Monday, September 22, 1997 Time hasn’t warped ‘Rocky Horror’
TRADITION: Movie still thrives on cult following, draws nostalgic
crowds
By Cheryl Klein
Daily Bruin Senior Staff
The "Rocky Horror Picture Show" is a little like a time warp.
And this goes beyond the movie’s most famous dance. The "Rocky"
phenomenon has been called a cult and an addiction, but in a lot of
ways, it’s like traveling back in time to high school.
This could be because much of the crowd that gathers outside the
Nuart Theater on Santa Monica Boulevard every Saturday at midnight
is hardly old enough to drive. But the 1975 movie and accompanying
stage show is also a salute to what made high school fun – the
loudness, the sex jokes, the rebellion and the discovery that
cheesiness can be darn entertaining.
Of course, when you’re 21, the enthusiasm begins to wane. Just
look at Bill Walter, a history student at UC Santa Cruz, who’s
attended "Rocky’ for seven years. Now he approaches the show with
the same mixed emotions that you might when visiting your alma
mater.
"I’m really miserable most of the time I’m here. I just know so
many people that I eventually come back for something or other,"
Walter admits. Somehow, he is simultaneously annoyed and nostalgic.
"I just sit around and grumble and say, ‘I hate this place. I wish
I wasn’t here.’ And I just read the Weekly or any other newspaper
and I sit outside and smoke a lot."
And there Walter sits, in the Nuart’s pink lobby, looking
comparatively low key in black pants and a T-shirt. His hair is
short and his expression is bored. But ask him about his days as a
cast member and his eyes light up.
Traditions thrive at "Rocky Horror," including the pre-show
striptease. The stripper at the Nuart (who, by the way, doesn’t go
the "full monty") appears to be female, but Walter used to fill the
same roll at a theater in Northridge.
"I was 16 at the time and I was Super Punk Rock Man," Walter
recalls. "But I had to buy lingerie so I could do the striptease.
My sister was on the other side of the store and I hold up this
lingerie and I go, ‘Hey Melanie, what do you think? Is this going
to go good with me?’ You know, big green mohawk in a Pic ‘n’ Save
in Burbank – everyone’s looking at me like ‘Oh my god, what kind of
freak is this?’"
The "Rocky" entourage seem to be freaks of the best kind. Sure,
black lipstick, cheap lingerie and Dracula capes abound, but fans
and cast alike are for the most part mellow, friendly and fiercely
proud of their own freakiness.
"We don’t really care for normal society," says co-cast director
Marilynn Hendrie. But what first attracted her to the show was its
promotion of tolerance and the Nuart is not about to be
hypocritical. "Sometimes people just aren’t ready for it. And
that’s okay. We have a policy here at the Nuart – if you can’t take
the first 10 minutes, you get your money back."
Actually, the first 10 minutes may be the worst of it, and even
then, it’s not that bad. "Rocky virgins" (new attendees) have to
line up on stage where they’re smothered by cast members yelling
"Group fuck! Group fuck!" But it’s more like 20 seconds of your
basic mosh pit.
Things do get a little embarrassing for the four "virgins" the
cast selects from the original group. Two girls hold an apple at
crotch level while two blindfolded boys eat it. Suggestive, yes,
but harmless and with lots of giggle potential.
Then the lights dim and people stop throwing tortillas (don’t
ask). The movie starts and we watch a young Susan Sarandon and a
camped-up Tim Curry sing and dance their way through the B movie of
all B movies. The real show, though, is in front of the screen,
where the audience counters the characters’ lines with some pretty
juvenile – and very clever – one-liners of their own.
At one point, lightening strikes on screen. Two guys run up on
stage and pretend to be struck down. Someone holds up a sign
declaring "God – 1. People – 0." The tally continues throughout the
dark and stormy night.
But while the movie and its cult following have been around
since the ’70s, the audience dialogue lives in the now.
"There’s a scene where there’s a crash and two guys fall in the
pool. (The audience) started yelling, ‘Thanks for flying Value
Jet!’" Hendrie says. "It was so rude. Sometimes they’re so
tasteless, and yet, there’s not another forum for that."
No, there’s nothing quite like "Rocky Horror" and there’s
nothing quite like the L.A. cast of "Rocky Horror." Riverside,
Northridge, Long Beach and the South Bay all boast their own casts,
but, Hendrie says, "This is L.A. The Nuart is famous, and our cast
has made the Nuart more famous."
Hendrie attributes this to the interaction between cast and
audience more than, well, talent.
"Sometimes they can’t act their way out of a paper bag," Hendrie
says. "But that’s okay because character sometimes is a substitute
for actual acting talent."
So do they have structured rehearsals to help tighten up the
repertoire? Do they have rehearsals period?
"We should. You’d think, huh?" Hendrie muses. "This is community
theater. It’s not a paying gig, so sometimes people just don’t show
up."
But, hey, no big deal. Part of "Rocky’s" greatness is its
badness. And another crucial component is of course the social
scene.
"It’s like church," Hendrie says. But while some do follow it
religiously, very few church outings consist of playing a game
called "Fowl Water" at Denny’s in the wee hours of the morning. For
Walter, though, this is all part of the cast and audience’s
post-"Rocky" fun.
He recounts the ritual, probably familiar to anyone who’s eaten
in a school cafeteria – pass a glass of water around the table,
everyone adds some chunk of food nastier than the last.
"This guy named Carl said, ‘Hey, I’ll give you 10 bucks if you
drink the whole thing.’ And I could really use 10 bucks, so I said,
‘Hey, great idea,’" Walter says. He took one sip. "I just puked on
the table."
FILM: The "Rocky Horror Picture Show" plays Saturdays at
midnight at the Nuart Theater, 11272 Santa Monica Blvd., W. Los
Angeles. Tickets are $7. For more info, call 478-6379.