My 40-plus-year history with Richard O’Brien’s Rocky Horror—both the midnight movie craze and the original stage incarnation that inspired it—made me shiver with anxious anticipation as I walked into Roundabout Theatre Company's current Broadway revival. Talk about a time warp.
Writer-performer O’Brien debuted the musical—a sexy sendup of horror B-movies—in London in 1973, but like many on this side of the pond, I was introduced to this world via the 1975 film adaptation, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” I was 13 when the boy I had a crush on took me to the 8th Street Playhouse to see it for the first time. Shocking no one but me, that boy turned out to be gay and a few years later we ended up losing our virginity to the same man. The cult of Rocky Horror and the sexual freedom and fluidity it celebrated transformed our lives at a time when the AIDS epidemic and a president preaching conservative family values threatened our very existence.
For a while, I saw the movie every weekend. Host Sal Piro and the spot-on shadowcast put on quite the outrageous live show to augment the gleefully schlocky tale of sweet transvestite-cum-alien-mad scientist Frank-N-Furter (androgynous idol Tim Curry) seducing engaged cis-heterosexual squares, Brad and Janet. I loved the callouts, the costumes, and the community of those screenings, but eventually, I stopped going. New York in the 1980s offered many other hedonistic pleasures to pursue. Yet fittingly, Rocky Horror continued to haunt me.
In high school, I lived in Paris for a few years directly across the street from Studio Galande, the theater where the movie continues to play to this day. And in 2000, I worked on the marketing team for the first Broadway revival of Rocky Horror. This was the glitter-encrusted baggage I carried with me into Studio 54 to see director Sam Pinkleton's mounting, and I knew I was not alone. Everyone who sets foot inside the theater has some kind of relationship to Rocky Horror, a phenomenon that's influenced pop culture and indoctrinated new acolytes for more than half a century. Would this iteration be able to satisfy us all, from regular Frankie fans to Virgins?
Happily, Pinkleton’s production has the gonzo energy of community theater—everyone onstage (even those not quite up for being there) seems to be having a blast, and that feeling is infectious regardless of how well you know the show. The whole experience feels like an Event, one that begins long before an Usherette (Juliette Lewis) emerges to sing the opening number "Science Fiction / Double Feature." So many folks come in costume or just dressed to slay, and the immersive scenic design by the collective dots bathes the entire space (even the lobby!) in an eerie green light. That sets the campy mood, as do delightfully kitschy touches like random seats swathed in tin foil, naked gold statues flanking the stage, and a chorus of silver lip-synching mannequins.
While there's been much ado over the audience participation rules, cheeky signage reminds theatergoers that this is a live experience, not a movie, and the actors, particularly the amusingly supercilious Rachel Dratch as the Narrator, are empowered to put verbose folks in their place. (When someone yelled out, "Where's your fucking neck?" Dratch deadpanned, "I believe you're thinking of someone else.") As a sign carried by a glamorous cyclops at the outset of the show warns: "Don't be an asshole." It becomes obvious pretty quickly when callouts are welcome and when they're not.
The actors in this starry ensemble aren't trying to recreate the movie onstage, but they also don't pretend it doesn't exist. Luke Evans's statuesque Frank-N-Furter, strutting confidently around in David I. Reynoso's S&M-tinged costumes, has a Curry flavor but he puts his own spin on the character's impulsive, narcissistic behavior. Sporting blonde cornrows, Amber Gray's Riff Raff growls with palpable envy yet seems less subservient than O'Brien, who played the role in the film. Despite fronting a rock band, Lewis isn't much of a singer, but her Magenta is all cackling chaos—her performative nature makes her an ideal creature of the night. Josh Rivera's take on Rocky is less Frankenstein's muscled monster, more newborn twink. As Brad and Janet, Andrew Durand and Stephanie Hsu are the most unlike their celluloid predecessors, finding new laughs in their characters' sexual liberation. Only Harvey Guillén as Eddie / Dr. Scott and Michaela Jaé Rodriguez as Columbia underwhelmed me with their interpretations of these beloved characters. The former, so funny on TV, recedes into the background in both his roles, and the latter hides her fabulous voice under a screech that sounds like Nell Campbell (who played the part onscreen).
For me, the most thrilling part of revisiting this show I know so intimately was the unexpected epiphany sparked by this fresh interpretation. At the end, when Riff Raff pulls a laser on Frank and belts out: "Your mission is a failure, your lifestyle's too extreme," it was as if I were hearing those lyrics for the first time. Yes, Frank is a murderer, but is that really the crime he pays the ultimate price for? Or is Riff Raff denouncing his debaucherous nature (despite having his own incestuous leanings)?
During the last Broadway revival of Rocky Horror 26 years ago, some critics claimed the once-louche show felt quaint. But with Riff Raff's condemnation ringing in my ears, I was reminded that its message of queer acceptance and authenticity is, once again, depressingly urgent. So many of us in NYC live in a glorious, glamorous bubble, yet we still had to fight to have the Pride flag restored at Stonewall and I have trans friends afraid to renew their passports because of the new sex assigned at birth rule. Rocky Horror no longer feels like a nostalgic throwback, it's a primal scream for freedom. I'm just sad the limited run and pricey tickets mean the show is preening to the converted. I'm sure there are adolescents out there who are desperate to see it, not dream it, just like my friends and I did back in the day. At least there's always the midnight movie.
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The Rocky Horror Show is produced by Roundabout Theatre Company and is currently running on Broadway at Studio 54 through July 19, 2026.
