Posted Nov 24, 08 05:52 PM
See What's On The Slab
2005. The Rocky Horror Picture Show is christened into that time capsule to end all time capsules: the National Film Registry. (Here's hoping the 6-inch concrete bunker's rations include fish net stockings and extra water pistols.)
Virtually any other title on that esteemed list is an infinitely more polished film… and nowhere near the sustained – and admittedly bizarre -- cultural phenomenon.
You know, I was reeeeeally hoping to have glimpsed some smidgeon of that cultural phenomenon on my virgin time through. It was back on a blizzard-blown January midnight showing at the Showboat Twin Cinemas in Mandan, North Dakota. (I shudder to think that those gorgeous theatres became Circus Clown Pizza, but no matter.) From the back row, two fellow high school chums and I gawked quietly at a trio of decked-out attendees prancing around in fright wigs.
That was the entire audience.
But ohhhhh, how life foists upon us second chances. Here's a Henry VIII-size turkey leg of thanks: Chiller's non-stop Rocky Horror Thanksgiving Day Marathon on Thursday, November 27th (10 a.m.- 10 p.m. EST). You bring the rice, newspapers, and Scott toilet paper. We've got Meatloaf.
For those of you not born on this planet – welcome. A silly send-up of horror/sci-fi B-movies with the songs conceived first (and the sticky narrative shows, although the soundtrack is pure dynamite), the RHPS originated onstage to a loyal following at London's Royal Court Theater. Audiences not only patronized, they raucously participated and outlandishly personified. Road shows hit Australia, then Los Angeles where 20th Century Fox – riding a tide of flower child-kissed rock musicals – bankrolled a 1975 film version. Then buried it. RHPS: R.I.P.
… But then…
A dusty print (or two or three) resurfaced on the midnight circuit: art houses, campuses, one-screen theaters. As free-spirited ticket buyers flocked to the stage version, conservative era viewers craving counter-culture streamed steadily to Friday-Saturday late night screenings. For thirty years (and counting). As executive producer Lou Adler put it:"The success of Rocky Horror came out of the failure of Rocky Horror."
Thus began Tim Curry's own personal never-ending Star Trek Convention From Hell. And Curry – in a breakout chew-all-scenery-and-lick-your-lips role devoid of any shred of self-consciousness – truly deserved an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor. That may be considered unfashionable to say – even a stretch by prudes and purists. But charismatic, fully invested work must be recognized regardless of genre or film. And Tim Curry's Dr. Frank-N-Furter isn't just that good. It's a milestone.
Of course, Rocky's cast also includes a certain Academy Award-winning actress by the name of Susan Sarandon in the role of Janet; Tony Award-winner Barry Bostwick (whose patient smile endures while the very onscreen sight of his Brad inspires crowds to yell "a**hole"); and durable character actor Charles Gray, probably best known for his turn as James Bond villain Blofeld in Diamonds Are Forever.
And those who want the upper hand in the next round of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, take note: RHPS was shot by Peter (The Empire Strikes Back) Suschitzky, perhaps best known as David Cronenberg's DP.
Richard ("Riff Raff") O'Brien and director Jim Sharman revisited with the it's-not-really-a-sequel follow-up, Shock Treatment (1981). And, yes, there was a short-lived, lawsuit-slapped attempt to relaunch Mommie Dearest (1981) into the same midnight cult vein – with the tagline "The Biggest Mother of Them All".
But you don't create camp phenomenon. It creates itself. Whether all of the RockyCons (seriously, they exist), official websites and anniversary bashes will carry on into the next generation depends on the approach of new audiences.
Do they merely "view" the movie? That's sort of like stumbling into a drunken college green room with private jokes flying – without benefit of ever having gone to school there. The "plot" involves a square newlywed couple taking shelter at a creepy castle. Said creepy castle is actually hosting its Annual Transylvanian Convention. The story shifts into manic set pieces infusing mad scientists, motorcycle gangs, sexual liberation and homages ranging from King Kong to the Nixon resignation. All of this is stapled together by some truly great songs, and they keep coming. I'm especially partial to the nostalgic angst of "Science Fiction/Double Feature", the bold innuendos of "Sweet Transvestite", and the bittersweet resonance of "Superheroes".
Yet audiences are much better off to "experience" the movie. There's something fraternal about reenacting the pelvic thrusts of "The Time Warp". Or knowing when to lob toast at the screen. Or snapping rubber gloves in sync with hoards of others.
It's the kind of camaraderie you don't rationalize.
Or, ahem, don't revisit too often.
Posted by Mike Kalvoda at 05:52 PM