Of course, the plot was never all that hard to follow, especially for those with even a passing familiarity with “La Boheme,’’ the Puccini opera of young, tubercular poets and artists in Paris that served as Larson’s scaffolding for a tale of young, HIV-positive rockers and drag artists in New York. But being able to hear clearly what the characters are singing to each other makes the parallels more precise - and that, oddly enough, makes the particular setting and tone of this story slightly less irritating than it could otherwise be.
The problem, at least for anyone who was over 30 when the show debuted in 1996, was that what might have seemed romantic in Puccini’s Latin Quarter too often felt self-indulgent and self-righteous in Larson’s East Village. The kids bellow proudly about not paying the rent - but why shouldn’t they pay the rent? Even artists owe something, don’t they?
This time around, though, such questions feel less nagging than before. Partly because 1996 is fading into the past, and partly because this cast is so endearingly charismatic, we’re able to see Roger and Mimi and the rest of the gang as romantic inventions, not tiresome real-life spongers.
And just look at Angela Wendt’s costumes: vinyl as tight as a coat of paint, artfully ripped lingerie, nerd-boy glasses, plaid flannel shirts - these are lovingly created period renditions of mid-’90s hipster cool, made with as much care as any 19th-century bodice or weskit. Now that they look a little dated, paradoxically, they’re also a little cooler than they used to be.
The balanced sound mix also gives the music a clean shine that it has lacked before. Particularly on the lovely “I’ll Cover You,’’ the bouncy-sassy “La Vie Boheme,’’ and, of course, “Seasons of Love,’’ we get to hear the musicality of Larson’s writing as well as the rocking beat.
