Rocky Horror is back on Broadway for only the third time in 50 years, and it’s a scream. It’s also queerer than ever and horny AF.
I’m sure that I haven’t been alone in shivering with antici…pation, ever since last March when Roundabout Theatre Company announced that their revival of Richard O’Brien’s The Rocky Horror Show would be staged at the historic home of legendary debauchery, Studio 54, led by the white-hot Tony-winning Oh, Mary! director Sam Pinkleton.
When it comes to cult shows and movies, Rocky is the one that all else is measured by and the majority of audience members will come to this production with at least some degree of familiarity. Even if you have never seen the stage version or film adaptation, many of the songs, especially “The Time Warp”, are inescapably ingrained into the fabric of popular culture, along with the iconography of Tim Curry in the role he originated, Frank-N-Furter; among the boldest and most indelible screen performances of all-time.
I was introduced to the music first, over 40 years ago, through one of my older sisters blasting out the movie soundtrack on her record player and was fascinated when she when she got dressed up to go out in her underwear for a midnight movie screening that I was too young to go to. Then came my own first viewing of the film, which, as for so many LGBTQ+ folks who discover Rocky, came with a profound feeling of resonance with the material without quite yet knowing why.
Over the intervening years, I would revisit the film at least annually and fall for it even harder with each viewing. When it comes to the stage show though, I was still a virgin until last Saturday night when I attended Roundabout’s riotous new production. Others in the audience were audibly even more intimate with and passionate about Rocky than I was and knew just when to shout out the callbacks that emerged from midnight screenings of the Picture Show that started at New York’s Waverly Theater 50 years go this month.
This isn’t any ordinary revival then. That kind of deep personal connection held by so many, and its enduring presence in the public consciousness, brings a heavy weight of expectation along with excitement. Added to which, Rocky isn’t a surefire hit in this city. The original 1975 Broadway run arrived riding high from London and Los Angeles but closed after just four previews and 45 performances. It was followed by a far more successful 2000 production starring Joan Jett, Lea DeLaria, and Daphne Rubin-Vega. A quarter of a century on, Pinkleton has breathed new life into O’Brien’s timeless creation. Every aspect of this production has clearly been crafted with love and respect for what’s come before along with a fearless inventiveness and a commitment to absolute pleasure. The limited run has already been extended through July 19th.
The show begins with a beautifully simple setup as Juliette Lewis appears solo in front of the curtain dressed as a movie theatre usherette to set the scene of what is to come with the dreamy “Science Fiction Double Feature” nostalgically invoking the sci-fi B-movies that captured O’Brien’s imagination and provided the core inspiration for Rocky Horror. Lewis is entrancing. Her voice is playfully characterful, yet soulful and rich as she draws us into the world of alien invasions and killer triffids. She looks like she is having the time of her life and that exuberance is infectious.
One of the joys of Rocky is the way it taps into storytelling in its purest form with its unruffled, apparently impartial Narrator (Rachel Dratch) guiding us through the “strange journey” that this show takes us on like an expert witness giving a deposition in court. Then it subverts what it has established as the Narrator’s seemingly unflappable composure and dispassionate perspective begin to disintegrate. Casting Dratch was a stroke of genius as she brings the confidence of a seasoned improv comedian, who is able to breezily converse with a thousand-strong audience, as she builds a performance that feels utterly alive and in the moment and puts us at our ease. She exudes wit and charm, and strikes just the right balance of taking the character seriously while allowing herself to have plenty fun with it and carries us along for the ride.
Outlandish as it is, the show’s plot is satisfyingly straightforward and gleefully simple. Our newly engaged heroes, Brad (Andrew Durand) and Janet (Stephanie Hsu)—as American as apple pie, the epitome of 1950s middle class heteronormativity—are on their way to see their former teacher and friend Dr. Scott (Harvey Guillén) when they get caught with a burst tire in a heavy rainstorm late one November night. Before long, they find themselves taking refuge at a remote, spooky looking castle, the Frankenstein Place, where they hope to use the telephone to report their car trouble and then get on their way. Instead, they are drawn into the world of charismatic mad scientist Frank-N-Furter (Luke Evans) and his minions, including his “faithful handyman” Riff Raff (Amber Gray) and servants Magenta (Juliette Lewis) and Columbia (Michaela Jaé Rodriguez).
As Riff Raff informs the couple, they happen to have arrived at the castle on “a rather special night”, Frank is preparing to unveil his latest creation, a musclebound man of his dreams named Rocky (Josh Rivera), who turns out to be less pliant than he’d expected. Meanwhile, an old flame whom Frank had grown tired of and left on ice, Eddie (Guillén again), unexpectedly crashes the party.
Along the way, Pinkleton deftly mines O’Brien’s kinetic script for every laugh, while discovering plenty of moments of physical comedy, as he continually surprises and delights with his staging choices, including a deliriously enjoyable “Damn It Janet” that features a row of white gloved hands protruding from gaps in the curtain like a cartoon come to life.
Following their collaboration on Oh, Mary!, Pinkleton reunites with Tony-nominated design collective dots for the sets with stunning results. Before Brad and Janet enter the doors of the castle, the action is played without a set, with the car they are traveling in implied by two headlights, a steering wheel and a single windscreen wiper, and powered by the production’s alluring quartet of “Phantoms” (Boy Radio, Paul Soileau, Caleb Quezon, and Larkin Reilly) who by turns serve as mischievous Fates and members of Frank’s household with dazzling moves and smooth vocals.
Once the couple enters the castle doors, the world opens up like Dorothy’s arrival in Oz, as a majestic hallway is revealed with a grand, leopard print carpeted staircase at its centre. Later we’re taken down to Frank’s lab, a vibrant vision of B-movie madcap science. We know from Back to the Future and Stranger Things how far stage special effects have come, but that wouldn’t be appropriate here, so the raygun fire is largely left to our imaginations and there is liberal use of dry ice. It is refreshing at a time when screens have dominated Broadway in shows like Sunset Blvd. and Dorian Gray, that when it comes to a scene that involves an actual screen in Rocky, dots decide to do away with one altogether to deliver visuals with a real punch as this production fully embraces the show’s inherent celebration of its own theatricality. This Rocky offers first-rate Broadway production values while also invoking the “let’s put on a show” scrappiness of the show’s original staging Upstairs at the Royal Court with its origins in experimental theatre.
In union with Alberto “Albee” Alvarado’s hair and wig design and Sterling Tull’s makeup, David I. Reynoso’s costumes skillfully riff on established Rocky looks while invigoratingly redefining them. Perhaps the biggest departure is Rocky, now in a jockstrap and sheer wrestling suit with fishnet panels that shows off Frank’s creation to perfection. While Frank himself is every inch a glam rock god with touches of kink like his leather harness and latex gloves. Another standout is the otherworldly one-eyed alien meets Vegas showgirl outfit sported by Boy Radio with flowing moves, which is to die for.
Durand and Hsu make for a engaging double act, with pinpoint comic timing, as they brilliantly calibrate their transformations from earnest, buttoned up, decent members of society, to emancipated pleasure-seekers giving in to their true desires. Both have peppy delivery and their vocals are divine, but never at the expense of their well-defined character work. While Rivera really makes the character of Rocky his own, as the handsome creature who gradually builds awareness and autonomy during his seven-hour lifespan, and he sings the hell out of his stirring entrance number “The Sword of Damocles”. Guillén manages to make an immediate impact as he bursts onto the stage and straight into his rollicking rendition of the “Hot Patootie”, while Pinkleton keeps the pacing and energy up as he builds momentum towards the Act I curtain. Later, Guillén is almost unrecognizable in his hilarious turn as Dr. Scott, with superb movement work.
At the centre of it all is Luke Evans who commands the stage as Frank-N-Furter. At six foot out of heels his physical presence is matched by his magnetism. As far as Frank sees it, anyone in his orbit is there in his service, and Evans brings a seductively playful warmth that can turn on a dime to threatening and chillingly dangerous. Exuding sexuality, there’s also a sharp petulance of someone who is used to getting their own way to Evans’ Frank, with the occasional touch of drag queen cattiness. His interactions with Brad and Janet are especially enjoyable as their squareness rubs against his persuasive decadence.
With intimacy coordination by Ann James, Pinkleton’s Rocky Horror is unapologetically sexier—and queerer—than ever, with nipple play, boot licking, and rimming. Nowadays we might perceive Frank as a gender nonconforming pansexual, but not only would it be anachronistic to retroactively label him, but the character itself eschews that kind of categorization. After all, he doesn’t conform to human rules, he’s an alien with an appetite for self-invention.
Pinkleton delivers exhilarating ensemble numbers, creating one showstopping spectacle after another powered by Ani Taj’s frisky choreography, but masterfully dials things back at times, drawing us into the detail too. Towards the end, Rodriguez gives a spine-shiveringly truthful performance as Columbia that momentarily breaks the spell of the world that Frank has created for himself. It is a monologue that suddenly grounds the piece, shifting tones as it leads towards the most emotionally potent scene of the production. It begins with Frank-N-Furter’s aerial arrival that somehow upstages his own first entance, theatrically descending from the rafters as the man in the moon as part of the floorshow he decides to stage.
Having been hit with some devastating news, Frank performs the poignant rock ballad “I’m Going Home”. In Evans’ hands it is the perfect match of sublime, powerhouse vocals and a deep well of emotion, with the character finally revealing his vulnerability, that brought me to tears and should see Evans pick up a Tony nomination. There’s something so simple and yet profound in the song’s lyrics that captures the fragility and brevity of life: “Cuz I’ve seen blue skies / Through the tears in my eyes / And I realize I’m going home”. We’re suddenly taken away from the madcap hilarity that pervades much of the show to somewhere deeper and more contemplative, and that’s what makes this production truly special.
Given that the visuals are so striking, along with its transgressive narrative and characters, the music itself can sometimes get forgotten. Rocky Horror has more bangers than a manufactured jukebox musical, there is no filler here as one memorable, explosive number follows another. From the opening song, O’Brien’s rhymes—”Michael Rennie was ill / The day the Earth stood still”—are as satisfying and pleasurable as his catchy melodies. The result, with this production under music supervisor Kris Kukul at least, is a show with the electrifying energy of a rock concert.
At the heart of Rocky Horror, there are powerful themes of sexual liberation, self-acceptance and self-invention—encapsulated in “Don’t Dream It, Be It”—and of not conforming to societal expectations regarding gender and sexuality and how we live our lives more broadly. Themes that chimed with the times when the show was first staged in London in 1973 and that take on a new relevance in this regressive and repressive political era we find ourselves in, when women’s and LGBTQ+ rights and freedom of speech are all under attack, along with cultural censorship. Let’s face it, this show would be prohibited at DC’s newly renamed Kennedy Center.
When we first encounter Janet, all she envisions for her future is becoming a wife. Emulating her friend Betty Munroe’s transformation from “plain” maid to “radiantly beautiful” bride, Mrs. Ralf Hapshatt, whose place as “a wonderful little cook” will now be in the kitchen. Like Janet, Brad has bought into the American Dream, and admires his friend’s safe career choices and prospects for a promotion. Their dreams are for a small, perfectly respectable life that’s more to do with living out what they have been conditioned to want for themselves rather than following their hearts or libidos. Frank embodies the antithesis of that and it’s freeing for all who encounter him, including us as an audience. Murder and temper tantrums aside, there is a lot to admire about his approach to life, and that’s part of Rocky’s continuing appeal.
Like Frankenstein’s monster, O’Brien’s creation is a thrilling amalgamation—piecing together rock’n’roll, 50s pop culture, B-Movies, pop art, and 70s glam rock, and more—to give life to something immortal that still feels original; its urgency and entrancing power to delight undimmed. During the show, I found myself questioning whether I was allowed to have this much fun on Broadway? Is it OK for a show to largely be there for entertainment and escapism. Then I decided to take Frank’s advice to heart and “gave myself over to absolute pleasure”. It was a night out. A magical night out at Studio 54 that left me on a high for days.
By James Kleinmann
Roundabout Theatre Company’s The Rocky Horror Show is now running in a limited limited engagement extended through July 19th, 2026 at Broadway’s Studio 54 (254 West 54th Street, New York). For more details and to purchase tickets visit rockyhorrorshowbroadway.com.
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