Writer Richard O’Brien had created something rare from the start—a sort of rock ‘n’ roll, sexual revolutionary, horror-filled, B movie tribute. The Rocky Horror Show shook the dust from the Royal Court’s Theatre Upstairs in London in 1973. The intimate space contained only 60 seats and housed the kind of ambiance that is sought in today’s trendy coffeehouses. Soon after, the production moved to a converted movie house, which visually supported the framework of Magenta’s opening song, Science Fiction (a tribute to old movies). As word-of-mouth continued to sell the show, curious audiences filled the nearly 500 seats of the King’s Road Theatre, Rocky’s third home. By year’s end, The London Evening Standard pronounced The Rocky Horror Show “Best Musical,” grabbing the attention of American producer Lou Adler (owner of Ode Records and the Roxy Theatre in LA).  Rocky Horror was on its way to America.

The American premiere in LA had a successful run, prompting an East Coast production.  The opening at New York’s Belasco Theatre, however, launched riotous remarks from critics: “a mindless spoof,” “raunchy pastiche,” “campy trash.” One critic even said: “If you love The Sound of Music you will probably hate it.” Critics’ reactions caught the attention of  Gordon Stulberg, head of Twentieth Century Fox, who saw potential in the “raunchy” and “campy” story. Along with Lou Adler, Stulberg saw an opportunity to make the leap from stage to screen. The framework for a screenplay was already evident in the script—the opening number croons the praises of old horror and sci-fi movies, special effects from the not-so-distant films of the ‘60s and larger than life characters representing everything we had grown to know (a mad scientist, the “Adonis” he creates, ghoulish servants, and a doomed, innocent couple). 

In 1975 The Rocky Horror Picture Show opened at United Artists in Westwood, California.  The box office watched with skeptical but curious eyes as small but enthusiastic audiences came back for repeat screenings. These “Rocky regulars” soon developed a social standard for dress and behavior, creating a sort of initiation into the world of the show (both stage and screen shows). Midnight performances became the trend and audiences turned out dressed as their favorite characters, ready to “perform” with the cast. Fan clubs formed across the nation and basic knowledge of the show—its songs, dances and dialogue—became a rite of passage into the world of “Camp,” the same world that had so recently been criticized.

The very notion of “Camp,” first explored by critic Susan Sontag in 1964, has, to a large extent, explained the unpredictable success of Rocky Horror (both the stage and film version). Camp is the vision of the world in terms of style—through artifice, exaggeration and symbols of a bygone era.  According to Sontag, Camp is the “spirit of extravagance—a woman walking around in a dress of a million feathers” (or Tim Curry strutting around in fishnets and leather). Camp is also all that we jeer or dismiss—Fay Wray and King Kong, Flash Gordon, Triffids, Charles Atlas, the world of ‘40s horror movies and ‘60s science fiction—the very things that equally intrigue us.

Now that intrigue, that phenomena of Rocky Horror, can be found at the Hippodrome in the original stage version that began in London 25 years ago. Enter the world of the old movie house, where the cool, dark home of faded decadence, lust and adventure takes center stage. Take a walk on the wild side and do the Time Warp again!