How did The Rocky Horror Show grow from a minor stage musical lark to the movie with the longest theatrical release in history – or, as star and credited creator Richard O’Brien puts it, “a wonderful pension scheme”?
That question is somewhat answered by Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror. The new documentary by O’Brien’s eldest son, Linus, debuted this week at South by Southwest.
On the surface, it’s a straightforward history of the show’s growth spurts on the way to becoming a cultural juggernaut. Strange Journey charmingly recounts how it emerged from the increasingly worthless library of religious-themed rock musicals that dominated London’s West End post-Hair. That tiny 1973 production became a mainstream theatrical smash before getting its own movie adaptation, The Rocky Horror Picture Show. The show that started as a reaction to Bible rock, as original director Jim Sharman puts it, ended up the only one that had its own associated cult. Even true obsessives may find new details about this hedonistic homage to the golden age of B-movies, looking beyond O’Brien’s input and biography, and exploring the collaborative birth and continuing life of the show and spin-off movie. There’s even a brief, rare interview with Peter Hinwood, the film version’s golden hunk Rocky, placing this as close to definitive as possible.
It’s therefore inevitably disappointing that Linus steers clear of mention of the show’s theatrical life after the film, instead restricting himself to the shadow casts and audience involvement that defines the seemingly eternal cycle of midnight screenings. Nor does he mention Shock Treatment, the 1981 quasi-sequel that almost dared the audience to enjoy it. Like The Rocky Horror Picture Show, it was a flop on release, but unlike the original, it never got that cult revival.
The least interesting element may be academics and celebrity riffraff like Trixie Mattel and Jack Black explaining their fandom. Indeed, the fan interaction is most affecting when Linus reads letters to his father in which correspondents tell him how much the movie changed their lives. Even more intriguing are Linus’ subtle questions about ownership and authorship. Rocky Horror was born of a closely guarded independence, which explains why O’Brien was able to keep much of the original stage cast for the movie rather than selling the rights to David Bowie. O’Brien et al. created Rocky Horror, but now it arguably belongs to the fans who turn out every weekend (although, more strictly, O’Brien is the one cashing the Saturday box office check on Monday morning).
Strange Journey soon becomes an implicit exploration of how the Rocky Horror phenomenon has always overshadowed the lives and careers of the stars and creators, owning them more than they have owned it. It doesn’t matter what Barry Bostwick or Susan Sarandon or Tim Curry went on to do, they’ll always be at some level Brad and Janet and Dr. Frank-N-Furter. That narrowly defined version of fame is only amplified for many of Curry’s fellow castmates from the original West End production. There’s gratitude but also a little melancholy that they never really moved beyond the fishnets and sparkly top hats.
Moreover, the most telling moment in the film comes after Linus has painstakingly recorded the essential impact of all those other creative spirits, including Sharman, musical director Richard Hartley, and costume designer Sue Blane. Here comes Lou Adler, producer of the original L.A. version, referring to Richard O’Brien as the show’s creator, like all those arrangements and fishnets emerged from him fully formed.
After all, no one has had their life more overshadowed than Richard O’Brien, and Linus gets to study his father’s look back at a life defined by one show he knocked out over a long weekend decades ago in between “real” theatrical jobs. “I haven’t got much time,” Richard laughingly tells Hartley, after sprinting through a guitar-and-piano version of “Science Fiction/Double Feature.” At the age of 82 that statement is loaded with his mortality, even if he delivers it with a smile.
In some ways, Rocky Horror’s depiction of diabolical debauchery is less transgressive than it seems, but that may be reflective of the inherent sweetness of Richard O’Brien. There’s that underlying sense that he’s never changed from the first day that he put on Riff-Raff’s costume in the dressing room at the tiny Royal Court Upstairs Theatre five decades ago. Time may not be that fleeting after all.
Screens again Thursday, March 13.
Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror
Documentary Spotlight, World Premiere
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This article appears in March 7 • 2025.
