Does Anyone Remember 'Rent Remixed'? Because I Do...

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

There are certain moments in theatre history that feel like a fever dream. One second you’re sure you imagined it — a bizarre little blip in your memory that couldn’t possibly be real — and the next, you find proof it did happen. There was a Spider-Man musical. Patti LuPone did yell at that audience member taking a video. And yes, in 2007, the West End really did put up something called Rent Remixed.

And I have to ask… does anyone else remember this? Or am I the only one who still lies awake at night wondering, “Did that actually happen?”

It did. Oh boy, it did. Thankfully, a TikTok video reminded me of this production. So let’s dive in.

It’s 2007. The original Rent had already cemented itself as one of the most important musicals of the modern era. A Pulitzer Prize. A Tony Award. But London’s love affair with Rent had always been lukewarm — so, in an effort to “modernize” it, director William Baker (best known as Kylie Minogue’s stylist, which should’ve been our first clue) decided to remix the entire thing.

Rent Remixed wasn’t a revival. It wasn’t a reinterpretation. It was more like a chaotic rebranding — a glossy, Auto-Tuned, glow stick-fueled clubland version of the East Village.

The cast of "Rent Remixed"

Now look — I am all for breathing new life into classic shows. I like a bold choice. I can get on board with immersive theatre, gender-swapped casting, a fresh orchestration if it serves the story. But this? This was like someone had seen a clip of Rent on YouTube, skimmed a Wikipedia summary, and said, “Cool, I get it — it’s like The OC meets The Matrix, but with singing.”

Siobhán Donaghy, formerly of the Sugababes, played Mimi. She looked the part and sounded great, but the direction left her floating in a haze of strobe lights and lost subtext. Luke Evans — yes, that Luke Evans — played Roger, trying his best to emote in a world where even “One Song Glory” was up-tempo. The cast wasn’t the problem. They were talented, committed, and clearly giving it everything they had. But they were stranded in a production that didn’t seem to know what Rent was even about.

And here’s the thing: I didn’t even see Rent Remixed live. I was living in the U.S., following theatre news mostly through message boards and early YouTube uploads. But even from across the Atlantic, the chatter started immediately. People were talking. And not in the “you have to see this masterpiece” kind of way — more like the “you won’t believe what they’ve done to it” kind of way.

Years later, I finally listened to it and have seen some bootlegs of the performances. And wow. It somehow managed to live up to — and surpass — every strange thing I had heard. The remixed orchestrations, the synthetic sound, the bizarre new transitions. I kept thinking, maybe it’ll click if I just listen again, the way some revivals do once the shock wears off. But no. Each listen just confirmed what I had suspected all along: this was not Rent. At least not the Rent I knew. The Rent that changed me.

And I was a Rent kid through and through. The kind of fan who got goosebumps every time I heard the “December 24th, 9PM” voicemail beep. I’d watched the original Broadway cast video like it was sacred text. I knew every measure, every harmony, every moment where Maureen goes slightly off-pitch and it’s still perfection.

So even without seeing it live, the idea of this production felt…offensive. Like watching someone try to turn your childhood diary into a TikTok trend.

And maybe the most jarring part was just how willing it was to erase the very thing that gave Rent its heartbeat: grief.

Jonathan Larson wrote a show that was loud and messy and deeply alive — a defiant anthem in the face of death. He poured his friends, his fears, his fury into those characters. Rent wasn’t just a musical. It was about people trying to live — truly live — when everything around them was telling them not to.

To turn that into a high-gloss, ambiguous pop show felt not just misguided, but disrespectful.

The reviews were brutal. The Guardian called it “a dismal mess.” The Telegraph said it “crashes and burns.” Even the Daily Mail (and when they’re right, you know it’s serious) slammed it. The production closed after just three months.

But I still think about it. More than I probably should.

And it’s not like Rent is some untouchable relic. It should be questioned, critiqued, and reexamined. It’s been 30 years. The world has changed. Our understanding of queerness, illness, gentrification, and art-making has evolved. A bold new production of Rent that honors Larson’s spirit while pushing boundaries? I’d line up tomorrow.

But Rent Remixed wasn’t that. It didn’t push the show forward — it stripped it of its soul.

So yeah, I remember Rent Remixed. And not fondly. But maybe it served a purpose. Maybe we needed that ill-advised glow stick version to remind us just how precious the original was. Just how much intention matters. Just how quickly meaning can vanish when marketing takes over.

If someone out there is plotting another radical Rent revival — and let’s be honest, someone always is — I say this: go big, but go honest. Don’t fear boldness, but don’t forget the blood in the ink. The people in the story. The voice behind the music.

Jonathan Larson wasn’t trying to be trendy. He was trying to tell the truth. Let’s not remix that part.