Rent is essentially a New York version of La Bohème. The characters are reimagined as struggling artists in the late 20th century, with Mimi suffering from AIDS rather than tuberculosis. Knowing the opera makes the plot easier to follow, since almost all the main characters have direct counterparts: Roger from Rodolfo, Mark from Marcello, and so on.

Roger and Mark live in a shabby loft once owned by their friend Benny, who now manages the building. Mimi, an exotic dancer, knocks on Roger’s door asking for a light, sparking a fragile romance. Mark serves as the show’s narrator, and his ex-girlfriend Maureen now dates Joanne. A key modern shift from Puccini’s opera is Angel, a drag queen who falls in love with Collins, giving the show both warmth and tragedy.

The music is driven by rock energy, with Roger’s guitar riffs and lyrics often referencing La Bohème. Jang Ji Hoo played Roger with believable grit and conviction. Mimi, portrayed by Kim Hwan Hee, was one of the best roles I’ve seen her take on. Having watched her in Hadestown, Kinky Boots, and Mamma Mia, I found her voice and presence especially suited to Mimi’s decadent charm and tragic allure — a performance that made me imagine her excelling in roles like Carmen one day.

Kim Ho-young’s Angel radiated self-respect and playfulness, while his death scene was somber and moving. Collins, played by Yoon Hyeong Ryeol, paired well with Angel, bringing sincerity to their love story.

Some moments felt culturally adrift. “Over the Moon,” for example, puzzled me — without context, Korean audiences might miss its satirical references to consumer culture, cartoon icons, and American protest movements. On stage, it came across mainly as a quirky sexual joke with cows and milk. La Vie Bohème drew applause with its energy, but its barrage of barrier-breaking slogans felt one-dimensional; I expected a sharper satirical edge that lingers afterward.

Of course, the expected highlight was “Seasons of Love” (“525,600 Minutes”), the number that unites cast and audience in its simplicity and emotional pull.

When AIDS spread in the 1980s, it provoked both fear and stigma. Jonathan Larson, who lived alongside friends battling HIV/AIDS, drug addiction, and poverty, transformed those realities into a reimagined opera of artists struggling to survive and create.

In Korea, AIDS cases remain rare (fewer than 1,000 in a population of over 50 million), though drug problems are on the rise. The specifics of Rent may not resonate as strongly here, but starving artists are universal, and the themes of love, loss, and resilience travel well. Korean audiences continue to embrace the show — proof that adventurous, risk-taking viewers help keep the musical theater scene vibrant and diverse.