What a time it is to celebrate The Rocky Horror Picture Show’s 50th anniversary, huh? I’m usually loath to ever call a film “impossible to make now;” this is one of the first films I’d think of as fitting in that category. It’s a relatively plotless, balls-to-the-wall musical extravaganza celebrating letting go of societal expectations and inhibitions. All of that is why I adore The Rocky Horror Picture Show, even though I must admit that it shows its age half a century later.

Yet, despite this, the film’s messaging to revel in pleasure–whatever that means for the viewer–and its impact on queer viewers across generations makes the film something worth revisiting year after year.

Rocky Horror, in specific, takes potshots at conservative attitudes towards sex, gender roles, and expressing individuality in ways society would otherwise frown upon. Tim Curry’s work as Frank’n’Furter is often referenced as the epitome of sexual and gender fluidity in the film, for better or for worse. I highly recommend reading both the excerpt in the book Corpses, Fools, and Monsters and Chris Straayer’s article for more in-depth analysis on the function of Frank’n’Furter in reference to transsexuality and gender fluidity. But really, everyone’s playing with sexuality and gender in this movie. 

It’s for these reasons that it’s a miracle that The Rocky Horror Picture Show has managed to stay in the zeitgeist for this long. It’s even more impressive considering. While the original stage version, also written and directed by Richard O’Brien and Jim Sharman, respectively, had successful runs in London, New York City, and Los Angeles’ independent theatre scenes in 1973 and 1974, the same campy nonsense did not enrapture audiences or critics upon wide release in 1975. However, Rocky Horror quickly found a second wind as a “midnight movie,” which, starting with El Topo’s (1970) theatrical run five years prior, matched the rising desires for countercultural cinema, matching the unrest felt by the youth during the decade. 

There’s just too much to love about the film: Curry’s iconic turn as Dr. Frank’n’Furter, the breakout performance from Susan Sarandon, and the surprise cameo of the bat out of hell himself, Meat Loaf (admittedly, that one might be a little more of a me thing).  Janet’s (Sarandon) whole character arc is that she has carnal desires that her suburban good-boy fiance, Brad (Barry Bostwick), does not fulfill. Brad himself also seems to be enjoying his corset and heels for “Rose Tint My World” quite a bit. The whole cast gets to play around with debauchery in one giant middle finger to the conservative values and systems that led to the general anger of the 1970s. 

While the sex, drugs, and showtunes are certainly the more iconic setpieces of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, it’s just as much a love letter to classic B-movie fare. Both Sharman and O’Brien noted a love for horror and sci-fi films of the early Classic Hollywood era; O’Brien himself specifically noted that he wanted to combine his love for old Hollywood sci-fi with the liberation he felt from the then-novel glam rock boom. As Dr. Frank’n’Furter’s name implies, there’s a fair amount of inspiration from Frankenstein thrown in the film: the titular Rocky (Peter Hinwood) is an ego project first and foremost, proving that Frank’n’Furter can play God. 

But that’s not the only classic genre film referenced–it’s not even the only classic Universal genre film referenced. Faye Wray and 1933’s King Kong get some love, as does 1931’s Dracula–albeit loosely through references to the alien planet of Transylvania–and the R.K.O. radio tower is the literal centerpiece of the film’s last act. As much as this film appeals to a certain subset of musical theatre freaks (and I say that lovingly, for I am one of them), it is just as much a love letter to a bygone era of earnestly cheesy genre films.

Now, The Rocky Horror Picture Show serves as the poster child of the now-derelict era of midnight movies, kept alive by the continued tradition of midnight showings complete with raunchy sing-alongs and chants, intricate prop usage, and Virgin Games, which are essentially Greek Life rituals for glam rock theatre kids. I’m lucky to say that I went to quite a few of these midnight showings at a now-closed hole-in-the-wall venue in my old college town. There are no surviving images, but I went to my first in the most half-assed Magenta (Patricia Quinn) costume imaginable and went through the Virgin Games. I came prepped with the chants for “Damnit Janet” and the choreography for “Time Warp,” mostly from watching the film prior with my mom, who is also a big fan. 

Honestly, I’m inclined to say these viewing experiences are why my love for this film is cemented, even though I haven’t been to a live showing in a few years. Like any part of community bonding, the memories of experiencing this film with dozens of other queer people add a special tinge to any subsequent watches. The central message of “be yourself and enjoy the pleasures of life” obviously has universal applications, but it hit particularly hard in the wake of the immediate post-Stonewall era of the queer liberation movement. It’s also messaging that still rings true half a decade later when conservative values are back on the rise and the exact same pot shots Rocky Horror was taking are… even more applicable. And yet, once “Science Fiction, Double Feature” starts playing, it feels like a reminder that being a freak is a badge of honor.

Although it may have failed upon release, the second wind The Rocky Horror Picture Show received continues to blow half a century later. Long live the Time Warp.

Retrospective Courtesy of Red Broadwell

Feature Image from The Academy Museum; Credit to 20th Century Fox