There’s always a bit of trepidation when heading to a revival of Rent as audiences arrive carrying two competing expectations. On one hand, they want the electric, generation-defining musical that changed Broadway forever. On the other, they want reassurance that the show still has something urgent to say three decades later. Luke Sheppard’s new West End production finds itself negotiating that tension throughout and, for the most part, does so with confidence.
This production is more of a reclamation than a reinvention. Rather than attempting to update Jonathan Larson’s landmark musical beyond recognition, Sheppard leans into the humanity of the musical, allowing its story of artists, outsiders and bohemian dreamers to speak for itself. In a year where so much commercial theatre seems determined to overwhelm audiences with spectacle, there is something refreshingly sincere about a production that places its faith in character and music.
That sincerity is embodied by Gaten Matarazzo’s Mark. Best known to many for his screen work, he proves himself an engaging stage performer (this isn’t his first stage outing). Mark, through his camera lens, has to function as both participant and observer, documenting the lives unfolding around him while struggling to fully engage with his own.
Matarazzo captures that contradiction beautifully, though his interpretation sometimes feels younger and less weathered than the script perhaps suggests, particularly alongside some of the show’s heavier themes. What we see here is less of Mark’s cynicism and, instead, a softer and more idealistic young man, making the character’s emotional growth all the more affecting.
Around him, the ensemble creates a vivid sense of community. Travis Ross gives Roger a restless intensity that gradually gives way to genuine tenderness, particularly in his scenes with Alexa Lopez’s fiercely determined Mimi. Their relationship feels messy and real rather than conventionally romantic.
The emotional centre of the evening, however, belongs to Jeevan Braich and Billy Nevers as Angel and Collins. Braich possesses a natural charisma that lights up every scene, giving us one of the best interpretations of Angel we’ve seen on stage. While Nevers brings heartfelt sincerity to Collins, a role that seems to fit Nevers like a glove. Together they provide many of Rent‘s most moving moments, reminding us that beneath the show’s rock-opera exterior lies a profoundly human story about love and loss.
Musically, Larson’s score still feels exhilaratingly alive, despite some changes to the orchestrations, shifting effortlessly from soaring anthem to intimate confession. “One Song Glory” is performed with aching honesty, “Take Me or Leave Me” crackles with energy, and “Seasons of Love” delights the audience in all the ways that it should. It was during Billy Nevers’ rendition of “Santa Fe” that I realised just how powerful this show still is. The cast delivers the material with impressive vocal strength (and a few added riffs) while never losing sight of the storytelling.
David Woodhead’s industrial-inspired design certainly captures the rough edges of New York’s East Village, but there are stretches where the picture feels surprisingly understated. For a musical so often associated with youthful rebellion, artistic expression and raw emotion, the visual world, including the costumes, occasionally lacks the dynamism to match the music’s energy. There are moments when you find yourself wishing for imagery that feels as alive as the people inhabiting it.
Yet perhaps that ultimately says something about the strength of everything else. Even when the production looks a little subdued, the performances and material keep drawing you back in. Thirty years on, Rent remains a musical about people trying to create meaning in uncertain times, and Sheppard’s revival is a certain hit.
Listings and ticket information can be found here
