The premise for Richard O’Brien’s “The Rocky Horror Show” is gleefully campy, informed by heavy doses of sexual schlock. The stage version premiered in 1973, followed soon after by the 1975 film, arguably the standard bearer of the term “cult classic.”
The film has its own monopoly on supplemental fun, encouraging audiences to serve as collaborators with costumes and call-outs that accentuate every piece of engaging off-color wit they can muster. But “Rocky Horror” was born for the stage, and when done right, the musical positively pops with delicious savagery in ways the movie cannot touch-a-touch.
To that end, City Lights Theater Company has done it right. My, my, my, have they done it right.
Under the sleek and slick stewardship of director Amber Smith and Stephanie Staszak’s crackling choreography, the company utterly has its way with this tale of sexual spirit. From the jump, every ounce of energy, skill, wit and wisdom oozes out of this thing like a laser.
The show proves a hit for any audience type, from those who can appreciate the sexual liberation and gender fluidity of the story’s raunchy elements to others who just want to rock out and shake their rumps. The trials and travails of Doctor Frank-N-Furter (Bart Perry), who crafts boy toys as a profession with varying degrees of success, is infused with both hilarity and a core with smooth power ballads.
It takes mere seconds to know that this show is gonna slap with a bruising ferocity, thanks to the absolute belt of Chloë Angst as the B-movie tribute-singing Usherette, showing up later with diva-like skills as the incestuous Magenta. Shortly after, a couple of 1950s clean-cuts are introduced into the world — Brad Majors (Ethan Glasman), a dude as white as his name, and his loyally square girlfriend Janet Weiss (Gwynnevere Cristobal).
They fawn over each other, pledge their love constantly and all is just so peachy until a broken down car forces Brad and Janet towards a spooky mansion occupied by some odd folks, including Magenta, her partner in crime Columbia (Alycia Adame) and creepy, tongue-wagging doorman Riff-Raff (Kit Wilder for opening weekend). It doesn’t take long for things to get very haywire, thanks to the creation of the show’s title character Rocky (Will Patrick), who gums up the works with a brand new libido that is ready to rock.
Ultimately, the naughty hot dog doc’s demise comes after a showdown with Doctor Everett Scott (Matt Regan), but not before a very odd floor show is demanded, where everyone wears lingerie and feels great until they don’t.
What makes this production such a scintillation is how fresh and alive it feels. Every classic number is a hit, with a riveting energy that shakes the old theater building down to the studs. Even in a reinvention of a role such as the Narrator, tackled by veteran performer Karen DeHart, her playful vibe, twinkling eye and searing touches of command offers something new and fresh, especially in cheeky little interactions with the famed, impromptu audience call outs.
Top to bottom, performances are viral and bold. Any production of “Rocky” starts and ends with the sweet transvestite Frank-N-furter, and Perry brings it with verve. In addition to the signature song, his versions of “I Can Make You a Man” and “I’m Going Home” are memorable.
That freshness even offers up something engaging in the payoff. Glasman’s hilarity in “Once in a While,” with a steady stream of photos popping up throughout Brad’s outfit, manifests into a genuinely human moment shaped by Smith’s direction. Brad and Janet stand near each other, having journeyed so far and now existing far from each other, bearing sad silk and lace as their only mask.
While the show is a joyful oddity in the storytelling, its technical elements make the production the glitzfest that it is. Lonie Fullerton’s costumes capture both the liberating sexuality and Ike-era energy that contrasts mightily in the narrative. Ron Gasparenetti’s lab-infused set design is the perfect match for Carsten Koester’s luminous lighting plot. And the band smokes more than Rocky’s birth cell, led by the musical direction of Brian Allan Hobbs and his tight band, along with Tina Paulson’s vocal coordination.
This production of “The Rocky Horror Show” fits firmly into the run don’t walk category, and is as much fun as the classic late-night double feature. After doing the time warp with these folks, you’ll want to do it again. And again and again and again.
David John Chávez is chair of the American Theatre Critics Association and a two-time juror for the Pulitzer Prize for Drama (‘22-‘23); @davidjchavez
‘THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW’
Book, music and lyrics by Richard O’Brien, presented by City Lights Theater Company
Through: Aug. 25
Where: City Lights Theater, 529 S. Second St., San Jose
Running time: 2 hours with an intermission
Tickets: $38-$63; cltc.org
