If you’ve been to a screening of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” the 1975 cult film starring Tim Curry, chances are you’ve thrown toilet paper, shot a water gun or yelled crude epithets at the characters while singing along to the movie’s infectious rock numbers.
But you wouldn’t approach a theatrical version of the musical with the same lack of inhibition — or would you? That’s the question that Sam Pinkleton, the director of “The Rocky Horror Show” on Broadway at Studio 54, a revival of the original musical, has been navigating since previews began late last month.
Core to the fandom surrounding “Rocky Horror” is a series of “callbacks” or “call outs,” in which audience members shout along with or in response to dialogue — a tradition that originated with the film but bleeds over into theatrical productions. The audience participation at the start of the Broadway run, Pinkleton said, was so disruptive that the show has had to take steps to tame unruly crowds, including adding signage in the lobby reminding theatergoers they were not at a movie and a new section to its website urging fans to “choose your call outs carefully.”
It’s a delicate balance: reining in raunchy one liners tossed out by emboldened fans without sucking the fun out of the event.
“It’s not like I want to punish you and tell you how to act,” said Pinkleton, who last year won a Tony Award for directing Cole Escola’s “Oh, Mary!” “I just think it’s amazing if we can consider that there’s 1,000 people in a room and there’s live people onstage, and before you do anything, whether it’s scream a line or shush somebody or sing along, consider what that is adding to the experience.”
“Rocky Horror” began as live theater. The musical, written by Richard O’Brien, debuted in London in 1973 to much success, and moved to Broadway in 1975, where it lasted just one month before flopping to a close. But the story took on a cultish second life when the film premiered later that year. It has played continuously in theaters for over 50 years, making it one of the longest-running theatrical releases in movie history.
At screenings — often at midnight or on Halloween — fans dress as the creepy, hunched-over butler, Riff Raff, or in full Frank-N-Furter leather and garter belts. Some perform as a “shadow cast” in front of the screen. Callbacks are timed to fit within the movie’s pauses, with a cadence that keeps them from overlapping with the audio.
For example, anytime the character Brad, the decidedly square college graduate, is mentioned by his full name, the audience calls out a stronger word for jerk. For Janet, the audience yells “slut.”
These call outs, the “classic” ones, Pinkleton said, are “additive to the experience.”
But with the beginning of previews came the “hard-core” fans and a rowdier reaction than the production expected, said Luke Evans, who plays the pleasure-seeking, corseted alien scientist from Transylvania, Frank-N-Furter.
“It was like there was a callback every time I took a breath,” he said.
Some aren’t callbacks at all — mentions of Donald Trump, niche New Jersey jokes — but rogue disruptions by agitators capitalizing on a relaxed theater etiquette.
“It just sounds nasty and heckling,” Evans said.
The audience interaction made it difficult at times to parse out the actors’ lines from the shouts. At worst, the cross talk left patrons confused about the movie’s and show’s traditions.
The production, however, is not without moments for the audience to join in on the fun. In “Time Warp,” two audience members are brought onstage to “jump to the left” alongside the performers. Dancing in your seat is an encouraged act of joy.
The production has implemented a few changes to keep disturbances to a minimum. On the second night of previews, a sign was installed in the lobby to remind everyone that the performance was “live theater, not a movie.” And along with the usual warnings of cellphone usage, that message is repeated in a recording read by Rachel Dratch (as the narrator) before the show starts.
In the first week of previews, Pinkleton also delivered a preshow speech in which he asked everyone to introduce themselves to their neighbor. The audience became invested not only in having a nice time, he said, but also in the experience of those around them.
“It was really amazing to feel that the audience was like, ‘I’m actually not an anonymous person in a dark theater screaming at a screen,’” Pinkleton said. “And that’s what’s special about coming to see this on Broadway.”
These measures seem to be working. At a recent performance, the audience members — many dressed in feather boas, fishnets and tiny hats, inspired by the character Magenta’s small white maid’s cap — were engaged but respectful.
In one scene, Frank-N-Furter shows off his new hunk of a creation, Rocky, and asks Brad and Janet for their impressions.
When Janet, in utter fidelity to her fiancé, Brad, says, “Well, I don’t like men with too many muscles,” a man nearby in the mezzanine quietly muttered the callback: “Just one big one.”
But not everyone wants the soft-spoken version.
“I mean, I want more,” said Kyle Riedinger, who was visiting from Connecticut. “I thought they would be a little more lively.”
Riedinger, 30, knows both the script and the callbacks, having played multiple characters in community theater productions.
“I’ll say the ones that people know, because it’s funny,” he said. “But there’s certain ones where I know them and I want to say them, but I say them under my breath. Because you also want to be respectful to those who are just paying money to see the show, too.”
It’s a different tone from the 25th-anniversary production on Broadway in 2000, which encouraged call outs, dancing in the aisles and even sold “audience participation kits” for $10.
“Every single thing they did at the movie itself, they were doing that to us on the stage,” said Lea DeLaria, who played Eddie and Dr. Scott in that production. “It was just a free for all,” she added, laughing.
Two patrons, she said, brought in a 10-pound bag of rice — each — and threw it onstage during the wedding scene. Another brought in a Super Soaker water gun and saturated Alice Ripley, playing Janet. Her wig stuck to her face.
Interruptions haven’t reached that level in this production, thanks in part to the show’s triage during previews.
“We’re creating a big bubble of encompassing everybody,” Evans said. “And hoping everybody can have a good time.”
Rachel Sherman reports on culture and the arts for The Times.
The post You Don’t Yell at a Broadway Show. But What if It’s ‘Rocky Horror’? appeared first on New York Times.
