28/06/2025
In the autumn of 1973, inside the tiny Royal Court Theatre’s Upstairs stage in London, a bizarre musical took shape. Richard O’Brien, a struggling actor between gigs, wrote a strange, satirical play to occupy his time. He combined elements of science fiction, B-movie horror, glam rock, and sexual liberation. Originally titled "They Came from Denton High", the musical was retitled "The Rocky Horror Show". It ran for barely 60 minutes with a minimal cast, but each performance drew more and more curious theatergoers, eventually catching the attention of director Jim Sharman, who had directed O’Brien in "Jesus Christ Superstar".
Sharman convinced Lou Adler, a music executive who had backed the stage production in Los Angeles, that it needed a film adaptation. Filming began in October 1974 at Bray Studios, a British location known for Hammer horror films. The cast included Tim Curry as Dr. Frank N Furter, a role he originated on stage, and Susan Sarandon and Barry Bostwick as the clueless American couple Janet and Brad. Curry’s high heels, corset, and lipstick were not a costume experiment. He had performed in them on stage for years, perfecting a character that was equal parts predator, diva, and misunderstood genius.
One major obstacle hit early: the production’s limited budget. Instead of building lavish sets, the crew used Oakley Court, a decaying Gothic mansion near the Thames. The building was freezing cold, had no insulation, and was riddled with rats and leaky ceilings. Susan Sarandon caught pneumonia during the pool scene. She begged to wear a robe between takes but the costume team refused, fearing continuity issues. Her co-stars kept working under the same freezing conditions, with Tim Curry’s makeup often running from the moisture.
The film’s music, all composed by Richard O’Brien and arranged by Richard Hartley, was recorded before shooting began. Songs like "Time Warp", "Sweet Transvestite", and "Touch a, Touch a, Touch a, Touch Me" pushed the boundaries of what studio executives considered acceptable. During test screenings, executives were horrified. One commented, “It’s like watching a musical directed by Frankenstein and scored by David Bowie on acid.”
One of the strangest casting moments involved Meat Loaf, who was brought on to play Eddie. He later admitted he did not understand the script or plot at all. “They handed me this thing, and I thought, ‘Who’s Riff Raff? Why is there a transvestite alien? What is going on here?’” During his musical number "Hot Patootie", director Sharman demanded that Meat Loaf ride a motorcycle through the castle set. A stunt double handled most shots, but in one close-up, Meat Loaf accidentally crashed through a wall, injuring his knee.
The audience at the 1975 premiere did not know what to make of the film. It opened quietly in London and then bombed in the United States. But then, something unexpected happened in New York. The Waverly Theater began midnight showings, drawing eccentric, expressive crowds. People came dressed as Frank N Furter, Columbia, and Magenta. They yelled lines back at the screen, danced in the aisles, and threw props. A full-blown audience participation culture was born, not planned by the producers but invented organically by the viewers.
This underground popularity turned into a phenomenon. Richard O’Brien once shared that the script’s strangeness came from his own feelings of being an outsider. He had never felt at home in the traditional world and created a space where misfits could rule. He said, “I was never invited to the ball, so I wrote one and made myself the host.”
An unexpected cultural moment happened when Princess Diana met Tim Curry during a theater event in the 1980s. According to Curry, she told him with a smile, “Thank you for the film, it quite completed my education.”
"The Rocky Horror Picture Show" became more than a movie. It became a ritual, a sanctuary, and an unapologetic celebration of eccentricity and freedom. And it all started because one actor, unemployed and restless, wrote the weirdest thing he could imagine during a lonely winter evening.
Even today, somewhere on a midnight screen, Frank N Furter still struts down those castle stairs, fishnets shining, lips red, and arms wide open.
