There are plenty of reasons to consider Jonathan Larson the great enigma. Most directly, he was the creator of the Broadway musical Rent, which went on to become a cornerstone for Gen-X culture, popularizing the discussion of issues often not discussed on the stage. Many still end the year by singing “Seasons of Love,” fondly looking back on what has come before. Along with the incorporation of rock instrumentation and openly queer characters, he did plenty to break down barriers and create a sense that the 21st century was going to be more diverse and exciting. Rent’s greatest achievement was coming at the end of the 20th century and being able to summarize the century before and the decades ahead. While it’s become more divisive in the time since, there’s no denying that Rent refuses to go away.
What ultimately makes him an enigma is that despite making a generation-defining musical that launched the careers of Idina Menzel and Taye Diggs, he died prior to the previews. He never got to see any success despite being so aspirational, desiring to change the face of theater. It makes sense to deify him as a tragic case, someone who could’ve done so much more. To compare to another famous composer in the film adaptation of his other show tick, tick… BOOM! (2021), imagine if Stephen Sondheim died in 1965 by the age of 35. While he would still be the creator of West Side Story and Gypsy, there would be no: Company, A Little Night Music, Sweeney Todd, Into the Woods, and Sunday in the Park with George among others. Basically, it was the period where he got more ambitious, defining his style and becoming one of the greatest composers and lyricists in musical history.
To be completely honest, it’s difficult to imagine Larson ever having a portfolio that impressive, but there’s no denying that the reputation he created suggests that he might have made a small dent. He had the young, spry spirit of an artist eager to push the medium forward and challenge our definition of a musical. At the heart of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s directorial debut is a show that is so obtuse that it could only exist on Broadway. Superbia is a sci-fi epic meant to be the first “MTV generation musical” and deal with heavy topics of the day. The only catch is that it’s not very marketable, making it a tough sell to investors and even more difficult to put on Off-Broadway because of financial costs. Nobody denies that Larson has talent, but his baby that has been growing for eight years feels doomed.
If Miranda has any bigger message around Superbia, which if real is one of Larson’s least-known projects musically, it’s that sometimes hard work doesn’t pay off. Sometimes all it reflects is working on craft and helping to find your voice. It won’t necessarily make a marquee, but those willing to see your potential will eagerly anticipate your second project, believing that once you’ve gotten that eagerness out of your system, you’ll know what does and doesn’t work. There is a need to shift to something more personal, more reflective of what makes an artist singular and genuine, which is the core of tick, tick… BOOM! and saves it from being simply Miranda’s love letter to a fallen artist, who as a teenager inspired him to pursue theater and make shows like In the Heights.
Larson, played by Andrew Garfield, is a figure that seems deified from the first frame. With a context not likely available to the original show’s run (under one of many other names), Miranda creates the context that he made Rent and is considered a pioneer of theater, deserving to be hailed as the medium’s greatest “What if?” What if he lived and made four or five other shows? With allusions to his more famous show, the remaining film is largely a look at him trying to sell Superbia while presenting a landscape that’s supposed to be as wildly inventive as his imagination, constantly looking for sparks of inspiration in a world others deem mundane. What makes him worthy of gracing a stage?
The greatest gift and curse of assessing Larson as an artist is how limited his body of work was. Outside of Rent, this will be many’s awareness of who he was. At least from Miranda’s lens, he’s an artist who lives the Boho life and has a shower in the kitchen. He’s friends with gay men who are dying of AIDS while working a humble job at a diner by day and getting praise from the theater community by night. There is a drive to him that is aspirational, at one point claiming that he writes jingles about sugar while clocking his 9 to 5. He’s filled to the brim with potential, or so he believes. It’s the energy, that gleam in his eye. The only thing that feels like selling out to his corporate overlords is his desire to make it by the time he’s 30 because that’s the moment society has deemed artists to be useless.
It’s what shines through in Larson’s music, including the aggressive “30/90” that finds him incorporating guitars and piano, creating something so manic and fresh. Like the title, there’s the push to be something greater before inspiration burns out. Along with tangential segments where he performs in a concert/stand-up combination a’la Cabaret or Chicago, he unveils his story of struggle as the ultimate selling point. This is one of those behind the scenes, making of stories that have become a bit novelty at this point. In order to buy into the charm of tick, tick… BOOM! one first must believe that their protagonist is a self-appointed genius struggling with his ultimate achievement, the moment he becomes immortal.
Which is the biggest issue of Larson writ large. Because he is only known for two works that are very similar in style, the amount one loves tick, tick… BOOM! is rooted in their relationship with Rent. Given allegations that he plagiarized it from another artist’s work and the song style is inherently dated in 90s pomp, it becomes difficult to fully believe his ego. Even if this show isn’t about the making of Rent, it feels so baked into the context that there are scenes where he walks by posters for The AIDS Crisis, such as the famous pink triangle “Silence = Death” one that is supposed to allude to him wanting to make his biggest hit. How much of this is added by screenwriter Steven Levenson is unclear. However, it’s clear that the audience is supposed to find these moments profound, where he dips into a pool and finds the scenery giving him inspiration, where his words appear in the sky. It’s the most poetic vision of writer’s block ever set to film, but it’s also the work of a 30-year-old making a sci-fi musical that nobody cares about.
A conflict with Larson’s style is that his shows largely exist in the vein of the starving artist. Getting to the end of his work results in an interesting perspective. Throughout the two hours of tick, tick… BOOM!, there is encouragement to care about him knocking on doors, ignoring his friends and family for his art, and taking down the establishment with his witty, edgy banter. Levenson doesn’t totally free him of blame, but it’s clear that Miranda is more eager to idolize him, thinking that he’ll eventually make it. The music sequences, which often feel improperly disjointed from the bigger narrative, are so affectionate to struggle.
Like Rent, there isn’t so much a period than an ellipsis at the end. While he does a good job of creating songs that build character (mostly to the benefit of Larson’s ego, like the comic dysfunctional relationship number “Therapy”), the ultimate vibe is self-awareness to the era. From “30/90,” it is clear that this is 1990, the start of a new decade, a start of a new life. Yes, it works as a metaphor for him turning 30 and having a fun lyrical scheme, but the musical’s biggest theme is inspiration and reason to move forward. Given that his friends are dying of AIDS, it’s strange how sidelined queer themes often are in favor of overcoming his own self-involved creativity. As a result, the big conclusion is that upbeat desire to continue. Like Rent’s “What You Own,” he uses vague inspiration disguised as “the future is coming!” The anticipatory nature is supposed to be a form of activism in place of a bigger point
Sure, it works in tick, tick… BOOM! because Larson went on to make Rent and was verified as a genius. As a personal deconstruction of an artist’s career, it’s a halfway decent execution that mostly works because the people making it clearly are in love with their subject. The desire to make him stand out as some great figure is undeniable. The only issue is that in the process Miranda’s visual flourishes are both lacking in the dance numbers but also in decisions around incorporating 90s aesthetic. There’s not enough personality shining through the numbers to make it a cohesive experience, more a collage of things that Miranda was likely nostalgic for. It’s fun, but what is it saying about Larson, the staunch anti-consumerist who flicks his nose constantly throughout this film? It all becomes too conventional by the end to really care.
This is most embodied in the much-discussed diner scene set to the song “Sunday,” itself a reference to Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George. It’s a moment that is designed to be big for no other reason than it crams dozens of Broadway stars into one diner. While there’s an excellent use of harmonies and it’s fun to notice Philippa Soo and Renée Elise Goldsberry sitting at tables, it feels tangential. This is a glorified cameo instead of casting them in roles that could enhance subtext. Miranda was likely using this moment to suggest that all Broadway stars had humble beginnings and worked hard jobs before making it big, but again… why is it in Larson’s story? What is gained from seeing three people from Hamilton talk about buying coffee and eating breakfast? Much like Something Rotten!’s song about musicals, it’s fun outside of the greater context, but inside feels too distracting, having people pause the film and ask “Is that Andre DeShields of Hadestown?” instead of appreciating any deeper sentiment.
On some level, a movie about putting on a show makes sense as the breeding ground for endless musical references, but it also feels strange. Larson’s impact is undeniable with Rent, but the belief that he was anything greater is farcical. What makes it more impactful than the more inclusive A Chorus Line, or more willing to address The AIDS Crisis and interpersonal queer themes like William Finn and Falsettos? Even the conceit of him wanting to push boundaries and change the landscape feels reminiscent of Fame (1980). This isn’t to say that he didn't have talent and showed a lot of potential, but singling him out never made sense. One can hypothesize for what could’ve been, but calling him the pioneer after credit largely for one work makes tick, tick… BOOM! more difficult to appreciate. Because it’s so clearly about celebrating Larson’s genius status, it becomes hard when the audience just sees him as a naïve young man.
That isn’t wrong. Most people by 30 are barely getting started. Given that Larson’s time on Earth was quickly coming to an end, it’s a miracle that he left any influence let alone one as wide-reaching as Rent. More than anything, it’s that spirit of creativity that is his saving grace, the fact that he had talented people that admired him. As an experience, tick, tick… BOOM! is a romping good time in spite of feeling a bit full of itself. If nothing else, the charm comes in being a young artist, unsure on if you’ll have a legacy in the industry. The anxieties of specifically being that age shine vibrantly through this. Most people with bigger dreams are annoying at this age, even if they’re more discreet about it. An era is over and a new one is starting. The question is what will be done before it all fizzles away? Miranda gives the film that urgency, even if it’s a bit too delicate to be a masterful reinvention on the imagination of a man who clearly had so much going on that needed to be said. It’s sad that we never got to hear it, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves on just how smart he was from the get-go.
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