EDITORIAL: De-Virginization, or: Red Eye's Very First 'Rocky Horror Picture Show'

On the way back from the movie theater, my friend and I made jokes about the perplexing existence of The Rocky Horror Picture Show – how the hell did it get made, what production company thought this was a good idea, etc. Of course, we live in the age of the Internet, where the very questions raised by my friend and I could be answered with a simple visit to Google or Wikipedia. During the conversation, I chimed in further – what would be the fun in actually looking this up? With a movie as outrageous, confounding, and inexplicable as this, to actually do the research on the reasons behind its inception would spoil one of the most glaring of anomalies in cinema. Besides, whatever the original intentions were, I highly doubt those involved were aiming for Rocky Horror to become the cult ritual it is today.

It took 25 years of existence, but it has finally happened: last night, I went to my very first screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show – actually, scratch that; last night, I was at last de-virginized. Here I am the next morning, and I’m still kind of taking it all in. Was it what I expected? Yeah, pretty much – it has become such an essential part of moviegoing for over 40 years that to not know what to expect would mean living under some kind of rock for my life. That said, it doesn’t exactly mean I was lukewarm in my reception to it. Oh, I want to emphasize something: the “it” I just referred to isn’t so much referring to The Rocky Horror Picture Show itself as much as it is referring to the experience of partaking in the very ritual of seeing the landmark cult classic. After all, how could I possibly be unconditionally invested in the movie with all of the singing, dancing, and shouting (which I partook in, of course) going on around me?

So, without further ado, let’s do the time-warp back to the evening of October 27^th, 2018. We, being my two good friends and I, pull up to the Tempe Alamo Drafthouse. It’s around 7:45 or so, and the show doesn’t start until 9, so we decide to hit up the bar and get a few drinks in us – well, except for me, as I wasn’t much in the mood for a drink, but oh, boy, do I wish I would have gotten a gin and tonic in me before the festivities. We link up with a couple of more friends and swap stories for an hour or so. But, the inevitable quickly approached us, and it was soon time for the show to begin.

Ushered into the theater by the director of the event (dressed as Magenta), we took our seats, ordered up some more beverages, and immediately sorted through the contents of the brown paper bags in front of us:

- Cone-shaped party hat

- Water pistol (which we had to fill ourselves)

- Sheet of newspaper

- Noise-maker

- Confetti popper

- Playing card

- Slice of stale, day old sourdough toast (I was crestfallen to discover we weren’t allowed to eat it)

The clock strikes 9, the theater darkens, but the front of the house is illuminated by spotlights. Enter the program director, who made her little introduction to the event, her experiences with it, and, most importantly, going over the house rules. Though her emphasis on said rules made me really worried of completely screwing up, her sparky energy was contagious beyond belief, and I was really excited for the festivities to start.

Then it’s time for the initiation: everybody is asked to stand up. If they have been to Rocky Horror XXX amount of times, please be seated. If they have been XX amount of times, please be seated. If they have been X amount of times, please be seated. If they have been even only a measly once, please be seated. So, there I am, still standing among my fellow virgins, 20 of which are summoned to the front of the house. My shyness prevented me from making my way initially, but I eventually got the courage to get my ass up there. It’s just too bad that I was one too many, and I trotted back to my seat. To any Rocky Horror virgins: never, ever pass up virgin initiation. It may be a little nerve-wracking, but remember that it’s all in good fun.

So, as for the 20 that stood before us; every other virgin is ordered to get down on their knees. Those still standing are handed a Twinkie, which they are to hold in the crotch region. Here is the virgin challenge that lies before us: those on their knees are to suck out the cream filling without destroying the Twinkies. Unfortunately, I was unable to see much from where I sat, but many a fellatio joke were made by everybody, along with plenty of cheering. Well, the challenge ended, and the winner was awarded some free Drafthouse passes.

And now it’s time for the main event. The lips on screen that beg for a Cease & Desist from the Rolling Stones descant about a science fiction double feature. Cut to a wedding, where Brad (asshooole) just loves Janet (sluuut), dammit! They get engaged, drive about in the rain, have a blow-out, and stumble upon a mysterious house. From there, it’s a rockin’ musical misadventure involving a couple that just want to use the phone, a shredded as hell man in golden undies (who could be a dead ringer for Rugter Hauer), men that turn out to be women, women that turn out to be men, all spearheaded, of course, by a sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania, played by godlike cult icon Tim Curry, whose presence can make anything worth watching. On top of it all, this is all narrated by a British gentleman with no neck.

Watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show in the theater was like being part of an X-rated edition of Mystery Science Theater 3000, as the audience shouted out hilariously lewd riffs to the screen, a gentleman in the front and the program director being the absolute funniest out of all of us (her asshole/slut windshield wiper gesture during the rainstorm drive had me practically in tears). Of course, I’m sitting (or standing) there like a fish out of water, even with a set of instructions in hand. My personal favorite part of the whole experience was watching the shadow cast in the front, miming and acting out the movie to a T – their interpretation of the bed/silhouette scene was incredible.

But, all good things must come to an end. The movie finishes, the applause is overwhelming, we tip our waitress, and we all make our way out of the theater. We give our regards to the wonderful shadow cast, and drive back home. I listen to my friends as they talk about their experiences with Rocky Horror, how this one compared to their past viewings, stuff like that, all the while I’m standing here in a sort of catatonic state. Finally, my friend directs his attention to me and asks what I thought of it all. Skip a beat, and I was only able to utter the following:

“What the hell just happened?”