I was de-virginized last night at my first Rocky Horror Picture Show experience and it was, as I had been warned, highly participatory. If you yourself are still a virgin, I will enlighten you: the ridiculous 1975 rock musical B-movie is augmented by a group of live actors who dress (scantily) as the actors and lip-synch the lines while yelling commentary at the screen. Audiences are encouraged to throw stuff, dance and yell at appropriate or inappropriate moments. Before the midnight show at Clearview Cinemas in Chelsea, all the virgins–as in audience members who had never seen the show before–were asked to come to the front of the theater. Alaina obviously blew up my spot and sent me to the front to “fake an orgasm”.
This is the very definition of cult following. This terrible movie has been in theaters for over thirty years because of its fans, who transform it into something much greater than it ever was conceived to be and give it life beyond its moment. It also takes the 2-dimensional work and adds infinitely more, reclaiming the cinema as a live venue with self-awareness.
About a week ago, I watched another transvestite rock musical called Hedwig and The Angry Inch. Also ridiculous, yet touching and beautiful, it is a melodic story of love and creation and loss, music and themes that cross all gender lines. Everybody has issues with sex, no matter what packaging we have, and all that matters is loving ourselves and, if we are lucky, finding someone with whom to share that love.