How Do You Measure a Year?

Missy Craver Izard                         
July 25, 2026

“525,600 minutes, 525,600 moments so dear.
525,600 minutes—how do you measure, measure a year?”

Seasons of Love from Rent has become one of the most recognizable songs in musical theater. Measured in minutes, a year holds 525,600 of them. But as Jonathan Larson reminds us, a life is measured not by time alone, but by love.

That simple yet profound idea forms the heart of Rent, which follows one extraordinary year—from one Christmas Eve to the next—in the lives of a group of young artists struggling to survive in New York City's East Village at the height of the HIV/AIDS epidemic.

The first time I saw Rent was at the Nederlander Theatre on Broadway in 2000. My middle-school-aged daughter, completely enamored with musical theater, and I embarked on a whirlwind theater weekend in New York. Truthfully, I knew very little about Rent. I recognized Seasons of Love and knew it was one of Broadway's hottest tickets—that was enough for me.

As the story unfolded, I remember wondering if some of its themes might be beyond my sixth-grade daughter's understanding. In retrospect, they were probably beyond mine as well. But as I watched her become completely captivated by the music, the storytelling, and the performances, I realized I was witnessing something special. This was more than a show—it was the beginning of a lifelong passion.

Her excitement reminded me of my own first unforgettable Broadway experience. At about her age, my parents took me to see Funny Girl starring Barbra Streisand at the Winter Garden Theatre. When Streisand sang "People," I knew I wanted nothing more than to sing and dance on a Broadway stage. Looking at my daughter that afternoon, I recognized the very same spark.

Fast forward twenty-six years, and Rent opened this weekend at the Flat Rock Playhouse.

I settled into one of my favorite seats—B10. It offers plenty of room should the spirit move me to dance, an unobstructed view of the stage, and no one directly in front of me. As I sat down, the gentleman behind me tapped me on the shoulder.

"You may not want to sit in front of me," he said with a grin. "I'm going to be singing every song."

"Not a problem," I replied. "I will be, too."

The exchange perfectly captured the affection audiences continue to have for this remarkable musical.

Director Lisa Bryant has created a production that honors the energy and emotional depth of Larson's groundbreaking work. The East Village setting is gritty and authentic, providing a compelling backdrop for this community of struggling artists, musicians, filmmakers, dancers, and dreamers as they navigate love, friendship, poverty, addiction, and devastating loss.

Loosely based on Puccini's opera La Bohème, Rent remains as relevant today as it was when it premiered nearly thirty years ago. Its themes of community, resilience, acceptance, and living fully despite uncertainty continue to resonate with audiences of every generation.

Nat Zegree shines as Mark Cohen, the aspiring filmmaker who serves as the show's narrator and emotional anchor. Although Playhouse audiences have enjoyed his talents in numerous productions, Rent allows him to showcase the full breadth of his artistry. His performance is warm, engaging, and genuine, effortlessly balancing humor with vulnerability while demonstrating once again why he is one of the Playhouse's most versatile performers.

Brendan Dallaire is outstanding as Roger Davis, Mark's roommate, an HIV-positive musician struggling to recover from substance abuse and the suicide of his girlfriend. Dallaire and Nat Zegree have an easy chemistry on stage, creating a believable friendship that anchors the production. Both possess exceptional voices, and their musical performances are among the evening's highlights.

Leading lady Ilana Garcia is captivating as Mimi Marquez, a young Latina nightclub dancer who is also living with HIV while battling heroin addiction. The attraction between Roger and Mimi develops naturally, weaving a romance throughout the production that is both passionate and poignant. Garcia's powerful vocals soar throughout the evening, particularly in the show's most emotionally charged numbers, where she brings equal measures of strength and vulnerability to the role.

One of the production's standout performances belongs to Jordan Alexander as Angel Dumott Schunard, the exuberant street percussionist and drag queen whose generosity of spirit lights up every scene. Alexander brings warmth, humor, and extraordinary heart to the character, making Angel impossible not to love.  Dion Simmons Grier is equally touching as Tom Collins, and together the two create one of the musical's most tender and memorable relationships. Their quiet affection for one another provides the emotional center of Rent, making the profound loss that follows all the more heartbreaking.

The strength of Rent lies not only in its principal characters but also in the remarkable chemistry of its entire cast. Emily Kristen Morris brings boundless energy and charisma to the role of Maureen Johnson, the flamboyant performance artist whose personality is as unpredictable as it is magnetic. T. Shyvonne Stewart provides the perfect counterbalance as Joanne Jefferson, portraying her with intelligence, confidence, and heartfelt sincerity. Their scenes together are both humorous and touching, revealing the many complexities of love and commitment.

Josh Marin delivers a memorable performance as Benjamin Coffin III, the former friend turned landlord whose ambition has placed him at odds with the community he once called home. His portrayal captures Benny's internal conflict without sacrificing the humanity of the character, reminding the audience that in Rent, very few people are simply heroes or villains.

The ensemble deserves special recognition for creating the vibrant world of New York's East Village. Whether portraying neighbors, street musicians, support groups, or nightclub patrons, they fill the stage with an infectious energy that makes the production feel alive. Their harmonies are rich and powerful, and in the large ensemble numbers they become far more than supporting players—they become the heartbeat of the story.

As the curtain fell and the audience rose in enthusiastic applause, I found myself expecting one final encore of Seasons of Love. It is, after all, the anthem that has defined Rent for nearly three decades and the song that lingers in your heart long after the final curtain. It never came.

So, as I pulled out of the Flat Rock Playhouse parking lot, I did what any devoted Rent fan would do. I asked Alexa to play Seasons of Love. Windows up, music turned high, I sang every word on the drive home, reliving the evening one more time.

Perhaps that is the greatest compliment I can give this production.

More than twenty-five years after first seeing Rent on Broadway with my daughter, Jonathan Larson's timeless question still echoes in my mind: How do you measure a year?

The answer, now as then, is beautifully simple.

Measure it in love.