At the late-night, double feature ‘Picture Show’

By Grace Bonamico

When I heard the news of Tim Curry’s passing in August, I thought back to October of my senior year of high school, when I first watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I’d heard of it before, of course. How could I not? Even if you’ve never seen the movie, chances are you’ve heard “Time Warp,” seen a picture of Tim Curry in fishnets, or come across some reference to the wonderfully bizarre musical that’s managed to stick around for more than half a century.

That October, a few friends and I decided to have a late-night movie night and finally watch it. I wish I could tell you exactly what I thought when those bright red lips first appeared on the screen, or which scene made me fall in love with the movie, but I don’t remember much of that first viewing. Maybe it’s because it was so long ago, or maybe it’s because we were watching it so late at night. What I do remember is a blur of color, music, and feeling. The costumes, the performances, the plot (well, if you could even call it a plot), and the sheer ridiculousness of everything happening on screen. I couldn’t have told you exactly what I’d just watched, but I knew I loved it.

Released in 1975, just seven years after Hollywood abandoned the Hays Code, The Rocky Horror Picture Show came along at a time when openly queer characters and stories were still relatively uncommon in mainstream American films. This movie didn’t just acknowledge sexuality and gender nonconformity; it embraced them, complete with corsets, high heels, glitter, and plenty of rock and roll. At the center of it all was Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, a character who was outrageous, seductive, selfish, and completely impossible to ignore. Frank wasn’t particularly interested in being respectable, and neither was the movie.

I love Rocky Horror for plenty of reasons. I’m a sucker for a good musical; I love anything that embraces camp, and I’ll certainly never say no to a Susan Sarandon film. But more than anything, I love how it celebrates identity and queerness. That’s something I’ve come to appreciate more as I’ve gotten older and learned more about myself. When I first watched it in high school, I mostly loved the music and how much fun it was. Now, knowing more about the circumstances under which it was made, I appreciate what the film represents as much as the film itself.

To me, Rocky Horror is an important piece of queer history. It came out during a period when LGBTQ+ people faced widespread discrimination, and openly queer representation in popular entertainment was much harder to find. The film certainly wasn’t the first piece of queer media, and it wasn’t without its problems, but it gave audiences something they didn’t often get to see on screen. Its characters explored gender and sexuality without feeling the need to fit into society’s expectations, even if they weren’t always particularly good people.

I also think it’s important to remember that history, particularly now. So much progress has been made in the fifty years since Rocky Horror was released, even if it doesn’t always feel that way. Looking back at films like this helps put that progress in perspective and reminds us how different things were for queer people not that long ago. I don’t think we should expect older queer media to meet every standard we have today, but we should recognize what it meant to the people who first saw it. It’s part of a much larger history that’s worth remembering.

Of course, none of that means Rocky Horror is a perfect film. Its humor can be crude, its characters are often terrible people, and some of its treatment of sexuality and consent hasn’t aged particularly well. But I don’t think loving a movie means pretending it doesn’t have flaws. Part of what makes Rocky Horror so interesting is that it’s very much a product of its time, while still feeling unlike anything else from that era. It doesn’t really care whether you understand what’s happening, and sometimes I think that’s half the fun.

One of my favorite things about Rocky Horror is actually something that gets a little lost in the film adaptation. While the movie presents Brad and Janet’s unfortunate visit to Frank-N-Furter’s castle as something that really happened, the original stage musical takes a slightly different approach. It opens with “Science Fiction/Double Feature,” sung by an usherette who welcomes the audience to the show, almost as though we’re sitting in an old movie theater waiting for a science-fiction double feature to begin. The reprise at the end brings us back to that same idea, reminding us that everything we’ve just watched has essentially been one big B-movie.

I absolutely adore that framing. Both versions are fun in their own ways, but something about the stage show treating the entire story like a cheesy science-fiction movie just clicks for me. It makes the ridiculous plot, exaggerated characters, and theatrical effects feel like part of the joke. Rocky Horror has always been a love letter to the old science-fiction and horror movies that inspired Richard O’Brien, and I think the stage production makes that connection especially clear.

As for the music, I could probably spend an entire article talking about how much I love the soundtrack. Everyone knows “Time Warp” and “Sweet Transvestite,” but my favorite song in the film has always been “Over at the Frankenstein Place.” I love the melody, the atmosphere, and the way it feels almost strangely sincere compared to everything that follows. Brad and Janet stand outside this enormous, mysterious castle in the rain, completely unaware of what they’re about to walk into, and the song makes it all feel oddly magical. It’s a beautiful little moment before everything goes completely off the rails.

Speaking of Brad and Janet, I have to give them some credit because I think they’re sometimes overlooked in favor of Frank-N-Furter and the more outrageous characters. Janet has always been my favorite character, and while I certainly have a soft spot for Susan Sarandon, I also think she’s genuinely wonderful in the role. Janet starts the movie as this rather innocent, conventional young woman who seems perfectly content with the life she’s supposed to have. Watching her gradually become more curious and willing to explore a side of herself she probably never knew existed is one of my favorite parts of the film.

And I can’t talk about Janet without mentioning Brad. Barry Bostwick is such a fantastic comedic actor, and I don’t think he gets nearly enough credit for how funny he is in Rocky Horror. Brad is so painfully uptight and determined to remain respectable, even as everything around him gets increasingly ridiculous, that his reactions alone sometimes make me laugh. Bostwick plays him with just the right amount of seriousness, which makes the comedy work even better.

Of course, you can’t really talk about Rocky Horror without talking about its audience. The film wasn’t particularly successful when it first came out. Still, it eventually found a home at midnight screenings, where people began dressing up, shouting callbacks, and performing alongside the movie. What started as a box-office disappointment became a tradition people have passed down for generations. In many ways, the audience has become just as much a part of Rocky Horror as the film itself.

I’ve never actually been to a midnight screening or a shadow cast performance, although I’d love to someday. I did, however, get to see the movie at a showing hosted by a small local library, and I had an absolutely wonderful time. It wasn’t anything elaborate, just a small, cozy screening, but that was part of what I loved about it. People were laughing, singing along to the songs, and even throwing out a few of the traditional audience callbacks. It was a lot of fun, and there was something really nice about being in a room full of people enjoying the movie just as much as I did.

I think that’s one reason Rocky Horror has lasted as long as it has. It’s become something people share, whether through elaborate midnight performances or a few friends watching it together for the first time. There’s no single right way to enjoy it, and you don’t have to know every callback or show up in costume to feel like you’re part of the fun. I certainly didn’t know much about it when I first watched it, and now, years later, here I am, writing an entire love letter to the thing.

And then there’s Tim Curry.

I’ve always loved Tim Curry in just about everything I’ve ever seen him in, but I don’t think any performance of his is quite like Frank-N-Furter. From the moment he steps out of that elevator, wrapped in a cape before revealing the corset and fishnets underneath, he completely takes over the movie. He’s funny, seductive, cruel, dramatic, and occasionally rather pathetic, sometimes all within the same scene. It’s the kind of performance that could easily have been nothing more than a joke, but Curry commits to every second.

What I love most is that he never seems embarrassed by the character or the material. He plays Frank with so much confidence that you almost forget how ridiculous everything around him is. At the same time, he gives the character just enough vulnerability that you can occasionally see something underneath all the makeup and theatrics. Frank is hardly a good person, and the movie never really asks us to pretend otherwise, but Curry makes him fascinating to watch.

After hearing about Curry’s passing, I found myself looking at Rocky Horror a little differently. I’d always thought of it as a fun movie, something I could put on when I wanted to enjoy the music and laugh at the absurdity of it all. But revisiting it knowing Curry was gone made certain moments hit much harder than before. By the time Frank began singing “I’m Going Home,” I was nearly in tears.

It’s always been one of the film’s more emotional moments, but I don’t think I’d ever really appreciated just how sad it is. For most of the movie, Frank behaves as though he’s the most important person in the universe, completely unconcerned with anyone else’s feelings. Then, almost out of nowhere, we see him at his most vulnerable, singing about wanting to return somewhere he belongs. Curry’s performance is genuinely heartbreaking, and knowing that he’s gone made it difficult not to think about the person behind the character and how much his work has meant to so many people.

It’s hard to imagine Rocky Horror without him. Plenty of actors have played Frank-N-Furter over the years, and I’m sure plenty more will. Still, Curry’s performance is so closely tied to the character that it’s practically impossible to separate the two. Even people who have never seen the movie recognize the image of him in that corset and those heels. It’s an incredible legacy for an actor to leave behind, especially considering how strange and unconventional the role must have seemed when he first took it on.

More than fifty years after its release, The Rocky Horror Picture Show is still finding new audiences. People are still learning the songs, putting together costumes, attending screenings, and introducing it to friends for the first time. I love the thought that somewhere, someone is probably sitting down to watch it with no idea what they’re getting themselves into, just like I did that October night in high school. Maybe they’ll remember every detail, or maybe they’ll come away with nothing more than a blur of music and color, the same way I did.

I couldn’t have imagined back then that this bizarre little musical from 1975 would become something I’d return to again and again. When I first watched it, I didn’t know much about its history or understand just how important it had been to so many people. As I’ve gotten older, that’s become one of the things I value most about it. I can appreciate it as a wonderfully entertaining movie while also recognizing its place in queer history and the generations of people who have found something meaningful in it.

I may not remember much about the first time I watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but I remember how it made me feel. It’s a movie I’ve grown up with, in a way, one I appreciate differently now than I did at seventeen, and one I imagine I’ll keep returning to for years to come. I love that something so silly and over-the-top can also carry so much history and mean so much to so many people, myself included.

As Frank-N-Furter would say, “Don’t dream it. Be it.”