THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW
Ditto Frank-n-Furter.
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Granted, he’s not quite the chronicle of Roman virtues that Antony was. But he’s no slouch either, having led an expedition all the way from his home planet of Transylvania to earth, where he engages in scientific investigations of the most sophisticated sort. Unfortunately, his investigations have gone a little haywire lately, and Furter’s generalship, like Antony’s, has been clouded by a tendency to overindulge himself.
He tries. He comes close now and then. But he doesn’t succeed. Sticklin’s slutty vamp is energetic, endearing, and very pretty–but finally unconvincing. He never musters the aura of abdicated command that makes Furter’s frolics interesting and provides the rationale for his undoing.
Yeah, it’s fun to do the Time Warp again. This Rocky, together with Michael Butler’s Hair, signals the opening of a whole new frontier in the merchandising of le temps perdu: nostalgia for pleasure. Criminal though he is, Furter can look an awful lot like a fond memory in the era of AIDS and Ed Meese and $10,000 fines for that roach that fell between the sofa cushions sometime back during the Carter administration. You’re never gonna experience my kind again, he tells us. So settle back in your seat and stock up with your eyes.
