in serious need of beta.
like i said: serious need of beta. this time, though, it's not for a fic or anything like that. college essay time, guys.
The first time that I saw Angel die, it was a Friday night in New York City. Not two hours before, the biting January wind had been nipping at my face, sending a chill, not unlike the one I felt then, down my spine. Both times I pulled my scarf a little bit tighter around my neck. Both times I exhaled deeply. She was only a character on stage, I told myself, dying of AIDS and sickness and possibly too much love, but later I came to regret that observation. And since that first show, I've seen Angel die four times, seen Collins re-wire four ATMs, seen Mark tango four times with Joanne, all in less than a year. Since then, the story of RENT hasn't grown old.
As a child, my mother and family used to take me to the theatre to see shows on Broadway. I saw countless performances that I'll never forget (the last performance of the original cast of The Music Man, the thrill of seeing an actor jump on a stage-sized piano in Big, the comfort of a small, off-Broadway theatre and seeing The Fantastiks), but none struck me so thoroughly as my first experience with RENT on January 7, 2005. The characters on stage in RENT changed forever the way I view musical theatre. Until seeing that show, the performances and actors and characters were there for my entertainment purposes only, to bring me music that I liked to listen to, to give me fun experiences to share with my friends. Going into the show, I only knew two songs; one because we sang it in my church choir, and the other because numerous different friends had already played it for me. When I came out of the show, I had a completely different idea of what life was, what art was, and what it could be.
Jonathan Larson's creation is art in its purest form. It's not the kind of art that could ever hang in museums, and it's not the kind of art put into picture books. Rather, it's the kind of art that moves me to my feet because of its message and the motivation behind it, and the way in which the message is conveyed. 'No day but today' is the line that rings through my head each time I listen to the music, because it's a lyric so full of promise, no matter what else is happening in my life, in our lives, in the world, that it makes sense every time. Until the last time that I saw the show in June, I didn't understand why it was that the lyrics and the set and the characters of this untraditional, in-your-face musical affected me so deeply, but now I do. RENT is what all art should be, and does what all art should do: it makes me proud to be human.
critique, people. serious, serious critique. it's not fabulous, i know, but i can make it fabulous, eventually. and yes, it's supposed to be that short. 250-500 words, and mine is 483. or something like that.
The first time that I saw Angel die, it was a Friday night in New York City. Not two hours before, the biting January wind had been nipping at my face, sending a chill, not unlike the one I felt then, down my spine. Both times I pulled my scarf a little bit tighter around my neck. Both times I exhaled deeply. She was only a character on stage, I told myself, dying of AIDS and sickness and possibly too much love, but later I came to regret that observation. And since that first show, I've seen Angel die four times, seen Collins re-wire four ATMs, seen Mark tango four times with Joanne, all in less than a year. Since then, the story of RENT hasn't grown old.
As a child, my mother and family used to take me to the theatre to see shows on Broadway. I saw countless performances that I'll never forget (the last performance of the original cast of The Music Man, the thrill of seeing an actor jump on a stage-sized piano in Big, the comfort of a small, off-Broadway theatre and seeing The Fantastiks), but none struck me so thoroughly as my first experience with RENT on January 7, 2005. The characters on stage in RENT changed forever the way I view musical theatre. Until seeing that show, the performances and actors and characters were there for my entertainment purposes only, to bring me music that I liked to listen to, to give me fun experiences to share with my friends. Going into the show, I only knew two songs; one because we sang it in my church choir, and the other because numerous different friends had already played it for me. When I came out of the show, I had a completely different idea of what life was, what art was, and what it could be.
Jonathan Larson's creation is art in its purest form. It's not the kind of art that could ever hang in museums, and it's not the kind of art put into picture books. Rather, it's the kind of art that moves me to my feet because of its message and the motivation behind it, and the way in which the message is conveyed. 'No day but today' is the line that rings through my head each time I listen to the music, because it's a lyric so full of promise, no matter what else is happening in my life, in our lives, in the world, that it makes sense every time. Until the last time that I saw the show in June, I didn't understand why it was that the lyrics and the set and the characters of this untraditional, in-your-face musical affected me so deeply, but now I do. RENT is what all art should be, and does what all art should do: it makes me proud to be human.
critique, people. serious, serious critique. it's not fabulous, i know, but i can make it fabulous, eventually. and yes, it's supposed to be that short. 250-500 words, and mine is 483. or something like that.