Rocky Horror Show a fresh spin on a ’70s classic

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 24/10/2015 (3976 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

When The Rocky Horror Picture Show, the 1975 film adaptation of Richard O’Brien’s 1973 stage musical, started its heavy rotation on the midnight movie circuit in the late ’70s and through the ’80s, audiences couldn’t help but be swept up by its transgressive power. It turned hackneyed drive-in movie plot — two wholesome young people get lost, find themselves in the presence of a homicidal mad scientist in a Gothic castle — into a sexually-charged goulash of sci-fi, seduction, and infectious tunes.

Against that backdrop, the movie boldly favoured all manner of sexual experimentation (“Give yourself over to absolute pleasure”) while simultaneously facilitating a party during the actual screening wherein the audience was encouraged to interact with the action on the screen.

If one was overcome with a growing fatigue as the movie progressed, it might have been attributed to the late-hour screenings coupled with the typically marijuana-infused air in whatever repertory cinema it was screening. It may have only dawned later (as it did with me), the film’s second half can be a brutal slog, wrapping up the increasingly outlandish proceedings with no less than three dirge-paced songs. Also, there was good reason people would shout “Boring!” when Charles Gray’s stodgy narrator slow-w-wly delivered the quite unnecessary exposition.

But all that makes only the original show worthy of revival, given the opportunity to inject a little adrenaline into that second act. Winnipeg’s own Wastelands Productions, the folks who gave us last year’s Halloween-themed Evil Dead: The Musical offer a fresh stage version of Rocky that has a few things going for it, not the least of which is its venue. The Park Theatre on Osborne is an authentic repertory cinema and has precisely the right party-conducive vibe, recalling the time when audience members donned kinky costumed and participated in the action, as many did at Friday night’s show.

With a cast of 12 actors on stage, accompanied by a six-piece live band, not a lot of resources were left for set design which has a makeshift look to it, especially given an artlessly draped plain white sheet that serves as a centrepiece for much of the show. That only bestows a certain ramshackle charm: It feels like a small-town community theatre production, and given the subject matter, that DIY aesthetic delivers its own subversive kick.

It runs two hours with intermission, during which a few performers impress. Improv specialist Alan Mackenzie deftly removes the tedium from the narrator role with some snarky exchanges with anyone who dares to call him “boring.” (“It must have been a long drive here from Transcona.”)

In the pivotal role of that “sweet transvestite” Frank N. Furter, Dan De Jaeger would have had an impossible task duplicating Tim Curry’s defining performance, and he doesn’t try. He relies on the power of his formidable singing voice to see him through with a minimum of affectation.

That is not to say he plays it straight.

In the roles of the square, sexually susceptible Brad and Janet, David Fox and Mallory James are a wholesome twosome at ease with the requirements of performing much of their roles in era-appropriate undergarments.

The anti-Brad and Janet – Frank’s dissolute minions Riff Raff and Magenta – are played with a toned-down decadence by Erik Fjeldsted and Elizabeth Whitbread. Teela Tomassetti gamely takes the role of Columbia – imagine a reprobate Ruby Keeler – with admitted limited tap-dancing skills, but some cheeky charm. As the titular man-made man, Adam Jackson Hurtig evidently put a little more work on his ripped physique than his singing, but he does deliver a certain goofy innocence to the role. Ryan Ash takes on two very diverse roles as the rebel punk Eddie and the authoritative, wheelchair-bound Dr. Scott and is more convincing in the latter role than the former.

Director Rory Fallis tones down the scary aggression of Team Frank N. Furter from the film, possibly because the GBLT world they represent just isn’t as scary to mainstream audiences as they were in 1975. Or maybe it’s because he realizes Frank N. Furter — not Brad nor Janet — is the play’s true protagonist, a doomed romantic hero whose impossible love was never meant to be.

randall.king@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @FreepKing