You'll Laugh, You'll Scream: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (Dir Jim Sharman, 1h45m, 1975)

Horror movie fandom is, in itself, a bit of a cult, a like-minded group of fans worldwide sharing their beloved, often bloodstained, favourites; horror cinema is no stranger to cult series, from the well-known, to the obscure. Before the world wide web, before message boards, before this curious tribe got organised into conventions, celebrations, and fests, there was the Midnight Movie, films from which the horror aficionado, the late night weirdos, and the genuine arthouse freaks, would stumble out from, into the dark streets of major American cities, their cinematic tastes forever gloriously warped.

These range from the well-known, such as Eraserhead, Night of the Living Dead, and Jodorowsky's El Topo and The Holy Mountain, to the profane and bizarre like Ralph Bakshi's Fritz the Cat and John Waters' Pink Flamingos, to the less-renowned of this strange tribe of films, such as black comedy Harold and Maude and landmark Jamaican film The Harder they Fall, which basically introduced dub and reggae to the United States. Atop all of these, perhaps the Midnight Movie to end all Midnight Movies, is The Rocky Horror Picture Show-the cult movie to end all cult movies. 

Once again, the twenty-year cycle hoves into view, to the point that someone in the nostalgia business is likely to set up shop in the next few columns to sell 00s ephemera; nu metal CDs, those chains everyone attached to their wallets, and those jeans that draped everywhere. Yet, Rocky Horror undeniably gets much of its original charm from its subversion of the 1950s as seen from the 1970s: American Graffiti had played it straight, Grease would wave off the decade in irreverent, but faithful fashion in 1978; between them lies Rocky Horror, merrily thumbing their nose to the decade. Rocky Horror Picture Show-like Grease, and many other works of the era, the film began life on stage, as the Rocky Horror Show, and would retain much of its West End cast and crew, aside from the main protagonists of Brad and Janet (Barry Bostwick and Susan Sarandon ), the average American couple.

Following the film's overture, "Science Fiction Double Feature", which wistfully considers the B-Movies of times gone by via a decidedly 50s ballad that feels dangerously close to breaking into a full Bobby Darin or Elvis at his most nostalgic, number, and giving the film its iconic image of a red lipsticked mouth lip-syncing along, we meet Brad and Janet, marooned after the wedding of a friend after their car breaks down. Stumbling across a mansion in the countryside, they are soon confronted by the transvestite mad scientist, Dr Frank N Furter (Tim Curry, in what, astonishingly, is his big screen debut) and his hangers on and staff, Riff Raff (creator and scriptwriter, Richard O Brien), Magenta (Patricia Quinn) and Furter groupie, Columbia (Nell Campbell), the latter three of which who are introduced in the cavorting and typically 1950s rock song "The Time Warp".

Enter, via lift, the undeniable star of the show, Furter. To consider this was Curry's first film role and only his second starring role on stage and screen (the first being the West End iteration of the character), is to marvel at just how much Curry dominates the film. As for the performance, it's honed from the theatrical musical to perfection, a little of the glam rock era of Bowie, the mannered cut glass English accent and sexual ambiguity in particular-O Brien himself would take influence from the fluidity of the key figures in the glam rock movement for Rocky Horror in general, noting: "glam rock allowed me to be myself more". 

Pierre La Roche, who'd designed Bowie's makeup for this era, would briefly work on the film, but be fired for taking several hours to complete makeup for Curry et al each day; Curry would do his own makeup from this point on. Dr Frank-N-Furter, introducing himself via "Sweet Transvestite", a decidedly louche number that matches mad scientist with sexually liberated 70s outsider. Small wonder the costumes,designed by Sue Blane, as a mix of fetish wear, fishnet and 50s throwback, would become influential to the nascent punk movement.

From here, Rocky Horror pulls in two directions at once; the central narrative of Furter's attempts to create a man (the titular Rocky, played by Peter Hinwood) is basically a campified Frankenstein, but creator and creation soon fall out, Rocky falling for Janet, whilst Furter's designs on both of the couple feel at once feel manipulative and seductive. One can read the film's as queer allegory, from the general fluidity of much of the supporting cast of characters, all of whom seem to have, pardon the expression, history with each other, to the slow self discovery of the straight white bread couple of Janet and Brad. The film's cult status, the beginning of its colossal popularity, the start of its curious rituals and audience participation, belongs first and foremost to the queer audiences that first embraced the film. 

The other strand is its unapologetic love for the 1950s; whilst this may certainly come with a healthy side order of kitsch, may well be inspired by the 1970s re-framing of 1950s rock and roll, and may well be best seen in its musical numbers, Rocky Horror loves the 1950s. The film and its songs and its style, particularly down to composer Richard Hartley and cinematographer Peter Suschitzky, later to work on Ken Russell's equally kitsch Listzomania in the same year, permeate the film with homages to 1950s cinema. This is both heard and seen. From the greaser Eddie (played by Meat Loaf) whose song, "Hot Patootie – Bless My Soul" captures the decade's sound best, to the whole film, special effects et al, playing like a particularly cash strapped B-Movie. Complete with cheesy special effects, a plot that seems to take right turns all the way to its dénouement, and a few decidedly knowing references, including the familiar form of the RKO Tower during the finale, so the experience celebrates the decade unapologetically. 

The cult of Rocky Horror endures; the film has, after all, been in some form or another of limited release for four decades straight, packed in the weekly line-up for certain cinemas weekly since the late 1970s. It is also, undeniably, a cinematic rite of passage, a film whose fandom have ritualised, and practically deified what amounts to a charming, if creaky slab of 1970s kitsch, a film that largely amounts to a filmed performance of a musical theatre show spectacularly eclipsed by its own cinematic kid brat brother. 

Yet, Rocky Horror matters in the way that the best, and sometimes the worst films matter, a gleefully subversive mix of 1950s culture, 1970s camp, and an undying sense of a film made for those "weirdos" that still stumble out into the early morning air, having found a new favourite movie, a group of people to share it with, and occasionally, themselves.

Rating: Must See (Personal Recommendation)

The Rocky Horror Picture Show is available via DVD from 20th Century Studios and streaming via Disney+

Next week, to Japan, for the unforgettable, unrepeatable, bizarre, dreamlike and quintessentially cult, House.