LIKE a wickedly naughty, favourite uncle,
breezing in amid a swirl of mayhem, excitement and fun, happily leading
everyone astray, Rocky Horror is back in town.
Richard O’Brien’s musical homage to the sci-fi
and horror films that populated the ranks of the B-movies from the 1940s
to the 1970s is heading, ungracefully as ever, into middle age - it is
43 on Thursday – but is still refusing to grow up.
It is still as juvenile, silly and gloriously
funny as ever and has a growing cult following, who arrive in suitably
risqué attire - basques, suspenders, and fishnets being the order of the
day, particularly for men, some of whom had that Bambi on ice look as
they walked in their high heels.
Liam Tamne as Frank and Dominic Andersen as Rocky
Not that it is just fancy dress. In this show,
more than any other, audience participation is not just encouraged but
is essential, they are as big a star as any of the characters on stage,
and in truth, without them, much of the fun and many of the laughs would
vanish and we would be left with a rather silly musical.
With them it has become a theatrical institution
which even has its own script and etiquette for audiences and on Press
night large numbers of the Wolverhampton faithful were not only dressed
up for it but remarkably well rehearsed.
The story is simple, Brad and Janet are off to
see an old teacher, Dr Scott, but their car breaks down, (cue thunder,
lightning and rain) so they head to the nearest gloomy, gothic castle.
Full of weirdos and with a butler/dogsbody called Riff Raff, although it
could easily have been Igor, it would not seem to be the ideal spot to
seek assistance.
The owner appears to be Frank-N-Furter who has
just knocked up a creature, as all owners of gothic castles have to do
by B-movie law, a perfect specimen of manhood by the name of Rocky.
Liam Tamne, who had a solid West End CV behind
him before appearing on BBC1’s The Voice, takes on the iconic roll of
Frank, a pansexual cross dresser, with mischievous camp delight while
his faithful manservant, Riff Raff, with the obligatory hunchback and
trailing crippled leg, is played by Kristian Lavercombe, who is
approaching his 1,000 appearance in the show in productions as far apart
as Australia and New Zealand Asia and . . . Birmingham.
And staffing the Gothic pile are hand maidens, or
whatever, Columbia played by Sophie Linder-Lee, bringing humour to the
part, and Magenta played by Kay Murphy, who exudes a sort of debauched
sexuality in the role.
She also plays the
Usherette who opens and closes the performance with Science Fiction/Double Feature.
At the more human end of the cast we have Diane
Vickers, an X-factor finalist and star of the 2009 West End revival of
The Rise and Fall of Little Voice, who plays the young and innocent, or
at least she is when we started, Janet Weiss with Richard Meek as the
nerdy Brad Majors, her devoted but dull fiancé.
Then S Club 7’s Paul Cattermole has the dual role
of failed rocker experiment Eddie, who goes to pieces, helped by Frank
and his chopper, soon after his appearance, which leaves Paul free to
take up the role of the mysterious, wheelchair bound scientist Dr Scott.
Keeping order, in a remarkably laid back way, is
the narrator, played by Dudley-born Norman Pace, perhaps still best
known for his double act with Gareth Hale. Norman, and Gareth, have
become accomplished actors since leaving Hale and Pace on a back burner,
but the stand-up skills honed over the years were still there in dealing
with the obligatory heckles from the audience.
And as for Rocky, well if Dominic Andersen had a misspent youth it
was misspent in the gym as he displays a fine six pack in a well toned
body.
Hugh Durrant’s set is comic book style and
flexible, with revolving walls while Sue Blane’s costumes add a sort a
decadent feel to proceedings, slutty rather than sophisticated one might
say, particularly in the case of Frank and Magenta.
Nick Richings’ lighting design gives us lots of
lightning and drama as well as a whole bank of swirling spots sweeping
the audience as if searching for anyone daring to not be enjoying
themselves.
The music from the five piece band, under musical director Ben Van
Tienen, perched on a shelf in the flies at the back of the stage, was
excellent, a sound much larger than their number would suggest.
It took just 20 minutes
for everyone to be on their feet for the first Time Warp and
no time at all to get them back up at the end. This is a people’s show
and yes, it is a little crude with double entendre and, to be honest,
lots of single entendres as well. Even a maiden aunt who thought sex was
what coal came in might have worked out the bed scene was not about a
particularly restless night.
But it is all good natured crudity, nothing
sleazy about it, just good . . . lewd fun. So don your basque and
fishnets and set the Time Warp for Transsexual, Transylvania. To
18-06-16.
o the sci-fi
and horror films that populated the ranks of the B-movies from the 1940s
to the 1970s is heading, ungracefully as ever, into middle age - it is
43 on Thursday – but is still refusing to grow up.