The Rocky Horror Show – Review – Sheffield Lyceum Theatre

By Clare Jenkins, November 2024

If, like me, you’ve never seen The Rocky Horror Show before, you’ll know just how Brad and Janet feel. These wide-eyed American college innocents find themselves at a spooky old castle after their car develops a flat tyre during a rainstorm. In contrast to their ‘square’ attire (lumberjack shirt and slacks, full-skirted 50s frock), they’re met by Phantoms in Cabaret-style sequins, sparkles and tight black leather – and then by the cross-dressing, crazed scientist Frank N Furter, all black bustier, torn fishnet tights and blood-red lipstick.

Richard O’Brien’s camp rock ‘n’ roll musical started life at London’s Royal Court Theatre half a century ago, with Tim Curry as Frank. Two years later, it was made into a film (again with Curry in the lead), while the show itself has toured the world, playing to over 30 million theatregoers in places as far afield as Johannesburg, Seoul, Tokyo and Wagga-Wagga.

This latest tour, directed (as since 2006) by Christopher Luscombe, began last year, was a sell-out this year in Australia, and will continue until 2026. Who’d have thought that a weird, loud (over-loud, as ever, at the Lyceum), manic mash-up of sci-fi and horror B-movies, Soho strip joint, 50s nostalgia and 70s punk rock would become a cult classic among two – possibly even three – generations?

“Celebration”

The magnificently muscle-bound, somersaulting Morgan Jackson, playing Rocky, Frank’s Charles Atlas-style ‘creature’, might sing ‘You’re the product of another time’, but actually this show has managed to surf time. Since first showing in 1973, when one critic sneered that it was ‘only for homosexuals’, it’s evolved from revolutionary romp through to its current status as a celebration of difference and diversity in all things, including gender non-conformity.

Fans were certainly out in force last night, some of them braving Sheffield United fans outside to arrive in full Tim Curry gear. But whereas Curry’s Frank was struttingly, poutingly lascivious, Jason Donovan – reprising the role 25 years after he first performed it – is a more louche, jaded, world-weary roué. Not so much sizzlingly sexy as a mix of John Osborne’s The Entertainer (‘Why should I care? Why should I let it touch me?’) and Sunset Boulevard’s ravaged Norma Desmond. As a result, his soulful ‘Don’t Dream It, Be It’ and ‘I’m Going Home’ numbers are infused with pathos and a sense of inevitability.

From the moment he appears, back-lit by red lightbulbs and vampire-like in black velvet cloak, pearls, black lace gloves and high heels, there’s also more than a touch of Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray. But while Curry was the young Dorian, Donovan is the older version, his ‘Sweet Transvestite’ (“from Transexual, Transylvania”) sounding unsettling rather than sexually liberating. It’s an eye-catching performance, subtly dominating every scene he’s in.

“Bag of blood”

The whole show is a riot from the moment the Usherette (Natasha Hoeberigs) steps in front of the ruched satin curtain to sing Science Fiction Double Bill. When the curtain rises, there’s a wonderfully strip-cartoon-like car scene with Brad (a suitably geeky Connor Carson) and Janet (Lauren Chia, as bubblegum-sweet as she should be). And then we – and they – are plunged into a mad house party full of aliens doing the pelvic-thrusting ‘Time Warp’ dance (cue audience sway-along). They’re led by Riff-Raff, the hunchbacked handyman (Job Greuter, like a malevolent, wild-haired insect) and his menacing sister Magenta (Hoeberigs again) on the first of designers Hugh Durrant and Nick Richings’ laboratory-bright sets.

Audience participation is another important factor, and the cast handle the shout-outs admirably, with only the odd bit of corpsing. Nathan Caton’s Narrator gives as good as he gets, as probably only a stand-up comedian can, offering laconic responses to audience comments, always controlling the anarchy.

Later, Janet and Brad’s bed scenes with Frank (like Punch and Judy with transgressive sex) are as bonkers as they are bonking. Jayme-Lee Zanoncelli is a lively mix of Ruby Wax and Lisa Minelli as Frank’s red-headed ex, Columbia. And Edward Bullingham absolutely channels his inner Meat Loaf as the unfortunate Eddie, when singing ‘Hot Patootie, Bless My Soul’. The scene where he’s been reduced to a bag of blood and gore that gets thrown round the cast (before being put in the waste disposal) is perfect spoof am dram, giving the sense that everyone’s having a ball.

You may come out deafened – keep the Paracematol handy – but you can’t fail to be amused by the eccentricity and amazed by the manic energy.

‘The Rocky Horror Show’ is at the Sheffield Lyceum until Saturday, before moving continuing its tour
images: David Freeman