How A Sci-Fi Cult Classic Inspired The Defining Midnight Cinematic Tradition
There's no better argument for the cinematic experience than this queer musical romp.
Unlike many other cinephiles, I’m not a zealot about the theatrical experience. Yes, IMAX showings are impressive, but they’re not exactly accessible, and I had a much better time watching Sinners on HBO Max than I did at my small-town theater. Going to the theater is nice, especially if you care about Tom Cruise’s mission to save the movies, but it’s not the be-all and end-all. My stance has always been that as long as you pay attention, there’s no wrong way to watch a movie.
But there’s one exception to my rule: a creepy sci-fi flop that, on its own, is a mediocre campy comedy. But in the half-century since it came out, it has become the cult classic to end cult classics, and a safe space for all the outcasts to gather at midnight.
The Rocky Horror Picture Show began as the stage musical brainchild of Richard O’Brien. It quickly found an audience from musical theatre fans, and it wasn’t long before a theatrical adaptation was greenlit, directed by Jim Sharman, who directed the original stage show.
Despite a cast boasting names like Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon, and Meat Loaf, The Rocky Horror Picture Show is not a good movie. The plot is barely there, the humor is cloying, and it hasn’t exactly aged particularly well. The movie follows Brad (Barry Bostwick) and Janet (Sarandon), as they get lost on a road trip and turn to a strange castle for help. It’s there that they discover Dr. Frank-N-Furter (Curry), a self-proclaimed “sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania.”
Brad and Janet get led into a gender-ambivalent sci-fi farcical comedy in The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Over the 100-minute runtime, Brad and Janet are introduced to Rocky, Frank-N-Furter’s Frankenstein-like creation, are both seduced by the doctor, and get wrapped up in an intergalactic invasion. Also, Meat Loaf rides a motorcycle, sings a song, and is promptly murdered.
But you don’t watch Rocky Horror for the plot. Even though it was ignored when it was first released, it eventually found an audience of ironic viewers. Now, it’s the longest-running theatrical release in film history, as it’s still technically in limited release all over the world. Even when Disney purchased 20th Century Fox, Rocky Horror became the lone movie still available for repertory screenings.
Attending a Rocky Horror showing nowadays is a true experience: if it’s your first time, you get marked a “virgin” with a V on your forehead in makeup, there are countless people dressed up, and many people are toting props to throw during key scenes, like rice during the wedding or slices of toast during a toast.
Most showings employ a “shadow cast”: performers in front of the screen, lipsyncing and acting out the entire film. But the true performance comes from the audience: over the decades, fans have developed “call lines” that bring the dialogue to life by adding in jokes. For example, when henchman Riff-Raff (O’Brien) answers the door, the audience yells, “What do you call satanic Jello?” right before he says “...Hello.”
Shadow casts of Rocky Horror still draw crowds decades later.
It’s definitely a movie best watched in a theater surrounded by Rocky Horror veterans, but if there’s no showing near you, don’t worry. You can always gather your friends, consult a list of call lines, and try it for yourself.
Rocky Horror may have begun as a niche escape for the LGBTQ+ community to be unabashedly campy, queer, and raunchy, but now it’s a cinematic institution that’s more fun than any IMAX presentation and more immersive than Twisters in 4DX. Even if the movie-going experience dies out, Rocky Horror will live on, like a cockroach covered in glitter and lipstick.
