Without You: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and the Musical Rent (36 page)

T
he frigid night air hovered at around 20 degrees Fahrenheit. Huge lights had been lofted into the sky on cranes, shining gorgeously onto Tompkins Square Park. A small crowd had gathered at the end of the block, huddling for warmth under a large tent on the corner of Seventh Street and Avenue B. I stood halfway down the block in the middle of Seventh Street and shivered, my breath pluming out before me. I looked up into the night sky and imagined that Jonathan was looking back down from wherever he was—if he was anywhere, that is—and if he was in fact looking down, that he was catching a glimpse of all of this.

Then Chris Columbus yelled, “Action!” and the turbulent guitars and pounding drums of “What You Own” blared out of the speaker being held in front of me, and a camera crew, seated in the back of an electric car, led me down the street, filming as I, hardly believing it was all really happening right then and there and for real and forever, began to sing out into the cold night air, in the middle of an East Village street, this song that I loved.

After many years of rumors and speculation and false starts, the film version of
Rent
was finally happening. Chris Columbus, with whom I’d made
Adventures in Babysitting
in 1987, had given many of us from the original cast the great gift of the opportunity to reprise our roles on film, and shooting had begun in New York City two days prior. We had already spent a couple of months rehearsing and recording in and around San Francisco, but this nighttime walk that I was taking down the middle of the street (a couple of blocks away from the apartment I’d lived in while I was performing in
Rent
at the New York Theatre Workshop and on Broadway) brought the reality of what was happening home more than anything I’d yet experienced while working on the film. I was in the real neighborhood where Mark and Roger lived, in the real city in which the story Jonathan had written all those years before was set, and I was doing it all more than ten years after performing in the original studio production.

Even though I had been singing some of these songs for over a decade, when I walked into the first day of rehearsals on San Francisco’s Treasure Island three and a half months earlier, I couldn’t wait to start working on them anew. And as I sang through them with my old friends from the cast and Tim Weil, our original musical director, who had happily been hired to work on the film with us, I realized that I would never grow tired of
Rent
’s music. I would always be grateful to Jonathan for having written such gorgeous songs, which continued to fulfill and reward and reveal themselves in the singing of them, all these years later.

I delighted in witnessing Tracie Thoms and Rosario Dawson struggle to contain their excitement as they felt for the first time the overwhelming power of the harmonies in “Seasons of Love” surround them. Tracie tore into her solo with power and soul, went toe to toe with Idina in “Take Me or Leave Me,” and gave me good stuff to play off in “Tango: Maureen.” Rosario slinked her way through “Light My Candle,” howled her way through “Out Tonight,” and bared her heart wide open in “Without You.” Since not all of the original cast could be a part of the film, we were blessed to have Tracie and Rosario with us.

I stood at the piano during rehearsals and listened as Tim led Jesse and Wilson through “I’ll Cover You.” Years before, in London, I had witnessed what I thought was their last rendition of this song, and here they were again, singing to one another with as much joy and love and connection as ever. I couldn’t stop beaming.

I sat in the rehearsal room and was freshly devastated by the agonized and explosive wails of Adam’s “One Song Glory,” which I also thought I would never hear again.

I joyfully leaped onto the table as we rehearsed “La Vie Boheme,” finding my groove again, rediscovering how spastic I could be, doing my best to lead the way as we danced and boogied and sang our tribute to all things bohemian.

And as the weeks of rehearsal, recording, and filming continued, I felt that I had come home.

As I write this, we have just finished shooting the film, and while I have only seen the first teaser trailer and a couple of brief scenes cut together, all indications are that the film will far exceed my hopes for its success. Members of the crew, many of whom had never heard of
Rent
before working on it, regularly went out of their way to say how extraordinary they thought the material was. Chris told us that he was making the most important film of his life. One of the crew members even told me he thought the film was headed for Oscar nominations. That may or may not come to pass.

Regardless,
Rent
has continued to profoundly alter and affect the quality of my life. And now my partner, Rodney, who never saw me play Mark Cohen and missed the initial wave of the show’s success, will experience that for the first time. He will bear witness to this new chapter of
Rent
in my life, and share in whatever new gifts it brings our way.

I do wonder if Mom, or some essence of Mom, is aware of this latest turn of events. I know she would be thrilled. And on the night of the world premiere of the film, at the incredible Ziegfeld Theatre in New York City, as I’m watching myself onscreen in the darkness of the cinema, wishing she was there by my side, I will take comfort in this memory: standing on the stage of the Nederlander Theatre on opening night nine years ago, singing my heart out, and looking up to see the reflection of our hundreds of stage lights gleaming and shining off my mother’s proud and loving face.

This book was written over several years, in several cities, and required the patience and kindness and support of many.

For reading early chapters and offering invaluable insight and criticism, I thank Traci Wallack, Carrie Friedman, Laura Varoscak, Elizabeth “Butch” Walker, Melanie McBride, Melissa Anelli, Bill Jahnel, Laura Morris, Cybele Pascal, Shana Campbell-Jones, and Bruce C. Steele.

For meeting with a neophyte author like myself and encouraging me to believe I am a real writer, I thank David Black, Elaine Mark-son, Kip Kotzen, Beth Vesel, Mary Evans, and Jennifer Rudolph Walsh.

For offering safe, supportive spaces in which to write while I was staying in their homes, I thank David Román and Richard Meyer, Carolyn Lowen, Camryn Manheim, Patrick Fischler, and Felix Pire.

For inspiring me immeasurably throughout this process, I thank the best teacher I ever had, Sande Shurin.

For offering compassionate wisdom and loving-kindness when I needed it the most, I thank the staff of Friends In Deed, especially Cy O’Neal, Jon Read, Robin Magid, and their colleague Sharon Kleinberg.

For offering me incredible opportunities for growth over the years, I thank the men and women—especially Karen Bihari and Sandy Robbins—with whom I volunteered and participated in Landmark Education’s courses and programs. Collectively, they helped me locate within myself the courage to be true to who I am; they inspired me to expand my vision of what was possible for me in the world; and, most important, they urged me to then step out into the world and do everything in my power to make a difference where I could.

For providing more care to my mother during her illness than I was ever able to, I thank my family, especially my aunt Roberta and my sisters, Anne and Rachel.

For never giving up on me during this process, even when I couldn’t see my way through it, I thank my agent, Irene Skolnick.

For leading the way in living a life as an accomplished writer and for becoming one of my closest friends, I thank my brother, Adam.

For opening up my heart and showing me new hope in my life, I thank my partner, Rodney To.

For sharing themselves so fully on and offstage (and now on and offscreen), I thank the casts and crews of all the various incarnations of
Rent
with whom I have had the privilege to work.

For giving this book his generous blessing, I thank Jonathan’s father, Al Larson.

For seeing this book through to its completion with sensitivity, grace, and intelligence, I thank my editor, Terra Chalberg.

And finally, for asking me to write this book in the first place—thereby reawakening my long-dormant desire to be a writer—and embracing it even after my appointed task was long overdue, I thank Rob Weisbach, without whom this book truly would not have come into being.

ANTHONY RAPP
has been acting professionally since he was nine years old. He’s best known for originating the role of Mark Cohen in Jonathan Larson’s Pulitzer Prize–winning landmark rock opera
Rent,
taking the show from off-Broadway to Broadway, Chicago, and London. He shared an OBIE Award with the rest of the original cast for his performance. He has appeared in numerous films, including
Adventures in Babysitting, Dazed and Confused,
the Oscar-winning
A Beautiful Mind,
and most recently, the film adaptation of
Rent.
In 2000, he released his debut album,
Look Around.
He lives in New York City with his partner, Rodney To, and their three cats, Emma, Sebastian, and Spike. This is his first book.