‘Rent’ @ Circle Theatre
Photos by TayStan Photography
—Ryan Maffei
I’ve never seen a bad show at Circle Theatre, and I’ve also never seen a musical there. As editor Jan noted when I caught her at the second show I saw on Saturday, they’ve certainly done their share (including, recently, some revues in the “Velvet Lounge” lobby), among them several I’ve been sad to miss.
Circle’s Rent is a show you should catch before it closes—whether you’re unfamiliar with it, or date your artistic identity to the first time you saw it.
But first, I’m going to cover my only real issue with the show right away, and then get on with my rave review. The only trouble with this Rent is that it doesn’t sound great.
Over my time in DFW, I’ve learned to offer some grace to our sound designers and mixers, as so many theatrical spaces in the area seem to have been deliberately designed as puzzles for tech teams to solve. And what I’m saying is that this Rent doesn’t sound great auditorily speaking. The sound design is by Claudia Jenkins Martinez, and I could tell the board operator beside us was working as hard as anyone on stage—but all the same, allowances had to be made throughout.
Yet if I judge Martinez’s efforts as an art fan, not an audiophile, the sound is just fine, and in keeping with a Rent whose spectacle needs to be pared down for this intimate venue. Unlike another larger-scale production of the show I reviewed recently, Circle gives their version a homegrown-feeling, with eight actors and four musicians who fill a modest yet flawless set by Bob Lavallee (with painting by Allen Dean and props by Rayven Harris), all vintage punk posters and filthy skylights.
The closeness of the space—and Circle’s seating has never felt quite so claustrophobic—lets us appreciate all the nuance director Garrett Storms has brought to this classic show. I’ve always heard Rent described as corny, which I discussed in my review of the season’s earlier production. But this time I saw it with Claire Fountain, who indeed felt her artistic identity validated and solidified by Circle’s show—and she reminded me that the plot’s suffering artists are a metaphor for queer people, at a time when the AIDS crisis was a fresh trauma. I was better able to see its awkwardnesses as very ‘90s, still an era when it felt cathartic to vocalize taboos.
Storms consciously and wisely accounts for our evolved present. Take a famous barrage of gleefully indulgent debauchery, strangely juxtaposed against the tragic death of a major character. Doing work in tandem with choreographer Amber Marie Flores (Maria Shorunke is the dance captain and Mimi) and fight/intimacy coordinator Danielle Gieorgiou, Storms has taken the pointedly aggressive, admittedly invigorating offense out—but without at all defanging the moment. In fact, its poignance is intensified, providing a uniquely understated Angel (Landon Blanton) his choicest context. This reminded me of the Hair I saw at UT Arlington; rather than disrobe for the audience, the actors undressed behind flags of their choice held by colleagues, sharing intimacy while nullifying exploitation—but not power.
A general sense of sensitivity, and the natural vulnerability intimate spaces like Circle’s always amplify, pervades this Rent. And though you miss the very NYC feel of a teeming ensemble’s momentum, this show has a deep sense of community, one that finds its cherry-on-top peak in the way the musicians are incorporated.
Keyboardist (and music director!) Vicky Nooe is the MVP: unless you count the grandmother roped in to be Maureen’s co-star for her performance art piece, Nooe gets some of the biggest laughs in the show. I hate the sound of fake drums in rock (not pop), but Kami Lujan makes the most of an unavoidable compromise, keeping a spot-on beat as both percussionist AND in a cameo as a cop. Guitarist Kelemen Szabó gets a few moments almost as poignant as any of Roger’s. And while I don’t recall any stage business delegated to bassist Bill Zauner, he does play his ass off.
And the actors! These are some of the most astutely cast, smartly subtle versions of these fools and dreamers you’ll ever see. One pair feel born to play their roles—Gideon Etheridge, our recent favorite guitarslinger, and the brilliant Karrington Sneed. Etheridge’s distinctly “rock” voice has just the right amount of passionate grit and strategic whine for Roger; he’s always so present and moving. And Sneed has all the secure assurance and gravitas of your typical Joannes, but is also the lightest and most effortless I’ve ever seen her played.
Sneed and Etheridge are the glue for an ensemble that feels full of neat twists on the types we know. Vocals are uniformly strong, with everyone starting from a casual place and heating up to showstopping featured feats.
A tall Mark is a novelty, and this one is also as animated as ever. But Ryan Michael Friedman’s expertly programmed energy has an authority, and an insane likability, that does exactly what we need Mark to do—be the most charming face of a motley crew. Ralphael Agee’s Collins is so damn good; I love this role because it’s the most understated, but no less complicated or powerhouse, and by the grief part of his arc you know Agee is doing some of the best work the part has ever allowed. Vincent Witherspoon is a fun, off-kilter Benjamin, with just the right amounts of unctuous and repulsive—but a little kookier than straight Benny usually gets, which is wonderful. Blanton’s Angel, as mentioned, sashays across an astounding course, rarely flamboyant yet always a ray of light.
I personally have never seen a Mimi who’s looked the character’s age until now. But although it makes sense for the actor to seem a little bit lived-in, having a clearly college-age Mimi is a great effect—we genuinely worry about her. Still, Maria Shorunke supercharges the character with all the rocky pathos and exuberant authority her chunk of Larson’s score needs. Shorunke’s chemistry with Etheridge is, it must be said, off-the-charts—these people are pros, but you really root for this Mimi and Roger, like in a great seven-hankie romance movie (you need more hankies in Texas). And then there’s Maureen, sweet, quicksilver Maureen. Lauren Teders, formerly “opaque witch” in MacBeth, is a bundle of dynamite, as dangerous and full of it as we can hope. The performance art piece is written for any good actor to make it a 10/10; this unique rendition hits a 17.
Theatres are losing money, and the rent remains too damn high anywhere you look (except my place; the first of the month hits like 2009, thanks Heeltor). There’s a war on—not that one, the one between whether it’s better to bank on progressive, even transgressive material like Rent once was—or safe, crowd-and-board-pleasing stuff, like Rent is now. Nice to know that as long as this show is running, you don’t have to make the choice. Circle’s Rent is worth its price, and clearly everyone involved put as much love into it as the show has capacity to hold—which, by Jonathan Larson’s design, is quite a lot.
WHEN: April 24-May 16, 2026
WHERE: 230 W. Fourth Street, Fort Worth
WEB: circletheatre.com
