I grew up in a very musical household. This was mostly due to my mother, a trained soprano with a lifelong enthusiasm for musical theater and a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of Broadway. Of course, my sister came away with a far greater passion for stage musicals than I ever had, mostly because she has a superb singing voice while I’m entirely pitch-mute (a bad case of tonsillitis ruined my throat when I was a kid. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it). Nevertheless, my constant immersion in musical theater has yielded no small amount of appreciation for the medium, which I expressed by working backstage on several musical productions in high school and in college.

It should come as no surprise that I’ve seen plenty of musical productions onstage, both amateur and professional, both in Portland and on Broadway. I’m an Oregonian who’s seen a New Yorker’s share of Broadway shows. In particular, I remember first seeing Rent on Broadway in the March of 2004. It was in a tiny little run-down theater, which nicely suited the play’s aesthetic. It stuck with me that Rent was a decidedly low-budget Broadway musical in a time when Broadway musicals have budgets increasingly swelling to Hollywood levels. The story was kinda blah and the subject matter dated itself very quickly. Still, the play was full of great characters, all of whom were deep enough for some up-and-coming actors to really sink their teeth into. The music was also phenomenal, with songs that ranged from fun and energetic to serious and angry to heartfelt and saddening/uplifting. The original cast recording was on constant rotation in my house after that Broadway visit, and for very good reason.

With all of this history, I’m frankly amazed that it’s taken me this long to finally see the film adaptation. Hell, we’ve got two copies of this DVD in my house. Still, better late than never, I suppose.

So, I saw Rent as it opened with the ubiquitous “Seasons of Love.” This number was the introduction to Act II and I’ll admit it was smart of director Chris Columbus to move this number to the opening credits, where it wouldn’t be as obtrusive as such a roadblock halfway through the movie would’ve been. But then I noticed that this number was set up exactly as it was in the stage musical. We see them on a fancy stage and everything. Strangely, the first thought that popped into my head was “Why are these characters on a stage? Do they come here often or something?” This was followed by the realization that this thought hadn’t occurred to me when I was watching the stage production, and why should it have? That — during the opening credits, remember — was when I had an epiphany.

Rent is crippled from the outset because this play doesn’t need to be filmed. The play is quite purposefully unspectacular, with no special effects, detailed costumes or exotic sets to improve with Hollywood magic. The story is made special entirely by the inner turmoil of its characters, which is beautifully illustrated by such songs as “Seasons of Love.” This kind of introspection by way of monologuing through song is so much easier and more visually appealing on stage. This comes back to bite the movie several times.

Moreover, a very important difference between film and live theater is that in film, we’re right in the characters’ faces. We clearly see every action and facial twitch, which makes subtlety of paramount importance. Live theater is the exact opposite. Because we’re so far away from the action, we need the actors to push their emotions and to explain some of their actions. This difference is another strike against the movie, as the songs were clearly written to be performed live. Case in point: Lines like “I’m getting nauseous” and “What’d you do with my candle?” make sense on the stage, when neither of these things are readily visible to the audience. In film, when we clearly see the nausea and what Roger did with the candle, both of these lines come off as redundant, awful writing.

Still, it’s not like the transition to film was completely wasted. During the title song, there’s a truly amazing shot of so many apartment tenants as they set their eviction notices on fire and throw them onto the street. The back half of “Tango Maureen” was quite visually interesting, even if it felt like a scene from a totally different movie. The production design is solid, depicting a dirty, crowded, polluted and heavily-graffitied New York. The story demanded that NYC be a hellhole and that’s exactly what Chris Columbus delivered.

Alas, visual creativity can only go so far with this mundane source material. The rest is on the music, which has a few dropped numbers and some changes to the remaining songs, from innocuous lyrical tweaks to giant gaping holes where someone’s part should’ve been. Far worse are those times when songs have been repurposed as dialogue. Screenwriter Stephen Chbosky reworded these segments in some pretty contrived ways to keep the characters from speaking in rhyme, and the lines are delivered in such a way that their original rhythms and melodies can still be faintly heard. It was all awkwardly done, quite frankly.

However, I’m glad to say that the music is still the most enjoyable part of this film. Primarily, this is because of how pitch-perfect the casting is, right down to Sarah Silverman’s cameo as a sleazy news producer. Nearly all of the play’s original actors came back to reprise their roles for this film after a decade on and off of playing these parts and singing these songs. These actors have unparalleled expertise and knowledge of the play, in addition to perfectly honed chemistry with each other. All of this is clearly seen in the film, and they sing the songs just as perfectly as ever. Sure, these actors are now playing characters who are considerably younger, but it’s not like we’ve never seen that before.

The only two recast characters were Joanne and Mimi, with the roles respectively filled by Tracie Thoms and Rosario Dawson. Fortunately, if I didn’t know better, I could swear that they were part of the original cast as well. This is a show that lives and dies on the chemistry of its ensemble and I was glad to see that the other cast members seemed to welcome Thoms and Dawson as part of the family. Thoms had some great interplay with Idina Menzel, who was impossibly youthful and energetic in her old role. Dawson and Adam Pascal played beautifully off each other as well. In fact, Dawson was on fire in this movie, totally knocking her role out of the park.

The casting and the music are easily the best parts of this whole movie. Yet the music is only slightly modified from the original play and all but two of the original actors are singing them. So, how would watching this movie be any better than listening to the original cast recording?

The problem with Rent is that it’s ultimately pointless. It’s clear that everyone involved was trying to do the play justice and to make something special, but there just isn’t enough here to work with and the story is certainly worse for the transition. Truly, Rent is one of those stories that belongs on the stage, where we can meet these characters and watch their struggles without the barrier of a screen.