Rent is hailed for introducing taboo subjects (homosexuality, drug use etc) into the relatively conservative Broadway of 1996, but it does this in an infuriatingly two-dimensional token character manner, with terrible songs you can see every bedroom diva earnestly belting out in front of their mirrors, excruciating lyrics ("Where's my stash? It was pure! Is it on the floor?" "I'm not sure.") and a story bereft of plot that only acknowledges the title for the opening number, resolving those trifling issues in the blink of an eye with at least half an hour left before the drawn out ending which just peeters out into nothing...and bloody hell it's long. Nil point.
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