Great night out for?
Fans of Richard O'Brien's oeuvre. Yes mumsy.

Best bit?
It's just a jump to the left...

Morning after effect?
My voice has still not returned.

Great Scott! Rocky Horror is back in the West End for a limited run with creator Richard O'Brien in the driving seat once more, though, down to age I imagine, he has taken the role of the omnipresent narrator, rather than his more energetic butler Riff Raff.

From the beginning, the theatre buzzes with excitement, people wave across the rows to other iterations of the characters, props are prepared (such as the newspaper needed for the storm scene) conversations are breaking out all around. It's going against every rule of theatre etiquette, but there is a moment of silence when the lights dim and the audience begins to shiver ... with anticipation.

Since its premiere in 1973 and subsequent film adaptation (ahem. Tim Curry in stockings), Rocky has become a cult creation, well known for drawing hoards of costumed and enthusiastic fans, ready to sing, yell and shout along with the show, eager to contribute as much as the actors to the evening's experience.

Once the floor show of this triumphant revival begins, nothing else matters but the show. O'Brien, his skinny legs clad in tight leather, receives a 5 minute standing ovation before his mouth is open, girls and guys scream with gay abandon. This is Mr. Rocky Horror meeting his public.

After the show begins proper, it carries on at breakneck pace, with tight precision from the cast. From the Time Warps to t-t-t-touch me, they expect the call-backs and expertly manage to carry on, providing us with knowing winks and nudges, keeping the show going and giving us what we want. Every song is a singalong, and in most cases, dances breaks out. Our Brad and Janet (the excellent Ben Forster and Haley Flaherty) are the straight(ish) guys to David Bedella's charismatic Frank. Striding across the stage in his platforms and corsets, his presence is commanding. He leads from the front from 'Sweet Transvestite' onwards, nailing the machiavellian grin. All of the cast deliver stellar results but even with the muscled and oiled Dominic Anderson as hunk Rocky, it's septuagenarian O'Brien who elicits the loudest reaction.

It's not easy to explain the fervor that surrounds a show such as this, with fans more rabid and friendly than I've ever encountered. I tried to think of what I was to expect, but the definite article blew away my preconceptions. The design and costume do not stringently stick to the film, if anything, O'Brien's fascination with Sci-Fi B movies is more evident here, on a smaller scale (and budget) But it succeeds in transforming the tiny Playhouse into something even bigger than the Victoria Apollo, raising the roof and much more with the encore repetition of Time Warp. I half expected the Grand Circle to collapse with the tangible amount of adoration I experienced.

In the unlikely event that someone who hasn't ever seen Rocky would stumble across this show and ask for information, I would say they would be forgiven for thinking that they'd stumbled into an elizabethan theatre. Part bawdy romp, part sci-fi movie but wholly original.

Dressed in swathes of glitter, faces caked in half a pound of makeup, and yet more glitter, my friends and I emerge on to the mean streets of Embankment with mile wide smiles, lost voices and the sense, that like Brad and Janet before us, we're not entirely sure what just happened, but we know we enjoyed the hell out of it.

Reviewed by Kitty McCarron

Opening night, September 11th, 2015
Playhouse Theatre, London
@ThisIsKittyMac

From L to R: Eddie, Brad, Janet, Columbia, Frank and Magenta