seven venues

How do you measure the life of a cultural phenomenon? When Rent opened on Broadway in 1996, the story of young artists dealing with poverty and AIDS in fin-de-20th-siècle New York City shook the blue-haired theater scene — and spawned a cult of obsessive repeat visitors known as Rentheads. But from the premature death of creator Jonathan Larson to the launching of its stars, the rock opera's journey to the Great White Way was itself an unforgettable tale. In the final months of the Tony-winning show's 12-year Broadway run, we asked Rent's original artistic team to look back at its extraordinary seasons of celebration, mourning, and — yes — love.

Larson was a struggling composer — and expert diner waiter — with a couple of shows under his belt when, in 1989, he began updating Puccini's 1896 opera La Bohème. Replacing tuberculosis with AIDS, and setting the story in Manhattan's still-seedy Alphabet City, Larson spent seven years shaping Rent.

Al Larson, Jonathan's father: He told me he was going to do a modern-day version of La Bohème, and I told him, ''If you screw around with that music, I'll kill ya.''

Jeffrey Seller, producer: I met Jonathan in 1990, when I saw the first incarnation of Boho Days, his warm-up act for Rent. It was his autobiographical story of what it's like to be an artist in New York City, turning 30, unable to pay the bills, and asking, ''How in the world do I exist when all I want to do is write rock musicals that no one wants to produce?'' And he was expressing it with these great pop songs that just totally got under your skin. It was visceral. And I just knew. This artist was speaking for me, even though I had never met him before. I wrote him a letter the next day saying, I want to produce your musicals.

Jim Nicola, artistic director, New York Theatre Workshop: We had just moved into this neighborhood [on 4th Street between Bowery and 2nd Avenue] in '92. Jonathan decided it was the perfect space, so he sent Rent to us. The songs I heard on that first rough tape were so clearly superior to anything I had been hearing to that point from composers.

Seller: The first reading I saw in the spring of 1993 was pretty rocky. It wasn't a play yet. It was a collage of songs about life in the East Village. It had a great opening song, ''Rent.'' It had a couple other songs in there — ''Today for You,'' ''Seasons of Love.'' It had the fever, but it didn't have the narrative. And then he invited me to the staged reading that Michael Greif directed, in November of '94.

Michael Greif, director: When he was granted a Richard Rodgers Award and they were looking to put together a workshop production, I was asked if I would be interested in directing it. I responded really heartily to Jonathan's story about these young people who were coping with HIV in a moment when I knew a lot of people who were also coping with HIV. I liked how queer-positive it was, as well.

Seller: Michael discovered that the way for him to stage it was through these metal tables and folding chairs. There was a band platform on the right side of the stage, and there were these tables and chairs on the left side. And I'm sure Anthony [Rapp, who played Mark] was wearing the same scarf. ['94] was the first time we saw ''Light My Candle.'' I came with my business partner, Kevin, and we knew we were in the midst of something groundbreaking. It was Daphne Rubin-Vega singing ''Light My Candle'' on that stage, and that was everything.

Daphne Rubin-Vega, Mimi: I was in this Latino comedy troupe called El Barrio, USA. And I had a purple beeper, and I got beeped by an agent. She talked about this musical based on La Bohème. And I remember not wanting to hear the word musical. I never wanted to be Annie — that was not my thing.

Anthony Rapp, Mark: I was working in a Starbucks on the Upper East Side. I hadn't done a musical in years, and I went in and auditioned for this Off Broadway rock opera — and that phrase, admittedly, didn't fill me with a tremendous amount of confidence. After doing the ['94] production, it was very clear to me that this was something extraordinary. I kept saying to my friends, ''I think this is gonna make kind of a splash.'' These stories had not been told in a mainstream way. Two HIV-positive gay men, one of whom was a drag queen, falling in love. A lesbian couple. A straight couple who were HIV-positive. There was an authenticity that people could really connect to — suburban housewives, and small-town teenage girls, as well as gay men.

Seller and New York Theatre Workshop agreed to produce a full Off Broadway workshop of Rent in winter 1996. With Greif, Rubin-Vega, and Rapp already in place, casting began for the rest of the ensemble, as Larson struggled to shape the show.

Greif: Jonathan loved collaboration, in that he loved getting input, he loved getting opinions. He just ate and drank and slept and wrote the musical. I don't think there's any truth to the idea that he had problems with collaborating. He just wanted to collaborate all the time. [Laughs]

Larson: He would call and play each new song on the phone. Even if you weren't there.

Greif: I knew we had to cast it very authentically. It was very important to me that the flaws of the young characters were always evident, that their youth and naïveté was very much a part of what made them so likable.

Idina Menzel, Maureen: I was singing at weddings and bar mitzvahs all over the tri-state area. January and February are slow months for weddings, because it's cold. So I needed a job.

Taye Diggs, Benny: I had just gotten back from Tokyo Disneyland, doing this Caribbean carnival show. I remember making a conscious decision to focus on television and film, and this audition came up. I thought I was just gonna have a cool, artsy musical to put on my résumé and I could go back to trying to be a big fat movie star. I had no idea.

Jesse L. Martin, Collins: I'd been doing the whole regional theater thing up until then, and I was just psyched to be near home and doing a play. I was living in Tribeca. That's when Tribeca was nothin'. It was a no man's land. We were living in a straight-up ghetto palace.

Adam Pascal, Roger: I was working as a personal trainer. I was just intrigued by the concept of auditioning for something — which I've come to not be quite as intrigued by. After my first open call, I had three auditions, all in the same week. After the third time, I got a call: ''They want you to come back again.'' I was like, ''Are you kidding me? After seeing me three times they can't decide? F--- that!''

Seller: When I met Adam for the first time, he'd never been in a play in his life.

Martin: I had no idea that Adam didn't have any experience. He only said that later in the process. I was like, ''Wait. You've never, ever been on stage?'' He was like, ''I've been in a rock band...'' If he didn't know what he was doing, acting-wise, I never knew.

Pascal: I got the part. I wasn't head-over-heels. I was really more like, ''Okay, this is gonna be something new and interesting...and how am I gonna manage to keep my job from 6 to 10 in the morning while I rehearse all day and do the show at night?''

Seller: And within four months he's on the cover of Newsweek.

Wilson Jermaine Heredia, Angel: In the audition they asked, ''The character's a transvestite — do you have problems wearing heels?'' and I said, ''I'm an actor, I'll do anything.'' So we went to Trash and Vaudeville on St. Marks, and bought those platform heels. They hurt like hell.

On the eve of rehearsals, Larson invited the company to his tiny West Village apartment for a ''Peasant Feast,'' a dinner tradition he'd begun years ago.

Pascal: I was completely fascinated by this group of people. I remember meeting Anthony and recognizing him, like, ''I know this guy. Who the f--- is this guy?'' And it was just from Adventures in Babysitting and all these movies. And I remember the first time meeting Daphne, with her wild head of hair, and these skin-tight leopard-skin spandex pants.

Rubin-Vega: I remember Adam was wearing overalls.

Pascal: My friend used to wear overalls, so I started wearing them too. And before I knew it, me and my friends were all wearing overalls. We looked like a bunch of f---ing rednecks. Jesse Martin, this big black guy in overalls, hanging out with these white guys in overalls — we were the most bizarre-looking group of people.

Martin: We looked like some ragtag gang. Like we should have slingshots in our back pockets, and frogs.

Menzel: Taye sometimes wore overalls, too, with no shirt under.

Diggs: There would be a tank top underneath. It's not as Color Me Badd as it sounds.

Rubin-Vega: I brought these green beans, and they burnt a little bit. I remember thinking, ''Oh s---, I burnt the green beans.'' And then I thought, ''Oh, Mimi would have burnt the green beans, too.''

Pascal: My girlfriend at the time cooked a tray of roasted root vegetables.

Rubin-Vega: Jonathan made his toast, which he was utterly choked up about.

Rapp: He said, ''This is a show about my life, and you guys are now my family, my friends. You're bringing them to life, but you are also a part of my life.''

Pascal: I have to be honest — I barely remember that speech. I wasn't hanging on every word going, ''This guy's gonna die, and the show's gonna become huge.'' You know? He was talking. And I was like, ''Where's the wine?''

Rehearsals began at NYTW in December 1995, with Larson continuing to rewrite as they went along.

Fredi Walker-Browne, Joanne: The first day of rehearsal, we sang ''Seasons of Love,'' and I said to myself, ''Well, if this is some junk, it's gonna be some of the best-sounding junk you've ever heard.'' [Laughs]

Kristen Lee Kelly, ensemble: There was this myth that we were all 12 years old, and had been eating garbage in the East Village, and they put us on stage. But we weren't! The majority of people were well versed in the art of the thea-tah.

Diggs: Everybody was very intelligent, ridiculously talented. These were not the type of theater folks that I had been exposed to in the past. We weren't talking about the latest Steven Sondheim musical on our lunch break. We'd have real conversations about real s---.

Rapp: I always wonder if it seems hyperbolic to people who weren't there. We all just came in that room and did our best. And Michael Greif, I feel, has never gotten enough credit for making that environment possible.

Diggs: What was great about Michael is, he wasn't pretentious in any way. There were a bunch of things about that show that I didn't get — words that people were using, drugs that we were talking about that I'd never heard of. And he was so gracious and generous and just explained it to us.

Greif: We had a damn good time in rehearsal, and you know when you're having a damn good time in rehearsal. It was very clear that things were clicking. Jonathan was very happy with that.

Martin: Jonathan was so excited you couldn't help but be excited about it, even when you didn't really know what's going on. Like, ''Okay, it's gonna be awesome! I don't know what we're doing, but it's gonna be awesome!''

Gwen Stewart, ensemble: Jonathan knew he wanted to have a solo in ''Seasons of Love,'' and he kind of left it up to me to make up what I wanted to make up. I stood at the piano and kind of closed my eyes and started riffing. I don't read music, so I didn't actually know how many bars of music there were. I just kept singing and singing, and Tim [Weil, the musical director] stopped playing, and he says, ''Well, there's not that much music.'' And Jonathan says, ''We'll write some.''

Menzel: We took a lunch break, and Jonathan walked with me and a couple of the other cast members to Tompkins Square Park. He was all excited about the progress of the show, and he had just quit his job at the diner. We got sandwiches from a deli and sat in the park. It was just a really great moment, to sit with the composer in the heart of the East Village, surrounded by the people we were playing.

Rubin-Vega: There was a huge blizzard that year that kind of stopped everything. We were walking in the middle of the street and throwing snowballs at each other, and Jonathan was totally taking it in. I just thought, ''He wants to be here.''

Diggs: I could tell that he respected all of us a great deal.

Nicola: We were two, three weeks into rehearsal before a couple of the songs in the second act were finished.

Menzel: Jonathan came in and taught me and Fredi ''Take Me or Leave Me'' a couple days before previews, and we performed it for the cast for the first time. That's when Taye said he felt really attracted to me. Like, ''Wow, this girl can really sing.'' Because he used to think, ''What is this girl doing here? She doesn't really have a role, and she just sits there with her big boobies and her crazy curly hair, and what is she doing here?''

Diggs: We had our rehearsals blocked off in chunks, and she was in the rehearsal room before me. I came a little early, and I remember hearing her sing. I mean, she was getting down. And it made me start to cry, because she was so committed and so good. I had never heard her sing before.

Menzel: So yeah, we met, we started dating, we moved in together nine months into our Rent contracts, and then we got married eight years later.

Martin: They were pretty quiet about it at first. I wasn't even aware until they were well into it. But there was a lot of hooking up. They weren't the only story going there.

On Jan. 21, Larson collapsed in the lobby of NYTW. He was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with food poisoning. Two days later, feeling ill, he again went to the hospital and was told he had the flu. At Rent's final dress rehearsal on Jan. 24, it received a standing ovation from the audience of invitees, which included a New York Times writer.

Martin: It was really the first time that we had put the show together. Everybody was nervous. It was a great night, though. I remember people seemed so into it, audience-wise. That NYTW space is great to work in, because you're face to face with the audience. There's no real space in between. So you could see what was going on. You could feel it. And it was pretty awesome.

Rapp: When I came out from backstage, I was looking for Jon, just to say hi, and give him a hug. He was standing to the side, surrounded by people. People were clamoring to talk to him. The Times had sent a writer who was gonna write a piece about the 100th anniversary of La Bohème, and he was so blown away by what he'd seen that he asked Jonathan for an interview. And I was like, ''Oh, I'll see him tomorrow.'' And then of course, the next morning, I woke up and got that terrible phone call. He died in the middle of the night.

The day of Rent's first public performance — Jan. 25, 1996 — Larson's roommate came home at 3:30 a.m. to find him on the floor. An autopsy revealed Larson had died of an aortic aneurysm. He was 35.

Kelly: It's not like he's an aged composer and we knew he was ill. It was totally random. He'd fainted like two weeks before, and we all thought, ''Oh, well, he had food poisoning. He puked and passed out.'' Who hasn't? And then we had our first dress rehearsal and he gets interviewed by the New York Times — and dies. That night. Goes home, makes a cup of tea, dies.

Larson: We were living in Albuquerque. At 5 in the morning, I was awakened by a phone call. It was Chuck [Jonathan's brother-in-law], and he says, ''Jonny's dead.'' And it took me a bit to absorb that. We were on an 8 a.m. plane.

Nicola: We just started calling people, [and] we told them if they wanted to they could just come to the theater. We had food, and we were all together for the day.

Menzel: Jim Nicola called me at home and told me that Jonathan had passed, and I said, ''Well, I'm supposed to meet Daphne to walk over to rehearsal, so I'll call her.'' We were in disbelief.

Martin: Jim left a message — just, ''We need to talk to you.'' I honestly thought, ''Maybe I'm getting fired.''

Walker-Browne: Gwen was staying with me. And we were in the bathroom doing the girl thing, talking about nails or whatever it was, and that phone rang. And after that we both just sat in that bathroom, totally messed up.

Rubin-Vega: I felt like we were these little animals huddled together after a hurricane. I remember people in the company sobbing, and I remember thinking, Now there's an extra kind of purpose attached to what we do. We're, like, ambassadors of this funk.

Pascal: The majority of my relationship with Jonathan existed in the rehearsal room. I didn't experience the loss of a loved one as his loved ones did. The pain I felt was for my friends who I could see were suffering so bad.

Diggs: I remember being very annoyed. People were weeping uncontrollably, and it made me uncomfortable. I wanted to be away from everyone, and just deal with the weirdness of the situation on my own. I remember wishing that I had known him better, too. Because the people that did know him were so grossly affected by his loss that I almost felt a bit like a fraud. I kind of regret that selfishness that I felt at the time.

Menzel: We sat in a circle, and decided to cancel the preview that night. We were just gonna do a sing-through, no costumes.

Nicola: It was family and friends only in the audience that night. But it was full.

Larson: The company wanted to do something for the family. So very reluctantly, we headed downtown. This was in heavy snow — I remember pushing through snow piles up to my knees and higher. They started out seated at the three tables.

Martin: There was, like, water, and cups on the tables. Like some sort of strange conference. I just remember the room was so heavy. I kept complaining that I felt like I had a cookie stuck in my throat.

Larson: By the time they got to ''La Vie Bohème,'' they couldn't sit still anymore, and they started jumping around, and dancing.

Martin: You know, in the staged version, we'd be at these tables. And there we were, sitting at these tables, and we were like, This feels so stupid to sit here and just sing the songs. Anthony was the brave one. Anthony just got up, and stood on a table. And then it exploded.

Stewart: God, that show took so long, 'cause there wasn't a dry eye in the house. You could not possibly get through that without just bawling.

Kelly: Of course, as an actor you've tried to make the song clear, but then when you're singing [the show's lyric] ''no day but today,'' the day he dies? That really said, ''Kristen, anybody you love can get hit by a truck today. You could get hit by a truck.''

Seller: To even use the word irony is the greatest understatement of the century.

Larson: When they got through, everybody clapped, and then everybody sat there. Nobody knew what to do. And then a voice shouted out, ''Thank you, Jonathan Larson.'' And that broke the ice. And I remember standing at the seat, saying to somebody that I hope this show's a success, and becomes a living testimonial to Jonny. Obviously, I didn't know what the hell I was wishing for. [Laughs]

Menzel: I know that Michael Greif made sure to speak to Jonathan's family, and that everything along the way was always okay with them. When they lost their son, they sort of gained 15 new sons and daughters that were up there every night singing his music.

Larson: Every kid that's been in this show has become family, whether they want to or not.

Thanks in part to Larson's now-posthumous Times profile, the Rent workshop became the hottest ticket in town.

Pascal: Once the whole ball started rolling, it became obvious. You think, Can this get any crazier? And then something bigger happens: Al Pacino's sitting on the stairs in the NYTW because he can't even get a seat. My parents came to see me and they were like, ''We were sitting right in front of Steven Spielberg.''

Seller: [Angels in America director] Joe Mantello called me and said, ''I just saw your show, and I want you to know it's the next A Chorus Line.'' I started to feel like something great was happening, and Kevin and I looked at each other and said, ''This is a Broadway show. If Broadway can't accommodate this, then we can't work in the theater.''

Rapp: This attention meant that Rent could live all the more, which meant Jonathan was still alive. When he won the Pulitzer Prize [in April], it was just this incredibly bittersweet mixture of joy and sadness that he wasn't there. But it all sort of felt like destiny. Like something carved out this thing in the sky, and then we just stepped through.

On April 29, Rent opened at Broadway's less-than-desirable Nederlander Theatre on 41st Street, where the show was a required destination for celebrities.

Seller: It was a scary block and a derelict theater. Somehow we got to feel like we were still downtown, even though we were uptown.

Greif: The first time we hit the Nederlander stage, we did what we had been doing as sort of a mini-ritual already, and we all just stood together and looked at one another and sang ''Seasons of Love.'' We understood what it meant to be there and what it cost.

Kelly: Opening night was ridiculous. It was ridiculous.

Martin: I don't remember the show so much. I was kind of floating 3 feet above the ground the whole time.

Heredia: I never look at the audience, but I can tell you the one moment that I did look out and saw someone that was recognizable was Prince. It was hard to ignore him. He was wearing hot pink, and he was on the aisle.

Stewart: I come from a church background. The first time my mom came, I start my solo, and she stands up and waves her arms and says, ''That's my baby!!'' Michael J. Fox was in the audience. He comes backstage and says, ''Amazing solo, but could you believe that woman?''

Rapp: When President Clinton and his family came, it was thrilling, but it was also like, ''Yeah, this is what happens. You have command performances for the President when you're part of something. This is the way the world works.''

Nicola: In the end, I think the power of the work itself superceded the pigeonholing of the show as a downtown phenomenon. Many millions of people got to appreciate a beautiful piece of work because it moved. Because it entered the mainstream.

The cast suddenly found themselves at the center of a media whirlwind. Bloomingdale's put ''Rent fashions'' in their windows; the cast hit the talk-show circuit; and on May 13, Pascal and Rubin-Vega found themselves on the cover of Newsweek.

Pascal: We had no idea we were going to be on the cover until it actually came out. And as soon as I saw it, the f---ing vain f---er that I am was not even excited. I was like, ''That is the worst picture.''

Kelly: The amount of press we were doing was exhausting, so the idea that if you were a lead you had to do those extra 10 photo shoots and stuff? God bless 'em. They handled it really well. I probably would have become a heroin addict.

Rubin-Vega: I understand why people who are really young, like, freak out and lose their s--- and need to go to rehab early. I understand.

Rapp: There was almost like an unspoken agreement that no one was going to get out of control. The stakes were too high. It wouldn't have been tolerated.

Kelly: It felt like a band of brothers. And it was Broadway. It's not like we're in Lord of the Rings.

Greif: I think these people responded with so much grace and so much generosity. The world was beating on their doors and telling them they were great, and while all that was going on, they were also grieving, and caring so much about Jonathan not being a part of their success. We've all been touched as people to go through that.

At the 1996 Tonys, Rent won four awards, including Best Musical. And as the celebrity hype died down, the lines of ''Rentheads'' — kids who lined up for $20 rush tickets hours, if not days, before each performance — only got longer.

Seller: The circus always leaves town. And then the cast had to cope with the hard work of going up and doing the show eight times a week for 1,200 people who are not famous, but who came to see their show.

Pascal: I had no idea how to do that and take care of myself. Didn't even know that I should be drinking water. So we would have all these crazy kinds of concoctions to try and take care of our voices, but yet we were smoking cigarettes and staying out all night drinking. There were many shows where I just croaked through it. It was awful.

Diggs: I enjoyed performing it. And I enjoyed the rise. But it wasn't until much later, when I could take a step away and mature a bit, when I realized the magnitude of the entire moment. Everything one day just fell on me like a ton of bricks. I forget what cast I was watching, but it all just hit me in some number, and I broke down. Until that point, I was listening to other people say how they were affected, but not quite feeling it myself. You know, that's kind of how I do. It takes a while for things to sink in.

By 1998, the original principals left for other projects, but they reunited in 2005 for the movie version, directed by Harry Potter helmer (and self-professed Renthead) Chris Columbus.

Chris Columbus, film director: I originally saw the play in the first couple of weeks after it premiered on Broadway. And I basically fell in love. I lived in New York for 17 years. We had a third-floor walkup loft where we actually threw the key down to our friends. Rent felt very personal, and what I saw all those years ago needed to be preserved in some way. That was one of the reasons I wanted to go back to most of the original cast.

Menzel: I was so surprised. If Julie Andrews didn't get to be My Fair Lady, then why would Idina Menzel get to play Maureen?

For the film, two Broadway stars were MIA: A pregnant Rubin-Vega, who was replaced by Rosario Dawson, and Walker-Browne, whose role was played by Tracie Thoms.

Walker-Browne: I was too old. I'm sorry. I cannot front 26 on camera.

Rubin-Vega: I felt that I was kind of conspicuously uninvited to a party.

Dawson: I grew up in a squat on the Lower East Side, so I lived that lifestyle. I found out Chris was doing it, and I was like, I have to do this. I have practically zero training in theater, and I'm going to go into this audition and make a fool of myself because I know who Mimi is, and I love her, and I want her to be represented the best she can be. I went in there and sold myself so hard.

Rubin-Vega: But Rosario was — I don't know. She belonged there.

Dawson: I didn't talk to Daphne. That was a little bit awkward. I'm still anxious about it. Her voice and what she did with that character is iconic. I hope that at one point we'll be able to sit down and be cool.

Ultimately, the film received mixed reviews, and grossed only $29 million.

Rapp: I think we did our absolute best to try to be true to the impulses and spirit that created the show in the first place. This era of AIDS in our country is still woefully misunderstood — or not understood — especially in the younger generation, and I think there was a very powerful thread in the film that tells that story of what it was like when many, many young people were dying.

Pascal: Is it a perfect movie? Of course not. But Rent had a situation that none of these other movie musicals have — this active, rabid fan base around the world, who are sitting there going, ''If you f--- this movie up...'' They have such a vested interest. Nobody gives a s--- if Hairspray is good or not.

Walker-Browne: I think the biggest problem is that the genre got confused. The genre of Rent is not musical — it's opera. And by making it a musical and trying to have scenes and dialogue and justify certain things, you blow your realm of magic. Moulin Rouge was closer to what Rent should have been.

Stewart: That was not the show to make Hollywood. That was not the show to glamorize. That was the show to leave intact, because it was as earthy and New York and gritty as it was supposed to be.

Columbus: I felt that we really had to isolate certain areas of the East Village. We couldn't shoot everywhere, because there were Starbucks on certain corners. It felt too clean. So how do you re-create that? You have to treat it as if you're doing any sort of period piece. So we tried to be as historically accurate and as grimy as physically possible. But you're never going to satisfy those purists at all.

Pascal: When I go to Santa Fe, and I'm singin' on the f---in' rocks? While we were shooting it, I was like, ''This is a bad idea. This is a baaaad idea.'' But I'll tell ya, it was fun to do.

Martin: I was proud of the movie. I thought everybody there did a really good job. It obviously didn't do what people were expecting at the box office. But I think the thing stands up. I think the movie really does stand up.

Rapp: There was such derision and division from some circles that was kind of shocking. There were certain critics that had been lying in wait. Literally, some of them said this in their reviews — that they never knew why it was a hit in the first place, and now they're getting their chance to debunk it. You know, saying the only reason it ever was a hit is because Jonathan died. It's an indefensible argument. You can't separate it, because it is what happened. But there's no way that a 12-year-old girl today is discovering the show and falling in love with it because Jonathan died. There's just no way.

Columbus: It's the only time I've ever experienced anything by seeing reviewers so completely divided, torn by the film. People either hated it or loved it. At the time it was devastating. The fact that the film did not connect to a wider audience is still probably one of the most disappointing things in my entire career.

Rubin-Vega: I've never really seen the film from beginning to end. So what was your question? [Laughs]

Rent plans to close its Broadway doors June 1, 2008. It will have played 12 years and 5,012 performances.

Rapp: There's this piece of my life that lives on in my city. I walk down Seventh Avenue and there's the marquee — there's something incredibly comforting about that. It's like a touchstone. But over the years I've heard so many people express to me, ''I can't wait to get the chance to play that role.'' Now many people are gonna get those chances.

Seller: Most people's experience of Broadway [plays] is from the show being produced by their high school or community theater or college. That'll be our next chapter.

Martin: I'm really psyched about seeing, like, the Poughkeepsie Day School's production of Rent. I think that's kinda cool.

Menzel: I can't imagine how much it will help young people struggling with their own sexuality to be able to have that play. What an incredible gift. Jonathan will now live on in younger generations, and it will just keep getting passed on, and be timeless.

Regardless of Rent's enduring impact on the public, it has left those involved with its creation profoundly changed, both personally and professionally.

Pascal: It made me a less bigoted person. As forward-thinking as you like to think that you are, if you grow up in white suburbia, you're gonna grow up with prejudices. Having the chance to do this show and meet all of these people and fall in love with all of these people — it opened me up to the love of other cultures and sexual orientations.

Rubin-Vega: It's about living in the moment and loving in the moment. I think that that's a very beautiful and noble message. The older we get, the more we just say, ''Oh, f--- that s---, must make money. I need to be safe for me and my kids, so maybe they can afford to have those feelings.'' Rent tells you it's not about affording things, it's about affording to have that space in your heart.

Rapp: It validated the idealistic part of me. When people come together and take a stand and speak about things that make a difference, that can have a huge impact on the world. And one of the reasons the intervening years have gotten hard is that I had such a profound meal of that. It was so delicious, and then when the work I was doing was just a little more shallow, that's what I missed the most — being a part of something vital and important.

Martin: I got spoiled by the experience. You go into subsequent projects assuming that you're gonna have this crazy camaraderie, and everybody's gonna jive, and it's going to be an amazing collaborative effort — and then it's just a regular-ass play.

Menzel: We always knew what was real and how we got there. And I feel like I try to remember that through my entire life, and all the big and small accomplishments that I've had since then, and you know, take things with a grain of salt, to remember how precious it all is.

Heredia: I felt like, for once, I was part of the club.

Kelly: I don't see the Rent folk as much as I'd like to, but there is this connection with everybody. It just feels like, ''Oh, okay, I know you.'' We went through this thing, and no one else can really understand it. It sounds kind of like we're precious about it. We're not.

Larson: Everything I did, I did ostensibly for Jonny. But at the heart of it, I did it because it made me feel a little better. My message then and my message still is, if you give me my druthers, you can have the show and all the success, if Jonny could still be alive. Bittersweet was the word that everybody used at the time. And it was bittersweet, except a hell of a lot more bitter than sweet. I really did love my kid. And I just hated to see him cheated of what he'd worked so hard for. And I still do.