpiece doesn’t put viewers over the moon”

No day like yesterday. And it’s not because the show has lost its resonance. It’s just that this production makes it very difficult to find it. Apart from the AIDS crisis, whose horrendous consequences have widely (and fortunately) become a thing of the past, most themes in Jonathan Larson’s posthumous hit are as relevant now as they were three decades ago when it opened: living off your art is mission impossible, level pro; many minorities continue to face the same (if not more) stigma; and the precariousness of the early years of independence seems to have been extended indefinitely.

With all that in mind, you would assume the revival of one of the biggest theatrical phenomena of the late 90s would burst onto the London scene louder than ever. The expectation has been high, and with good reason. Some hardcore fans might hate me for what I’m going to say. Or they might agree after seeing it with their own eyes. In any case, I should tell you (I should tell you) that much of the hype has turned out to be an overpromise.

Even longtime Larson devotees will admit the piece’s cultural impact doesn’t exempt it from criticism of its dramaturgy. Several stories about love, friendship, survival, and political upheaval intertwine with greater or lesser prominence, but hardly any of them are given the space they deserve. Many side plots, some of which carry the heaviest emotional cargo, barely go beyond the rough-sketch phase; many numbers break abruptly without the necessary buildup; and a few songs are thematically repetitive.

Yet, the original production caught lightning in a bottle and preserved it for over ten years. There’s no doubt that its unforgettable score contributed significantly to its success. But a few catchy melodies rarely guarantee a show’s success, let alone its legacy. There was something else to it that’s simply not present in this revival, which comes across as mechanical and artificial. As a result, its true essence has evaporated, and all that’s left is a dull ersatz that, despite its many layers of disguise, is impossible not to see right through and realise how empty it is.

Most of its problems are the immediate consequence of Luke Shepherd’s unresourceful direction. Previous blockbusters such as & Juliet, Starlight Express, or his most recent people-pleaser, Paddington, have consolidated his reputation as a man of spectacle: thin narratives and big, bombastic numbers filled up with as many effects as the eye can process. Inevitably, some of that has been brought into his adaptation: a few pyrotechnics, big projections, and a revolving stage, all of which are nice additions that feel in tune with the work. However, they can’t make up for Shepherd’s inability to let the story speak for itself.

The evidence lies in the cast’s total lack of rapport and generally one-note performances. It becomes too obvious how little guidance the actors have been given to explore their characters and, most importantly, their relationships. Every portrayal comes off detached: no chemistry, no subtext, no sense of evolution. Roger and Mimi’s turbulent romance (admittedly, the heart of the show) is ironically heartless. Her tragic fate triggers little to no reaction from the viewer, and their meet-cute moment during Will You Light My Candle has completely lost its flame.

The soulfulness and depth that should define the material are nowhere to be found. Instead, they’ve been replaced with visual tricks that may look pretty and somewhat enhancing. But eventually, they don’t make up a tenth of what the piece needs to function properly.

Performing the show in the round is a valid idea — as long as it’s done in the right venue. A conventional proscenium theatre embellished with Victorian ornamentation isn’t a strong option: it doesn’t integrate with the set’s gritty appearance (reasonably similar to its first incarnation), and it creates too much distance to build the desired intimate atmosphere. And in the end, if you’re not sitting onstage, it feels like looking into a reality you’re not part of.

At the same time, the company struggles to convey authenticity in their renditions. Some vocals are praiseworthy: Billy Nevers (Collins) and Danielle Fiamanya (Joanne) demonstrate impeccable technique combined with a passionate approach, which Travis Ross supplements with his grungy (and highly appropriate) take on Roger, admittedly the best of the troupe. Other performances look slightly amateurish, with some suffering from pitch and vocal support issues, and many unable to capture the characters’ viscerality, resulting in a delivery that comes across as closer to playing make-believe rather than professional acting.

There’s more than one glorious song. And its topics are still compelling. But its poor execution makes this revival of Rent a weak tenant in the West End neighbourhood. Although some sections shine, the overall impression is an uninspired, clueless interpretation that can’t reproduce the same sparkle as the original. Take it or leave it for what it is, but it’s not something to love this season.

All pictures credit to Danny Kaan.

Rent plays at London’s Tom Stoppard Theatre until 29 May. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara