What happens when you mix a good movie with a cackling crowd of hecklers and add a mixture of stage show performed by people obsessed with an underwear catalog? Well, go ask Mr. Owl, because the world will never know. See, it's a trick question, because The Rocky Horror Picture Show is one of those movies that straddle the line between collective ignorance and complete insanity. When you sprinkle in audience participation, the result is a bad movie with numerous people shouting random nonsense in Spanish while bathing themselves in squirt gun water. It's exactly like the subway at night.
It was ten o'clock, zero hour if you will, and the crowd sat with anticipation for the show. It was a Friday, but see that doesn't matter. How and why I came to this place, I did not know. They had free popcorn and soda though so I stayed. I am so weak. After an hour of complete silence the movie was about to begin, all that was left was the pre-movie warm up. Fourteen hours of rules and regulation stifled my enthusiasm. However, I remained vigilant in my pursuit of chronicling the worst movies ever viewed by human eyes.
Here's where it gets a little strange. As the movie play itself out, various participants act the parts out in real time. A great wave of sadness covered me. Could I have been wrong about the film? Maybe in my attempt to spread humor through the world I had forgotten how great it feels to love a movie. I needed a priest, for I was filled with the realization that in the course of writing this column, I had become the very thing I feared most in the world. As the wave of ignorance disappeared, I realized that I could not feel my legs. Glorious sunrise I was crippled. No wait, I was a pinpoint of light circulating around the stratosphere crying for the truths that had been lost to me so long ago. I wanted to believe. I wanted Share Bear to have tea with Santa Claus while I sat in the background playing Stairway to Heaven naked. Then my focus returned to the movie and the child within me died. The movie stunk, but the live show was excellent. It was a paradox of lace panties and Tim Curry. At that moment, I learned God was dead. For a loving God would not grant such a beautiful live show to a horrible movie. The Rocky Horror Picture Show killed my inner child.
The movie itself is simple enough to explain. All Brad ever wanted to do was sleep with Janet. Unfortunately, Brad takes the wrong turn down the wrong road and ends up crashing his Pinto into the worst looking rain storm ever committed to film. His tire blown out and his chances of sleeping with another human decreasing, Brad takes Janet to a house filled with aliens. Well, he doesn't know they're aliens, see that's the twist. The proprietor of the mansion, Frank decides to unveil his latest creation to his new found guest. Using his advance technology, Frank has animated Ken. When this newly freed action figure decides to sleep with Janet, Brad descends into a realm of madness. Well, actually he sleeps with Frank, same thing. Apparently aliens hate cloning and Frank dies, but not before getting some from everyone. The important lesson is if you have to die, make sure you die after the pool orgy.
Your Moments of Live Action Insanity
Rub that chin. Rub that chin.
Your Movie Moment Of InsanityI ask for nothing!
If You're In the Crowd You Should Look Out For:
The experience reminds me of:
A three dimensional movie repeatedly crammed into my eyes by a crowd of people suffering from Tourette Syndrome dressed like the contents of every wet dream conceived by Charles Manson. Now rinse.
Did You Know:
At the end of the show, numerous people sprinted towards their cars. I wanted to join them in their running fun, but Tina would allow no such activity. Running is cool and I spit in the face of anyone who isn't cool. Now give me an apple and a mirror.
Movies AND A Stage Show, Sign me Up For These Babies:
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