Wednesday, February 22, 2006
I saw a screening of Rent last night - barring the fact that 'rock' and 'opera' are two words that, when put together, strike the fear of god in my heart, it was really great. Due to my exceedingly unprogressive school (plus the fact that our year, when put into a bus, caused a similar reaction to magensium added to water) I never saw the stage show, and only heard the soundtrack when travelling in a daze-fuelled car journey up to the North which didn't do it any favours. It sounded a bit crap actually, unmemorable and gimmicky. Maybe being trapped in the none-more-glossy Sony screening room helped (the pillars were cushioned so that drunken hacks didn't bang themselves on the way out, )cushioned for god's sake) but even maudlin warbles like One Song Glory and Rosario Dawson's octave clambering in Out Tonight got my lip trembling like a gelatinous pudding. It was extremely good and I cried at least seven times which has banned me from ever attending a screening with Blonde Friend again. If expansive, guitar-fuelled escapism is your thing, Rent certainly will be.