Whenever I read the words “The Rocky Horror Show”, I am swept into a time warp back to the fan screening I attended in 2005. Most of the audience for that screening rocked up fully equipped with suspenders, feather boas, extravagant lipstick, and a cherished selection of deliberately unfunny heckler’s lines to deploy at key moments in the movie.
Have you not seen the Rocky Horror Show? It’s a wildly camp musical and B-movie homage for stage and screen, in which two homely, heteronormative Americans seek shelter in a castle run by Tim Curry’s high-kicking mad scientist Dr Frank-N-Furter. I can’t speak for how well it has aged, but it was a hit work of sexual counterculture in the 1970s, and is absolutely Curry’s finest hour outside of Command And Conquer.
