Last night we joined our friends Maryann and Dee for a jaunt to The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Palace theater (and first stopped by the Pump Station -- yum!). I don't know how many years it has been since I last saw it -- hate to count 'em. It may have been back at the NuArt in L.A. (which would make it a very long time indeed -- watching it on video in CT doesn't count [I still love that John Waters "No Smoking"reel!]).
It's still a hoot. They played a contemporary trailer, a trailer for the Star Trek arcade game (wow), another for 2001 (an upcoming film in the Certified Angus Beef movie series) and even a Warner Bros. cartoon! And I only saw one of my students (who said, "Hello, Dr. Laity" as she ducked away).
It all comes back -- the lines to shout, the things to throw (though we hadn't armed ourselves), and admittedly the timing was a bit off once in a while. Gene knew more fill-in lines than I did and I heard a lot of people guffawing as he shouted them out.
Not everyone enjoyed the film: about fifteen minutes in, a group of half a dozen rather elderly folks got up and left. At first we thought it was going to be a performance, but no. They were just leaving. What did they think it was? Just a scary film?
It's really quite an amazing phenomenon. I still remember the elation I felt after Emfinger took me to my first viewing. When I went to England on my first visit after freshman year, I made sure that one of the plays I saw was The Rocky Horror Picture Show, even though it was not quite the same thing on stage. Last night all I could think of was a little Eddie Izzard watching the film and saying, "yes, I can."
Don't dream it, be it.