Bella Madge on The Rocky Horror Picture Show as it celebrates its 50th anniversary…
Fifty years ago, a rocket-ship from the planet Transsexual, in the galaxy of Transylvania crashed landed on Earth. With its blood-red swagger and sequined charm, the aliens inside it flooded our soundwaves and filled our dancefloors. It was an infectious rebellion, a paint-splatter of chaos – and 50 years on, we find ourselves doing the Time Warp again and again.
As a result, it’s pretty hard to believe that The Rocky Horror Picture Show initially received a poor reception. During its opening week in cinemas, the film failed to attract the masses, leading to its removal from the runnings. However, it was in the dead of night that the musical came alive. After American theatres changed tactics, choosing to air the film at midnight, a spell was cast over cinemagoers. Like the timid Brad and Janet, Frank N Furter’s castle called out to the average American – and, each night, a gothic party took place within its walls. Audiences were compelled to arrive in costume, amplifying their experience as they stepped into another realm, another planet; in a Rocky Horror screening room, it was possible to be anyone, anyhow, anywhere.
It’s a musical that will always be remembered for its rebellious allure – especially in conjunction with earlier musicals. Up to that point, the musical genre was defined by the 1950s –– always poised, always choreographed, always precise, they were the picture of elegant entertainment. It was Rocky Horror that dared to reinvent that formula. With snarky irreverence, it used the grand MGM sets and elaborate musical numbers for mimicry, to both denounce and pay tribute to what the genre once was. It was a departure into debauchery, swapping flowing skirts and tailored suits for near nudity, chaste kisses for sex scenes; it shocked the life back into audiences who had only known the innocence of Singin’ In The Rain.
Rocky Horror’s irreverence could be divined from its every corner, from the simple flick of a hand to the lace of a corset – but it’s driving force was its cast. Spearheading the ensemble with his irrepressible talent was Tim Curry; reprising his stage role as Frank N Furter, Curry worked every inch of the set with a manic charm. He strutted around, lust-laden and confidence-imbued, ensnaring the audience with cheeky fourth-wall-breaks. Surrounded by his posse, including Riff Raff (played by Richard O’Brien), Magenta (Patricia Quinn) and Columbia (Nell Campbell), it was impossible to deny their infectious, vibrant brand of entertainment. With a powerful set of vocals, Curry let the extra-terrestrial possess his body and soul; with no remnants of the actor in sight, Frank N Furter spun his audiences out for a dance in the stratosphere. It was a revolutionary performance for the actor – from the moment his rhinestone heel touched the wooden floor, Frank N Furter was cemented into film history as a creature of wonder, of desire and a sheer stroke of genius.
All of this exuberant chaos was given (initial!) equilibrium in the form of Susan Sarandon and Barry Bostwick as Janet and Brad. As the recently-engaged couple, their timid normalcy provided an amusing contrast to the liberating environment of the castle. However, their slow transition into delightful depravity was divine to watch. Brad’s exploration of his sexuality, Janet’s night of passion with Frank’s creation – watching their fastidious layers peel away encouraged audiences to do the same. It was yet another signal to audiences to get in touch with something new, something untamed locked within them.
It is, of course, impossible to celebrate Rocky Horror’s legacy without heralding its music. A volatile combination of show tunes and glam rock, the music fizzed, cut, and lived. It breathed life into the hairs of your neck, demanded that they rise and jive with the beat. It was a jostling mix of saxophone solos, energized drum beats, full-bodied guitars and tinkling piano notes – no song missed a beat, no beat failed to get you on your feet. Whether it was the innocence of “Dammit Janet” or the finale majesty of “Rose Tint My World,” each song had the ability to evoke both ecstatic enjoyment and rich emotion.
Since its release, The Rocky Horror Picture Show party hasn’t stopped – and it’s fair to say it never will. Just like those audience-goers 50 years ago, watch-a-longs go on, with costumes and live singing encouraged. It has continued to take the world by storm, becoming a cornerstone of our cinematic education, queer culture and musical history. It is everything a musical should be – a frenetic, passionate, absurd ball of energy that leaves you with nothing but shaking breaths and the urge to dance until the night is through. It was, and remains to be, a reminder of something that should never be repressed or curtailed – our ability to rebel and never hide who we truly are. And, one glistening night at Frank’s castle will remind you exactly who you are, who you want to be.
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Bella Madge is a professional film critic whose bylines include Little White Lies, Picturehouse Cinema and Film Hounds.
Originally published August 14, 2025. Updated December 28, 2025.
