‘Rent’ has lost some of its edge, but remains a remarkable musical

At 20, Jonathan Larson’s “Rent” could be teetering toward museum piece. It’s not just the prominently featured answering machines, pay phones and landlines that date the Tony- and Pulitzer Prize-winning musical. It’s the dire prospects facing the characters who are HIV-positive. During the original Broadway run of “Rent” in the late 1990s, having the virus was all but a death sentence. That harrowing mortality rate helped drive home the central message of “Rent”: Seize today because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. In today’s post-AZT era, that message isn’t quite so urgent. Yet even when Larson’s book gets shallow and melodramatic (which is most certainly does, especially in its final moments), its resonance is undeniable. “Rent” is showing its age, but it’s also irresistible.

Larson’s script (he wrote the book, the music and the lyrics) is a 1990s riff on the opera “La Boheme.” Instead of 19th century Paris, we’re in 20th century New York City, near “the end of the millennium.” Aspiring composer Roger (Joshua Bess) and aspiring filmmaker Mark (Logan Marks) are squatting in a building owned by their former friend/current nemesis Benjamin (Marcus John). Mimi (Deri’ Andra Tucker) is the super-sexy, high-spirited junkie-next-door. Maureen (Lyndie Moe) does protest performance art in the vacant alley nearby, while her lawyer girlfriend Joanne (Lencia Kebede) stage manages. Renegade philosopher Tom Collins (Devinre Adams) finds romance with street musician Angel (Javon King), who teaches everyone about love. Larson follows them all for about a year as they struggle with art, gentrification, love, loss and making the rent.

The glaring thing that no longer works about “Rent” — and perhaps never did — is the idea that Mark and Roger’s chest-thumping refusal to pay rent is some sort of statement of artistic nobility or proletariat rebellion. The two are not impoverished, oppressed revolutionaries or starving artists. These are cis-white-straight boys from places like Scarsdale, whose parents constantly call to check on them. Their insistence that Benny should let them live rent-free doesn’t make them brave. It makes them annoyingly entitled.

Still, it’s easy to roll your eyes, move on and embrace “Rent.” Director Evan Ensign has painstakingly replicated Michael Greif’s original staging, from Angela Wendt’s thrift-glam costumes to Marlies Yearby’s intricate, story-telling choreography to Matthew Maraffi’s faithful adaptation of Paul Clay’s original multi-level set design.

Little moments reveal the attention to meticulous detail: Angel’s stunning tabletop leap and impossibly arched backbends in “Today 4 U.” The sexual chemistry that sizzles and pops between Maureen and Joanne in “Take Me or Leave Me.” The extraordinary soloist (Jasmine Lawrence) in “Seasons of Love.” Roger ripping open a seam in the sky when he hits the money notes in “One Song Glory.”

Angel is especially incandescent. It’s a showboat role no question, but King’s athletic eleganza would stand out even if Angel was not bouncing around in a micro-mini Santa skirt, zebra-print tights and seven-inch heels. Stripped down to the skin in “Contact,” King becomes an apparition from which you can’t divert your eyes. It’s a star turn, full stop. As the brooding depressive Roger and the nerdy, emotionally closed-off Mark, Bess and Marks have the easy chemistry you’d expect from best friends. Tucker is pure provocateur in Mimi’s “Take Me Out,” stalking the stage like a panther trying to decide whether to mate or kill. As Maureen, Moe’s over-the-top “Over the Moon” casts a magical spell.

Larson’s score is a thrilling mix of operatic emotion. The full-cast rendition of “Seasons of Love” is an ode to joy with harmonies so lush they practically have colors. Adams’ and King’s “I’ll Cover You” is buoyant with love and playfulness. The ensemble’s slow, harmonic build in “Will I” is symphonic. Bess’ and Marks’ late-in-the-last-quarter “What You Own” sounds like a reckoning.

Larson died in 1996, on the morning “Rent” opened in previews off-Broadway. More than two decades later, his creation retains its firepower. Season after season, there’s plenty here to love. “Rent” isn’t edgy or groundbreaking anymore, but it remains powerful and true to the original in all the right ways.

Catey Sullivan is a local freelance writer.