But all of you know that I can rarely stop after one word, so allow me to elaborate. Watching this debacle unfold on the small screen, I felt like Donald Trump during the recent presidential debates: every few minutes, I was compelled to audibly interject with "nope" and/or "wrong." The 1975 movie musical, adapted from the 1973 stage production, is a giddy slice of subversive, counterculture fun. It's by no means high art or perfect filmmaking, but it's so tied to a time and place -- even an entire generation -- that just thinking about a remake is borderline blasphemous, let alone actually carrying it out. I want to find the person responsible for saying this would be a good idea and force them to watch it on an endless loop for all of eternity, giving them plenty of time to think about what they've done.
The biggest problem with the new "Rocky Horror" is its sanitized, candy-coated tone, which fills every frame with entirely too much color and light for the subject matter. The original version had a more stark and muted palate, reinforcing the dark, seedy side of its dubious characters and their pointed social commentary. What made the film seem so scandalous in the '70s, mainly its crossdressing, bisexual aliens, is basically mainstream 40 years later. Even the farcical seduction scenes, which played out in the movie as identically risqué silhouettes, are now awkwardly dragged into well-lit bedrooms and lose all sense of their whimsy -- which just goes to show that television wasn't the right medium for such an undertaking. So where are all the shocking moments that will define this version for the ages? Probably in the inevitable re-remake that will emerge after a few more decades have passed.
At least the creative team had enough sense to realize that the iconic close-up of lips singing during the original's opening credits could never be bested (here, they're relegated to a reprise that plays over the end credits). As a compromise, we get an admittedly clever sequence that acknowledges both the B-movie legacy that "Rocky Horror" gently lampoons and the cult following of the film itself. A pinup-worthy usherette uses the song "Science Fiction Double Feature," with all of its references to the films of that era, to welcome and escort an excited audience into a midnight screening at a vintage theater. Tragically, it's all downhill from there. For starters, that same eager crowd is featured throughout the show, performing the traditional callbacks that are part of the live, audience participation experience. These scenes are disruptive instead of organic, especially since they only act out some of them and skip others. To be fair, the *only* time the callback worked was during "Sweet Transvestite," when the extra time that elapses for the melodramatic pause in the word "antici... pation" allowed the camera to capture the anxious reactions of each character before finally cutting to the audience for their signature exclamation of "Say it!" Otherwise, shoehorning these scenes felt like a desperate appeal to the midnight-moviegoers who made "Rocky Horror" the institution that it is today.
One of my biggest peeves is the way Rocky was dressed, both from an aesthetic and thematic standpoint. He's supposed to be this Herculean specimen of perfect physique and manhood... so they put him in baggy, knee-length gym shorts? I mean, at least they were gold and shiny, but come on! The original movie can run virtually unedited when it airs on TV, but the puritans at Fox have a problem with briefs? Celebrating the human form is central to the story, and though they finally put Rocky in a skimpy wrestling singlet for the climactic floor show song "Rose Tint My World," it's too little too late. Just one of many examples where they strive for a candid, carefree spirit that's never coherently achieved.
Even people who aren't familiar with the show have likely heard of "The Time Warp," a novelty song with accompanying dance moves. In the original film, a variety of misfits of all shapes and sizes perform the scene, and part of its charm is that their movements are close enough but still not perfectly synchronized. This time around, the polished ensemble -- which resembles a too-attractive, too-confident contingent of faux-goth Hot Topic employees -- is ridiculously precise in their choreography. It's like an Old Navy commercial on acid, and not in a fun way. In fact, the entire production seems to be on something, as revised orchestrations and vocal arrangements threaten the familiarity of these beloved songs. You would expect to see a band and possibly backup singers during a live presentation of a musical, but certainly not during a filmed version that's intended to play out as a movie. It's an odd choice to keep them visible if for no other reason than it destroys the illusion and pulls focus from the characters' big moments.
Thankfully, those moments are capably delivered by a cast with above-average singing prowess. As larger-than-life mad scientist Dr. Frank N. Furter, Laverne Cox has the right attitude and energy to step into the shoes (well, heels) of the role, but her wildly inconsistent accent is a huge distraction. No one will ever be as synonymous with Frank as the one and only Tim Curry (whose scant minutes of screen time in the small role of the narrator are still a welcome respite). In her dialogue's woefully misguided homages, Cox sounds like she's trying to mimic Curry, but for reasons unknown, she adds the lascivious affectations of Samantha Jones from "Sex And The City" and even shades of Derek Zoolander's exaggerated emphases. She already makes so much of the role her own that we could have accepted her normal speech patterns. This unfortunate dissonance spoils the rest of the sheer joy and magnetism that Cox exudes; Frank is a juicy part, and her cup runneth over.
The rest of the cast is a far cry from household-name status, but they give their all to the doomed proceedings. As straight-laced couple Brad and Janet, Ryan McCartan and Victoria Justice bring a solid amount of exasperated insecurity and breathy determination respectively. Reeve Carney appeared in another recent stage fiasco (remember all the trouble surrounding "Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark"?), but at least he has the chops to nail the sinister monotones and falsettos of handyman Riff Raff. Meanwhile, cameos from rocker Adam Lambert as Eddie and Broadway legend Ben Vereen as Dr. Scott do make a brief splash, but it's a noticeable step down from their demonstrated talents.
By the end of this broadcast (two hours has rarely felt so long), I knew there was little if any chance of redemption. Even the commercial breaks were poorly timed and often happened before scenes were finished. While I was pleasantly surprised by the inclusion of "Superheroes," a short epilogue song that was removed from the theatrical cut of the original film but later restored on special edition releases, this TV version overall came down to a disappointing reality: for everything I tried to applaud, there was something else that undermined it. For example, a brilliant aside, "I hope it's not meatloaf again," was added to the script during the dinner table scene -- a great wink at the previous Eddie, played by singer Meat Loaf. On the other hand, one of the indelible images in modern pop culture -- Frank throwing off his cloak to reveal his full corset-and-fishnet regalia -- is sullied here with an anticlimactic, assisted removal of a mask and cape that never comes close to the grand entrance that Frank deserves.
Based on the law of averages, no matter how much lipstick I put on this pig, the resulting effect statistically cancels out the entire production. I went into it with low expectations, and even those weren't met! With a little concentration and a lot of luck, maybe we can time warp ourselves to a place where the original "Rocky Horror" is the only version that exists, reigning supreme for future generations of fans to discover and embrace.
No comments:
Post a Comment