A Call to "Larsonism"
- Hilary Thomas
- May 5
- 8 min read
By Hilary Thomas:
“In these dangerous times, where it seems the world is ripping apart at the seams,
we all can learn how to survive from those who stare death squarely in the face every day and we should reach out to each other and bond as a community,
rather than hide from the terrors of life at the end of the millennium.”
― Jonathan Larson, writer of Rent
The very first time I listened to Rent was in the fall of 1996. I was driving my mom’s Honda, home visiting from college, and had just purchased that beautiful box-set CD at Tower Records on Lake Avenue, unwrapped it and popped the iconic orange disc into the player. By the time I reached Track 4—the show’s titular number, "Rent"—I was on Euclid Avenue in Pasadena. I remember the exact block, the purple jacaranda cementing the image in my mind. God, isn’t memory crazy? I can’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning, but that musical moment is etched in my mind forever. And the irony is that I didn’t even really like it at first. I thought it was too hard, too loud . . . like the parts of Guns & Roses albums that I would skip over to get myself back to the mellower "Patience" and "November Rain" vibes. What a silly old fuddy-duddy I was back then.
But I immediately perked up when I got to "One Song Glory." By this time, I was cruising down California Blvd., and I was IN. This musical-theatre head who had recently become a pagan Jesus freak because of Ted Neely’s voice in Jesus Christ Superstar quickly became a "Roger-head." Poor Jesus’ days were numbered. "Roger" was to be my new wailing rocker obsession. But then I heard "Out Tonight" and "Mimi" became my new god. No longer fuddy-duddying about this music, I was already feeling so excited about my new life with Rent. Which leads me to "Larsonism."
Twice recently, I’ve been asked about my faith, my religion. Growing up with a Church of Christ minister grandfather on one side and a British agnostic psychoanalyst of a mother on the other, my god connections were a series of mixed messages at best. Church bored me, but I loved listening to the singing. All those deeply harmonized praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost-s hit my soul hard. I could certainly get into the religion of music. Yet the traditional almighty God was hard for me to get behind. I have always been envious of those who could demonstrate unwavering religious faith. However, there are certainly truths I subscribe to in a deep and devout way. I believe in "measuring life in love." I believe in "no day but today." I believe in "give in to love or live in fear." I believe in "connection in an isolating age." I believe in "the opposite of war is creation." I believe music is "the food of love." And of course, all of these truths are perpetually spewed by one Rent character or another on repeat in my ears, my brain, and my soul.
So these days when I’m asked about faith, my response is “I’m a Larsonist.” Of course, I’m referring to the deity that is Rent's creator, Jonathan Larson. It’s a little facetious, a little niche, and doesn’t go over well unless I’m talking to a RENT-head. But more and more, as I flesh out what it means to be a Larsonist, I realize that I’m actually quite serious about it.
I’m living my life through this Larson lens.
A lens that is obsessed with art (at times to an annoying degree), that is lifted up by an army of friends and artists, that has watched too many of their friends die, and feels compelled to immortalize them through art. A lens that tries to lead with love above all else. That fights for convictions by sharing the most important, underrepresented stories through art. This is my faith. This is "Larsonism."
Of course, there is certainly a Jesus-eque element to this story. On the night before Rent’s preview performance, Larson died tragically of an aortic aneurysm. He was 35 years old. Larson always felt an overwhelming compulsion to get his art into the world before it was too late. He felt this impending sense of doom. This "tick tick boom." All he ever wanted was to change the face of musical theater. And boy did he do just that! He unapologetically put rock music, queer characters, AIDS, and drug addiction up on the Broadway stage. And somehow, his early, devastating death catapulted this show into something more powerful than just some musical for teens to rock out to. Lin-Manuel Miranda has often said that without Rent, there would be no Hamilton.
In psychology classes, we learn about flashbulb memories—like when JFK was killed, the Challenger explosion, 9/11, etc. We all knew exactly where we were, and the memories are crystal clear, like a movie. I felt a flashbulb awareness in my soul that day, driving around Pasadena, listening to those Rent songs for the first time. Somehow I knew this was a musical that would shape the rest of my life. It sounds dramatic, but it turned out to be completely true. It was the soundtrack for so many big moments. Getting dressed on the evening of my 21st birthday, feeling anxious that my friends would force me into horrifying shot-induced barfdom at The Hut that night, I rocked out to "What You Own." My first drink was obviously a Tom Collins. A few years later, I adopted a tiny kitten. Named her Mimi. Twelve years later, she got sick. The night she died, I stayed up all night with her, held my hand to her tiny heart, waiting for the last beat . . . we had Rent playing on repeat. I recently came across a video of my daughter as a tiny baby, just kicking and smiling like crazy as "I’ll Cover You" played in the background.
April 29, 2016, I found myself on a plane, in somewhat of a fever dream, seated next to Adam Pascal, the original Roger in Rent! I got to tell him about my passion for the show, that his voice had been a major part of the fabric of my history. I told him about Larsonism, and he didn’t even laugh at me. For four straight hours, he shared every detail about his experience with Jonathan, with the show, each devastating moment from that night after Jonathan died. Obviously, I sat there with my jaw and my soul wide open. As we concluded our magical flight, Adam casually mentioned that on the Hamilton stage, at that very moment, the cast was singing "Seasons of Love" following their curtain call, because it happened to be Rent's 20th anniversary. As if I needed any more proof that this was my path. Are you there, Larson?! It’s me, Hilary.
So here we are, celebrating the 25th anniversary of Lineage with this darn show that I’ve been obsessed with for most of my life. And we’ve compiled a giant, ridiculously talented cast of RENT-heads of all ages. The crazy thing about doing this show with so many generations of "Larsonists" is that we all feel the show in a similarly powerful way. The love, the inspiration, the freeness, the acceptance, the pride of artistic protest, the beauty, the connection. These youngsters in the show did not know AIDS like some of us did. They did not lose people to the disease. They did not know the fear of getting it. My love for Rent caused me to fiercely believe that I would die of AIDS. As a 20-year-old, I genuinely thought I would be dead in five years. Not as much because I was engaged in unsafe activities but because living in a Rent world made it statistically so. And I most definitely lived in a Rent world.
For years, I vowed that I would never do Rent at Lineage. I love it too much, and I’d be devastated if I ruined it. I still stand by that. And I’m terrified. I’m also well aware that Rent isn’t for everyone; it’s not by any means a perfect show. But I’m having the freaking time of my life. Those who hang around Lineage know that we've been dancing to Rent numbers for decades now. Each year, I sneak a few more songs into our repertoire. These pieces have been shaping the show all along, and I didn’t realize it. It feels scary to "dancify" Rent in the way that breaks from tradition. But that’s what we do at Lineage. We "dancify." We move through our feelings and honor people we love with choreography. The choreography of so many people that we’ve loved (and some that we’ve lost) at Lineage is sprinkled all over this show. In Dance for Joy classes, rehearsals, and workshops, we’ve talked about measuring our life in love and what that looks like. We’ve crafted specific movements to honor each person’s love, which can be found especially in "Seasons of Love."
I am eternally grateful for every person involved who has poured their blood, sweat, tears, talent, and monumental amounts of love into this show. There is no more fitting way to celebrate 25 seasons of [Lineage] love than to have a Larson freakout. And we’re doing just that! My brain spouts Rent lyrics day and night. Each note that has lined my soul for decades suddenly has a new movement and a new memory associated with it as the blocking and choreography unfolds. I don’t want to kill the nostalgia, but I want to honor the show that has given me so much more than I can ever articulate.
"How do you document real life when real life’s getting more like fiction each day?" — Rent
The most insidious RENT-ness that has infiltrated my essence over the years is my "Mark Cohen" life lens. I obsessively turn every piece of my life into art. All I want to do is make art all the time. But maybe it’s not just Mark that I’ve become. It’s "Roger," who is obsessed with writing that one song. That glory. It’s "Maureen" who protests through art. It’s "Collins" who intellectualizes and hypothesizes with love. It’s "Angel" who oozes light and goodness and leads with dance and joy. They are the real Larson disciples.
The Lineage Performing Arts Center Presents Rent
Cast and Crew: Hilary Thomas, Cynthia Crass, Rob Lewis, Courtney Simpson, Peggy Burt, Aidan Rawlinson,
Alyssa Holmes, Andrew Abaria, Donnie Riddle, Emmon Amid, Jade Duong, Jana Souza, Tae Adair, Keila Fisher, Julianne Silona,
Wayne Remington, Diana Leon, Gil Dolet, Trevor Short, Austin Roy, Caterina Mercante, Ericalynn Priolo, L.G. Malunes,
Marco Tacandong, Meghann Zenor, Molly Mattei, Nola Gibson, Teya Wolvington
To those who are new to Rent, welcome to the cult! Sink into the music, the characters, the love, the bohemia. Take a dip in the Larson pool. Marvel in these beautiful, flawed characters, each struggling to find their truth, their art, their passion, despite their tragic circumstances. Though the perception of HIV and its guaranteed death sentence has progressed tremendously since the show’s inception, it is sad to see that so many of the show’s themes related to bigotry and homelessness ring truer than ever today. So we continue to spread the word. We lead with love.
Remember in love. Figure in love. Measure in love.
Watch out world. "Larsonism" is spreading. One show at a time.
Get your tickets for this performance here!
Hilary Thomas is the artistic directory of the Lineage Dance, a contemporary dance company dedicated to raising awareness for nonprofit organizations and to making the arts accessible to all. In 2010, the company opened the Lineage Performing Arts Center (LPAC) in Old Pasadena as a community hub designed to encourage community awareness through the arts. LPAC created the DANCE FOR JOY free classes for those affected by Parkinson's Disease, Alzheimers, Stroke Recovery, Cancer, and Autism. Hilary has also been on faculty at Flintridge Preparatory School, teaching science and dance since 2001.
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