The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Oh, Tim, Tim, Tim.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show plays like a combination of rock opera, The Honeymooners, Frankenstein, and a gay cruise. If I could rate its quality on the number of times I blurted, “WHAT?!”, it would be the best film ever made. Sadly, once you get over the initial shock of the film’s extreme audacity, you realize that there’s not much to it. At least not enough to sustain its running time with such a slimly plotted premise. I think that’s because the entire point of the movie is to shock you—to make your eyes wide and your jaw hang in bewilderment. Once you understand that that’s all there is to the movie, its imagination seems limited and it quickly runs out of steam.

To be fair, the film succeeds in its purpose for the most part. How can it not, when it features the now famous images of Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N- Furter, singing his song about being a transvestite, transsexual alien, dressed in high heels, lipstick and leotard? I’ll admit, there is something sort of brilliant in the film’s audacity, and Curry’s performance—and his entrance—remain the best thing about the picture.

But we are forced to question, how far is too far? Is there a point when startling images cease to become provocative and engaging and just become—well, startling? Is there a point when outrageousness is no longer stimulating and it is simply outrageous? The little-known sequel to The Rocky Horror Picture Show is called Shock Treatment; it is unseen by me, but I think that its title would have been quite appropriate for its predecessor. Here is a film that is so determined to shake your senses with bizarre characters, psychedelic music, off-colored sexism, and downright raunchiness that it eventually plays dirty by trying to convince its audience that such shocks and bizarreness are enough to sustain the whole movie. For the running time, its images and ideas are so uniquely strange that it almost works; however, in the end, we realize that all along there has been no point, and the movie has been cheating from scene one. What’s the point of creating these interesting ideas if there is no point to them but the utter pointlessness of it all? If I am going to be shocked, I want it to mean something—to have some sort of payoff. The Rocky Horror Picture Show is just being weird for the sake of being weird, and our senses are therefore needlessly assaulted.

If, despite my objections, you’re one of those people who relish in being weirded-out, take my advice: There are more reasonable cinematic alternatives for those who want to be shocked by bizarre subject matter. I recently watched a 2001-made film called Hedwig and the Angry Inch, a musical about a—gasp— transvestite/transsexual who has a band of similar misfits. It is just as strange as The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the characters dress in just as much leotard and lipstick. It has developed a similar cult following due to midnight showings and is currently on its way to sharing the same destiny as Rocky Horror. Unlike Rocky Horror, Hedwig is provocative beyond its weirdness—it is sincere, intelligent, and has a lot of positive things to say about self-realization. In other words, its weirdness has a payoff, and instead of beating us over the head, it eventually feeds our brain. And the musical numbers are even catchier!

I could be wrong. I guess that The Rocky Horror Picture Show is somebody’s idea of a good time, as it is impossible to discuss it without mentioning the phenomenon that it inspired as a midnight show: All the people who lived seemingly normal lives until Saturday night, when they came dressed as their favorite characters, singing and dancing in the theater isles as the movie played above their heads. Such a phenomenon seems reserved for cult-classics with truly enduring legacies like Star Wars or, by now, The Lord of the Rings. Watching Rocky Horror apart from its hype, I am forced to wonder what the big deal was. I suppose that in the 1970s, people would rather have had their minds assaulted with a movie than with other, more deadly substances, so I guess that it was a good alternative. That, and perhaps Curry’s entrance was so undeniably fun that no one noticed that the rest of the movie never lives up to it.

Cast:
Tim Curry: Dr. Frank-N- Furter
Susan Sarandon: Janet
Barry Bostwick: Brad
Richard O'Brien: Riff Raff
Peter Hinwood: Rocky Horror
Meatloaf: Eddie

A 20th Century Fox film. Directed by Jim Sharman. Written by Sharman and Richard O'Brien, from the play by O'Brien. Rated R, for a whole lot of free love. Running time: 100 minutes. Original United States theatrical release date: September 26, 1975.