Despite the critical and financial success of Chicago, Hollywood hasn't taken many chances on musicals recently, but it's still a surprise that Rent has taken nearly a decade to make a cinematic transfer. It deals with issues that are certainly contemporary and of interest to prime target audiences: homelessness, homosexuality, AIDS, drug addiction, and relationships. These issues are comfortable fodder for Spike Lee, who was originally slated as director, but studios want sure-fire money makers. Still a bit skittish with musical genre material, Lee likely demanded an edgier take and bigger budget than producers were willing to grant. But Rent was too big a property to be denied, and Chris Columbus (Mrs. Doubtfire and Harry Potter) was brought aboard.

Immensely popular on Broadway, Rent's original 1996 production won a plethora of awards: Tony Award, Obie Award, New York Drama Critics Award, Drama Desk Award, and the Pulitzer Prize. The play's own poignant history makes compelling drama�after struggling seven years to bring his concept on stage, creator Jonathan Larson died just before it opened on the Great White Way. Each performance is dedicated to his memory.

I never saw Rent on Broadway and missed the much hyped road show version when it came through Phoenix, but now feel that I've seen a suitable rendition through Chris Columbus' film. Opening with its eight principal characters enthusiastically singing "Seasons of Love" on a bare stage, Columbus visually pays homage to the stage production and prepares the audience for the stagy formatting to come. It's not a choice that original Spike Lee likely would have made, but give Columbus credit for respecting his source material. He even casts six of the original cast members: Taye Diggs (Benny), Wilson Jermaine Heredia (Angel), Jesse L. Martin (Tom Collins), Idina Menzel (Mareen), Adam Pascal (Roger), and Anthony Rapp (Mark). He would have cast the other two as well had they been available, but both Rosario Dawson (Mimi) and Tracie Thoms (Joanne) effectively carry out their roles.

Set primarily in a lower East side industrial loft, the story follows bohemian artists as they struggle to carve out an existence in Manhattan. The issues laden plot is as simple as a soap opera to follow, forming an uneven framework to hang its character study on. Subtle Rent is not, but the play has its heart in the right place—pushing for understanding of the plight of the homeless and HIV+. Its main strength lies in rendering a handful of infectious songs/scenes that transform potentially stereotypical characters into sympathetic and memorable ones.

Most positive and appealing is transvestite drag queen Angel, who exuberantly drums contributions on the street and serves as the glue that binds the group together despite being the most advanced HIV+ case. Personifying his namesake, he comes to the aid of computer guru Tom when he gets mugged, and the two HIV+ men quickly become steadfast, loyal lovers.

Narrating the story is filmmaker Mark, who shares a loft with HIV+ musician Roger. Both have lost girlfriends—Roger by a drug addict who committed suicide when discovering she had AIDS and Mark by Maureen when she found more pleasure from a lesbian love affair with lawyer Joanne. Still in mourning and not stepping outside the loft for the past six months, Roger want to write just one meaningful song, but everything he writes comes from "Musetta's Waltz" in Puccini's La Boheme, a self-referencing "joke" since the entire musical is based on this opera. Perhaps he'll be drawn out and inspired by their downstairs neighbor Mimi, an exotic dancer and junkie, who is HIV+.

Former roommate Benny has recently joined corporate America to transform their area into Cyber Arts, a multi-media studio that would a virtual dreamland for creative artists (and end the traditional idea of a suffering bohemian lifestyle). Benny offers Mark and Roger free rent if they can stop Maureen from putting on her coming protest show against their recent eviction of the homeless.

Original play producers were hoping that the film version would prove worthy of the creator's original version, and Columbus succeeds on this basis. Not everything works cinematically here—most notably Maureen's big protest show production that would never inspire anyone, including the virtual police riot staged within the film—but most on the production numbers are performed sincerely with great energy and range. Rock inspired songs merge with operatic arias with appropriate emotions that run the gamut from sardonic wit, to tearful death scenes, betrayals, poignant redemptive moments, to life affirming joy. Such an uneven mix requires an excellent cast to carry it off, and Columbus' casting decisions prove to be the strongest portion of the film.

Although I would have preferred the riskier and more cinematic take that Spike Lee most likely would have created, Chris Columbus delivers 135 minutes that pay proper homage to Jonathan Larson. And judging by the audience I was with that had a number of teens singing along with the cast, Rent works well enough to bring a suitable box office return to justify future risks on other modern musicals.