Any coincidence between this apocalyptic version of Puccini's "La Boheme" and the original is purely a stratagem of the producers, attempting to bootstrap an agonizingly bad production on the fame of a classic.<br /><br />Puccini wrote music; Jonathan Larson wrote screams. Puccini's librettists conceived an actual story that has transcended generational and societal boundaries; Larson's book will appeal principally to cross-dressing, drug-addicted failures on the lower east side of Manhattan who believe that having rent-free accommodations in one of the world's most expensive cities is a matter of right.<br /><br />What should have been, and what is promoted as being, a synthesis of "Angels in America" and "Hair" sadly turns out to be little more than an overly long, boring story of some wingless, bald, sexually-confused people. And they yell a lot. For a long, long time.