It's astounding. Time is fleeting.

The first time I remember seeing The Rocky Horror Picture Show, I was twelve years old. We had successfully managed to beg, whine, cajole, and generally be annoying little brats, and Lucy's mom had agreed to rent it for us—a movie that had already taken on truly cult status in the hearts and minds of middle school girls everywhere. We'd heard older teens talk about it, and now, at long last, we were going to see it.

If you ever want to make absolutely sure a movie lives up to the hype, make sure you show it to a group of twelve-year-olds after they've spent the entire afternoon gorging themselves on pizza and sugar. Seriously. Every line was poetry, every song was the music of the spheres, and every fishnet-covered body part was a revelation (I hadn't even known you could put fishnets on some of those body parts). I walked away obsessed with all things Rocky. I acquired the photo "novelization" of the movie, a book on the history of Rocky Horror, and a copy of the score. I begged until my grandmother bought me the soundtrack from the stage show. I developed a real fondness for fishnets.

As the years stacked up and I plummeted into my teens, I began going to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show almost every Saturday night at the UC Theater in Berkeley, where Indecent Exposure was the standing cast. I dutifully learned all the call-backs and dance routines. I bought cast T-shirts and learned to put on pancake makeup. I even started making my own sequined applique patterns, and designed my own Transylvanian costume* from scratch. I pan-handled for quarters to pay my admission. I dragged my friends. I sat up all night in IHOP, talking about this movie which was a shared experience and a shared community for all of us.

If you've never been a Rocky fan, it was sort of like being a Browncoat, only sluttier and with more sing-alongs.

I'm older now than I was then; I no longer have the time to devote three nights a week to being part of a specific fandom. But I miss it. I really do. I miss the feeling of community, the in-jokes that we were happy to explain to anyone who said they wanted to join, the ticket stubs and the smell of damp velvet and the after-movie donuts at the cheapo donut stand down the block. I miss sewing canvas backing into my lingerie and calling it "outerwear." But most of all, I miss the moment when the whole theater would be chanting "LIPS! LIPS! LIPS! LIPS!" and the lights would go down, and for two sweet hours, the world would start making sense.

Madness takes its toll. Please have exact change ready. This moment of nostalgia brought to you by tonight's Rocky-themed episode of Glee, which will be watched by twelve-year-olds, and which brings my world full-circle.

Let's do the Time Warp again.

(*My hand-sequined tuxedo coat was one of the things I lost when we lost our entire storage unit the year I turned seventeen. I scoured yard sales and flea markets for years, hoping it would show up. It had a sequined applique of a teddy bear dressed as a Transylvanian on one sleeve, and one of a doll whose hair matched the way I always styled mine on the other, and it was battered and odd and I loved it. I still miss that jacket, even if I don't do Rocky anymore.)

Tags: at the movies, contemplation, fandom, geekiness, too much tv

Cards for Sorrow; Cards for Pain

whiskeychick

October 26 2010, 16:00:30 UTC 6 years ago

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My late teen-early 20s years were also filled with Saturday nights of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I lost count all the times I got beamed in the head with toast. I didn't go the sequin clothing route (I wasn't that bold), I just dressed in black with Hot Red lipstick. But, I did have a courier bag with a sequined set of lips on it that I dragged in all my "props." I don't know what happened to that bag. I would love to have it again, though, for nostalgia's sake. I wonder if today they let folks bring umbrellas, rice, newspapers, water pistols (oh the horror) and toast and all that nonsense into the theatre?

Re: Cards for Sorrow; Cards for Pain

beable

October 26 2010, 17:48:42 UTC 6 years ago

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The theatre that used to show it in my town when I was in HS used to implement searches at the door to keep stuff out. This pretty much only kept out the low-hanging fruit (the true rocky virgin experience was being knowledgeable enough to bring stuff - and then to lose it all at the door), and as long as you had some basic smuggling skills you could bring in whatever you wanted.

They eventually "for-reals" banned lighters after some dweeb set the upholstery on fire. I think that might have been the same showing that one of my classmates lit up a strip of magnesium for the light, but he was far enough away from the theatre seating not to burn anything other than possibly his shoes.

They stopped showing it when some dweeb threw a toaster at the screen rather than toast. I'm surprised they didn't stop showing it when someone threw a hot dog (w/bun, and fully dressed), but that might have been what caused them to institute searches in the first place.

Another theatre took over showing it, but now they usually just do a Hallowe'en show, and there's a regular cast that takes responsibility for cleaning up the theatre afterwards.

Re: Cards for Sorrow; Cards for Pain

tibicina

6 years ago

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It's astounding. Time is fleeting.

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Cards for Sorrow; Cards for Pain

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I'm coming home

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