For those of us in the mid-curve of the Baby Boom generation, this show needs no introduction. The Rocky Horror Show is an indelible image in our past. Rocky, viewed two decades ago by high school and college students in movie theaters across the country, was our first taste of the erotically absurd. Although few of us would admit it, most of us could identify with Brad Majors, the nerdy hero, and his squeaky clean fiance, Janet Weiss. We hadn't met -- much less become -- the bizarre creatures they encounter on one cold and stormy night. For those intimately familiar with this campy cult classic, the question is: Does the Broadway version disappoint? Thankfully, it does not. Although there's nothing within The Rocky Horror Show to overtax your brain cells, it has more FUN than the rest of Broadway combined. Where else can you hurl toilet paper and confetti at the actors, do a few steps of the "Time Warp" and sing along with the cast? Rocky truly takes us back in time, and it's a journey that few will be able to resist. The stage version faithfully follows the movie -- in fact, it's a show-within-a-show that pays tribute to the film version. Brad and Janet are first seen in a black-and-white film projected onstage. Magically, they step off the screen and begin telling the well-known story.
More than 25 years after the film's release, the story still has its sophomoric charm. As Dr. Frank N. Furter, the "transsexual transvestite from Transylvania," Tom Hewitt shimmers and struts with delicious ambiguity. He does not erase the memory of the film's Tim Curry, but he does not have to. Every inch of Hewitt (and indeed, we see nearly that much) is of Broadway star caliber. He is a bleached-blond Valley Girl whose unrestrained libido causes all sorts of comic mishap. His henchmen are well cast, particularly rocker Joan Jett as Columbia, and young Broadway up-and-comers Ra·l Esparza as Riff Raff and Daphne Rubin-Vega as his incestuous sister, Magenta. In a particularly interesting casting twist, Lea DeLaria is a cross-gendered version of Eddie, the charismatic motorcycle leader (memorably played by Meatloaf in the film). DeLaria rocks and rolls with the best of them, nearly stopping the show with her rendition of "Hot Patootie." At the top of Act II, Alice Ripley adds a deliciously erotic touch to "Touch-A-Touch-A-Touch Me." This number, basically a throwaway in the film, becomes an opportunity to add something risque for modern audiences. The object of her passion is the manufactured creation called Rocky. Sabastian LaCause is physically perfect and very funny as this dim-witted boy-toy.
Most of all, the production has been lucky to lure Dick Cavett out of retirement. Although out of the national TV limelight for a number of years, Cavett hasn't lost his snap. His dry humor is an excellent contrast to all the unrestrained lunacy onstage. Dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, Cavett, the Narrator, is a visual relief from the rest of the cast, where spandex and leather attire, accessorized by nipple chains, handcuffs and six-inch platform heels, rein supreme. The set, costumes, lighting and choreography all work together to support director Christopher Ashley's vision.
For all the years it has been rocking and shocking audiences, Rocky is still good fun. Aside from some brief nudity and off-color remarks, it's still closer to a PG-13 than an R rating.
