Publication Date: 10-06-2025

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (50th Anniversary re-release) review

Dir. Jim Sharman

By: Steve Pulaski

Rating: ★★★★

This review was written after seeing the 50th anniversary re-release of The Rocky Horror Picture Show in theaters.

Within the last year, I’ve had the privilege of seeing The Rocky Horror Picture Show in a plethora of different settings: at a horror convention in Ottumwa, IA; a casino showing hosted by Little Nell Campbell, complete with a shadow-cast; and a recent screening at a convention in Des Moines, hosted by Barry Bostwick. Now, I can officially say I’ve seen the film in a movie theater setting, with an engaged audience armed with toilet paper, toast, squirt guns, and other items found in their trusty survival kits.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show is “back” in theaters for a limited time to celebrate its 50th anniversary. I place “back” in quotations, for it never really left. It’s the longest-running theatrical release in cinema history. After an ignominious premiere in 1975 that saw a tornadic blend of scathing reviews and paltry box office returns, not even director Jim Sharman in his most drunken, egotistical state could’ve foreseen the phenomena the film would become and subsequently sustain across multiple generations.

At the risk of sounding like most who belong to the Rocky Horror faithful, my introduction to the musical was unique. My good friend, Brian Patrick O’Toole, was a regular attendee of midnight showings in/around the Chicagoland area in the 1970s and 1980s. It was 2010. He suggested we watch the movie in a “party” via Xbox Live (as we were in two different locations in the country). While the movie played, he would serve as the one-man “audience” shouting comments, questions, and jokes via his microphone to give me a taste of the experience. It’s why the first time I saw the film with an audience last year, I could confidently shout back to the opening lips singing “Science Fiction/Double Feature,” and say such heinous things as “69!” (“they got caught in a cellular jam”) and “fucking and sucking” (“see androids fighting”).

Film critic Roger Ebert might’ve been lukewarm (incorrect) in his assessment of the film some years after its release, but he did point out the cute irony about the quintessential midnight experience: it’s the paradoxical “exhibitor-audience relationship” where we, the fans, are buying tickets to attend our own show.

Reviewing The Rocky Horror Picture Show as a movie is difficult if you’ve grown accustomed to seeing it with an audience. Having seen it roughly five or six times before experiencing it in a public setting, I can confidently say I’m not blinded by the confetti and overstimulating noise that permeates the air of a screening. This is a wildly original, unpredictable little movie with a delicious ensemble of extraordinary characters and committed players who double down on the camp atmosphere. The soundtrack is as lively and rambunctious as the film, germane to the introduction of a gaggle of Transsexual Transylvanians prompted by two appropriate vessels: an asshole and a slut.

Said asshole and slut are Brad Majors (Barry Bostwick) and Janet Weiss (Susan Sarandon), a hopelessly vanilla couple whose vehicle breaks down in a rainstorm shortly after their engagement. They stumble upon a castle, but are not the least bit prepared for who resides within. Initially, they’re created by a faithful servant named Riff Raff (co-writer Richard O’Brien), who brings them inside, introduces them to fellow servants, Magenta (Patricia Quinn) and Columbia (Little Nell Campbell), and leads them in the famous “Time Warp” dance.

From there, our asshole and slut are introduced to Dr. Frank-N-Further (Tim Curry), the Sweet Transvestite himself. He’s also a mad scientist, consumed by the thrill of pleasure, so much so that he has created his own musclebound boy-toy named Rocky (Peter Hinwood). Other individuals who arrive throughout the night include Eddie (rock singer Meat Loaf), the doomed lover of Columbia, Dr. Everett V. Scott (Jonathan Adams), and the Criminologist (renowned British actor Charles Gray, absent of a neck), who narrates the picture and provides commentary.

The music is a massive part of the allure of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Like any great entry into the genre, no matter how many times you watch it, and regardless of what avenue you take, the songs jolt you with a glitzy, gaudy, musically vibrant energy. Everyone knows and loves “Time Warp” and “Sweet Transvestite,” but after several rewatches, my favorites have become some of the secondary numbers. I stand by that Meat Loaf’s “Hot Patootie (Bless My Soul)” is not only the best song, but the best musical number as a whole. Susan Sarandon’s “Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me” is emblematic of a square becoming emboldened by newfound pleasure. Meanwhile, Jonathan Adams takes the lead on “Eddie,” a song about Meat Loaf’s character, and my last few viewings have led me to consider that it, above any other song in the film, might have the most infuriatingly catchy chorus.

If you’re new to the Rocky Horror lore, or perhaps found yourself underwhelmed after seeing it — questioning why this is often considered to be the greatest cult movie ever made — I leave you this to consider. Here’s a film that’s main message is to “be” something. Be whatever and whomever you want to be, as long as you don’t harm nor hinder anyone else in the process. The longer you spend dreaming, the less you spend doing, and then you could end up a square like Brad and Janet. The culture of the midnight screenings celebrates this fact. Individuals who could just as easily spend their nights inside watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show instead take the leap, put on their best makeup and costumes, and dare to step out into the world, unapologetically themselves and their fandom. Unlike most cults, this one isn’t exclusionary, but inclusionary.

50 years is a long time to stay relevant, and judging by the number of under-35 people at each and every Rocky Horror showing I’ve attended, I don’t see the flame diminishing anytime soon. Thankfully.

Starring: Tim Curry, Barry Bostwick, Susan Sarandon, Richard O’Brien, Patricia Quinn, Little Nell Campbell, Peter Hinwood, Jonathan Adams, Charles Gray, and Meat Loaf. Directed by: Jim Sharman.