Roxy

Tim Curry revisits the Roxy Theatre and ‘Rocky Horror,’ turning 50

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The old stage at West Hollywood’s Roxy Theatre looks as small as ever to Tim Curry. Back in 1974, the actor spent nearly a year strutting across its boards in fishnets and a snug corset as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, the flamboyant, sexually ravenous mad scientist of the musical comedy “The Rocky Horror Show.”

Witnesses to that run of performances still marvel at the spectacle of Curry’s nightly entrance, as he marched from the lobby on a long catwalk, his high heels at eye level with the audience. He would then cast aside his Dracula cape to sing a personal theme song, “Sweet Transvestite.”

“It’s actually really nice to be here because it was another home for me,” says Curry, 79, looking up at the empty stage inside the Sunset Strip nightclub. “It became my stomping ground. I had to appear as though I owned it — and I kind of did.”

At the end of that same year, Curry was back home in England to shoot the feature film version, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” a rock ’n’ roll send-up of old sci-fi and horror B-movies that became both a cult classic and a vibrant symbol for sexual freedom. It is the original midnight movie and is now being feted around the world for its 50th anniversary with a second life as the longest continuous theatrical release in cinema history.

A man in drag sings a song surrounded by performers in a musical.

Tim Curry, center, as Frank-N-Furter in 1975’s “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

(John Jay Photo / Disney)

The role changed Curry’s career forever, and he will be part of some of those celebrations, beginning with a screening of a newly restored 4K version of the film, along with a panel Q&A, at the Academy Museum on Friday.

At the time of the film’s original release in 1975, it tapped into a cultural zeitgeist that mixed glamour and androgyny, akin to the era’s glam-rock movement led by David Bowie. “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” ultimately found a cult of fans who gathered for weekly midnight screenings in costume as the movie’s outlandish characters, performing as a “shadow cast” in harmony with the film onscreen.

“It was part of the sexual revolution, really,” says Curry. “Experiment was in the air and it was palpable. I gave them permission to be who they discovered they wanted to be. I’m proud of that.”

Since a stroke in 2012, the actor has been in a wheelchair and most of his work has been in voiceover. He did appear on camera in a 2016 remake of “Rocky Horror” for television, this time as the criminologist. But it was as the lascivious, self-confident Frank-N-Furter that Curry made history.

On this afternoon, he is dressed in black, auburn hair slicked back. In the Roxy’s lobby is a portrait of Curry in character as the mad doctor in pearls. It was a role he originated in London, on the tiny stage upstairs at the Royal Court Theatre, where it first became an underground sensation.

“Even for the time, there was a lot of courage that went into that performance,” remembers Jim Sharman, who directed Curry in the original stage productions in London and Los Angeles and then onscreen. “Tim himself was actually a kind of quiet intellectual offstage, but onstage he really knew how to let it rip.”

A crazed doctor is flanked by nurses in masks.

Curry, center, in “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

(Disney)

With a story and songs written by actor Richard O’Brien, who also played the skeletal, sarcastic Riff-Raff, “Rocky Horror” begins with a young couple caught in a rainstorm who approach a mysterious castle in search of shelter and a phone.

Played by then-unknowns Susan Sarandon and Barry Bostwick, the couple find Frank-N-Furter is hosting a convention of partying aliens in formalwear from the planet Transsexual in the galaxy Transylvania.

The mad doctor is also anxious to show off his latest experiment, the creation of a perfectly formed male, a personal plaything of chiseled muscles and blond hair, as he sings “I Can Make You A Man.” The scene leaves an impression.

“He takes no prisoners — it’s his world and you just happen to live in it,” Curry says with a smile of his Frank-N-Furter. “He doesn’t leave much air in the room. And I enjoyed that because it was so not like me, really.”

Notably, the film shares a 50-year anniversary with “Jaws,” and Curry remembers someone at 20th Century Fox placing newspaper ads that year for “Rocky Horror” with the film’s glossy red lips image and words promising, “A different set of jaws.”

“Jaws,” of course, was a record-breaking summer blockbuster, but as the longest-running theatrical release of all time, “Rocky Horror” really has no competition in terms of impact. It helped establish a culture for midnight movies in open-ended rotation, from David Lynch’s “Eraserhead” to Paul Verhoeven’s “Showgirls.”

At the customary hour of midnight, the restored 4K film will be premiering across the country this weekend, with special screenings and Q&As on Oct. 4 at Hollywood Forever Cemetery and Oct. 15 at the Grammy Museum. The film will then be rereleased on Blu-ray on Oct. 7, with a reissue of the official soundtrack album on Oct. 10.

Also landing in time for the celebration is a new documentary, “Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror,” directed by Linus O’Brien, son of “Rocky Horror” author and composer Richard O’Brien. The 90-minute film explores the making of the movie, the original stage musical and the decades of fan culture that followed.

“When a work of art survives this long, it’s working on many different levels,” says the younger O’Brien, who was a toddler on the set. “You want to live in that house and have those naughty experiences. [People] will be talking about it long after we’re all dead.”

The “Rocky Horror” journey from underground theater to feature film began after Los Angeles music impresario Lou Adler saw the show during a trip to London. Known as a manager and record producer (Carole King’s “Tapestry”), Adler was shaken from his jet lag, instantly recognizing “Rocky Horror” as a potential attraction for his recently opened L.A. club, the Roxy. Within two days, Adler signed a deal to host its U.S. premiere.

At the Roxy, the show was an immediate sensation, fueled by Curry’s wildly charismatic performance. Opening night brought out a crowd that included Jack Nicholson, John Lennon and Mick Jagger. L.A. Times theater critic Dan Sullivan compared Curry to various Hollywood grande dames (Joan Crawford and Bette Davis, among them).

“It was one of the great parties of all time,” Adler recalls during a video call from his home in Malibu. “The acceptance was unbelievable.”

Talk of turning the stage musical into a movie soon followed and a deal was made with 20th Century Fox, with producers Adler and Michael White guaranteeing delivery on a modest budget of about $1 million.

“I don’t know if 20th Century Fox ever understood the film,” Sharman says with a laugh, in a video call from Australia. “They might’ve been relieved that it was going on a low budget and being made on somebody’s lunch money.”

It was the first feature film for many of them. But Adler and White insisted on keeping the stage musical’s creative team together, including Sharman, costume designer Sue Blane and production designer Brian Thomson. With Curry firmly in the lead role, most of the cast members were drawn from the London production. Joining them were American actors Sarandon, Bostwick and singer Meat Loaf.

“I adored her,” Curry says of Sarandon. “She was a witty girl and so beautiful, and a real actress, I thought. You could tell that she had something.”

He also became friends with Meat Loaf, who appeared in the small but impactful role of Eddie, bursting out of a freezer on a motorcycle long enough to sing the manic “Hot Patootie, Bless My Soul.” In 1981, Curry hosted “Saturday Night Live” and appeared with Meat Loaf in a skit that had the actors selling “Rocky Horror” memorabilia. (Curry is still irritated by that one: “Dreadful.”)

A man in shades sits below purple lights.

Lou Adler, photographed at the Roxy in West Hollywood in 2023.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

“When the movie was a definite thing, there were several big stars who wanted to play the part,” Curry remembers. “Mick Jagger wanted to play it and he would’ve done a great job if you saw ‘Performance.’ But [director Sharman] said he wanted me to do it. I don’t think the studio was happy that he turned down Mick.”

Though Sharman was a very experienced stage director, he had made only one previous film, a 16mm feature called “Shirley Thompson vs. the Aliens.” For “Rocky Horror,” he says he was aiming for “a dark version of ‘The Wizard of Oz.’” He was also inspired by old B-movies and German Expressionism along with lessons learned from the stage. Interior scenes were shot at the old Hammer horror films’ Bray Studios just outside London.

“The reason we don’t have great anecdotes from the shoot is we didn’t have time for anecdotes,” adds Sharman. “It was shot in five weeks.”

Bostwick, appearing in one of his first film roles, remembers, “It felt like a very low-budget but colorful, bright and inspiring musical. You knew from the moment you were around the sets and costumes and lighting and makeup and camera people that they were at the top of their game.”

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show” evolved in some subtle but meaningful ways in its transition from the stage. For the live performances, Curry did his own makeup. “In the theater, I made it look a lot more amateur, deliberately, like he wasn’t good at it but was making a brave attempt and didn’t care much,” Curry says with a laugh. “In the play, it was just a lot trashier.”

For the film, French makeup artist Pierre La Roche was recruited to refine Frank-N-Furter’s exterior. La Roche had previously worked with Bowie during the Ziggy Stardust era.

“He was indeed very French,” says Curry, campily. “He was brilliant.”

An early sign of the challenges the movie would face arrived at an early screening of the completed film for Fox executives. Curry was there with Adler. “You could touch the silence at the end,” recalls Curry. “It wasn’t a very alive audience. There was really no reaction at all.”

Fox also hosted a test screening in Santa Barbara. The audience was a local mix of retirees and university students, and many of the older filmgoers began heading for the exit, until the theater was nearly empty.

But as Adler and a young Fox executive named Tim Deegan sat on the curb outside, they also met young people who were excited about the film. Adler credits Deegan for finding the “Rocky Horror” audience in an unexpected place: indie theaters at midnight.

Its second life began at the Waverly Theater in New York, where it began evolving into a happening that was both a movie and a theatrical experience. At the time, Curry happened to live within walking distance of the Waverly.

“It was a sort of guaranteed party,” he says of any potential moviegoer. “And if he didn’t bring a date, he could perhaps find one.”

On a recent weekend at the Nuart Theater in West L.A., barely five miles away from the Roxy, it’s approaching midnight and the lobby is filled with fans and volunteer shadow performers in “Rocky Horror” drag. Appearing as Frank-N-Furter is Kohlton Rippee, 32, already in his heels and makeup.

Like many here, he sees the film as both an outlet and a connection to a found family — a way “to see aspects of themselves represented in ways that they don’t see from traditional media. It’s like, ‘Oh, I can see myself in this and find this weird community to be around.’”

Bostwick first heard of the film’s second life from others and word trickled in that his every appearance onscreen was met with an affectionate callback from the crowd: “Ass—!” He didn’t see the phenomenon himself until later at the Tiffany Theater on Sunset.

“What do they say, that Disneyland is the happiest place on Earth? I’ve always thought that a Friday and Saturday night at a theater at midnight was the happiest place on Earth,” the actor says of the many raucous screenings he’s witnessed. “Everybody was just having a ball.”

After Walt Disney Co.‘s 2019 acquisition of 20th Century Fox, it turned the House of Mouse into the unlikely steward of “Rocky Horror.” Back in 1975, nothing could have been further from the Disney brand than a rock ’n’ roll musical about a cross-dressing scientist. That year, Disney released “The Apple Dumpling Gang.”

“I guess Walt is kind of revolving in his grave,” Curry jokes.

Even so, Adler says Disney has been a good partner on “Rocky Horror” and is supporting the multiple official anniversary events. “Walt was a breakthrough guy,” the producer notes. “He broke through and made a mouse a hero. So, in a way, he had his own Frank-N-Furter.”

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Lenny Pearce’s baby rave: dancing toddlers, glow sticks and bass drops

Natalie Z. Briones is a concert veteran. She’s been to heavy metal concerts and a punk music festival where she napped most of the time. On Sunday, she attended her first baby rave.

Natalie is a few months shy of two. In the arms of her dad, Alvin Briones, 36, the pigtailed toddler squealed “Hi!” to anyone passing by the Roxy Theatre in West Hollywood where the Briones family was lined up to meet Lenny Pearce, the mastermind behind Natalie’s favorite song, “The Wheels on the Bus.”

A father and his daughter with face paint at a rave.

Natalie Z. Briones, held by her father Alvin Briones, sports rainbow face paint at the baby rave.

(Elizabeth Weinberg / For The Times)

It’s not the classic version most parents sing while slowly swaying and clapping — Pearce’s rendition rages with enough bass to rattle rib cages. Natalie is here for it, and so is her mom, Alondra Briones, who plays the techno remix during her drives to work even without Natalie in the backseat.

“It’s a pick-me-up,” said Alondra, 28, from Compton, before filing into the theater with other parents and caregivers for an afternoon rager with their kids.

In Pearce’s techno remixes of classic children’s music, an unexpected subgenre is taking off — toddler techno — which melds the cloyingly sweet lyrics of songs like “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” with the edgy beat drops associated with music from gritty warehouse parties.

The unlikely musical pairing creates a bridge between parents like Sandra Mikhail and her 6-year-old daughter, Mila. Both dressed in fuchsia at Pearce’s dance party, the mother-daughter duo were there to celebrate Mila’s promotion from kindergarten. In their Riverside home, Pearce’s music is on heavy rotation.

Babies and toddlers at a rave.
Babies and toddlers at a rave.
Babies and toddlers at a rave.

Children squeal in delight at the baby rave at the Roxy as Kuma the money, Lenny Pearce’s sidekick, hypes up the crowd.

“I can handle kids’ music now,” said Sandra, 38. “With the beat and [Pearce] adding that techno touch to it, it makes me able to tolerate listening to it all day long.”

For the last year, Pearce has been hosting sold-out dance parties boldly called baby raves — first in his native Australia — then on the first leg of his U.S. tour, which culminated in a June 29 double-header at the Roxy.

In the afternoon show timed for that sweet spot many parents know well — post-nap and right before the evening witching hours — Pearce pranced, high-fived kids and waved at babies being hoisted in the air.

Babies and toddlers at a rave.

Lenny Pearce vibes with the crowd at his sold-out show at the Roxy.

(Elizabeth Weinberg / For The Times)

At 34, he’s been an entertainer for most of his life. Over a decade ago, he was dancing in music videos as a member of the Australian boy band, Justice Crew. Now, he’s firmly affixed in his dad era. His dance partner is now a large balloon spider named Incy Wincy.

“I’m just being a dad on stage,” said Pearce in a video interview from New York. “I can make a clown of myself to entertain kids.”

From boy band to toddler techno

Babies and toddlers at a rave.

Lenny Pearce uses props during his shows, including an inflatable duck.

(Elizabeth Weinberg / For The Times)

Pearce’s journey into children’s entertainment seemed preordained, if only because his identical twin brother is arguably the second most famous purple character on a children’s TV show (behind Barney, of course).

“We’re both in the toddler scene,” said John Pearce, the older twin by minutes, who in 2021 joined “The Wiggles” cast as the Purple Wiggle. “[My brother’s] stuck with it for a long time, and it’s all paid off now.”

At the Roxy, many parents and caregivers said they found Pearce through the Purple Wiggle. Others discovered him on social media: He has more than 2 million followers on TikTok and more than 1 million followers on Instagram.

Before becoming children’s entertainers, the Pearce brothers were members of Justice Crew, a dance troupe that won “Australia’s Got Talent” in 2010. For a few years, the boy band’s future burned white hot with the aspiration to break through in the U.S. — a dream that never materialized.

Babies and toddlers at a rave.

Lenny Pearce started making what he calls toddler techno music after his daughter was born in 2022. As a dad, he says he’s happy to act silly for kids.

Most boy bands have a finite time in the spotlight, said Pearce. In 2016, he quit the Justice Crew to focus on DJing and music production, but the transition from boy band to toddler techno didn’t happen overnight. For a time, he worked as a salesperson at an Australian electronic store.

“People were like, ‘Aren’t you from Justice Crew?’” he said. “And I’m like, ‘Yeah. Now, do you want this lens with that camera?’”

In 2022, becoming a dad to his daughter Mila changed the course of his creativity. Pearce started remixing children’s songs with “ravey” music and filming himself dancing with her to the songs. Soon, other parents started sharing videos of their kids dancing to his songs, too. In this way, social media allows for ideas to be refined until something sticks.

In March, Pearce released his first solo album aptly titled, “Toddler Techno.”

All along the way, he imagined playing these songs at mini raves. For this generation of kids and their millennial parents, it’s not a stretch, said Pearce. Pretend DJ tables are just as commonly sold in toy aisles as construction trucks.

In the fall, Pearce and his baby raves will return to the U.S. — and, yes, to L.A. — in a 30-city tour. As a solo artist, he’s done what he couldn’t do in a band — he’s broken through to the U.S. and international audiences.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” said Pearce. “I always felt like I had something to say, but no one really listened.”

But are techno parties OK for kids?

Babies and toddlers at a rave.

Many attendees at the baby rave were wearing ear covers.

(Elizabeth Weinberg / For The Times)

The roots of techno — in Detroit or Berlin depending on whom you talk to — were always antiestablishment, said Ambrus Deak, program manager of music production at the Los Angeles Film School.

“It was exploratory,” said Deak, a longtime DJ who went by DJ AMB, about techno.

Toddler techno plays with that contrast — an edgy genre made safe for kids. Deak would not attend a baby rave — “It would be very cringe for me,” he said — but sees the appeal.

“I can definitely see a lot of people being into it,” said Deak, 48.

Still, not everyone is sold on the idea of taking kids to a rave — even one held in the middle of the day with a face-painting station. In the comments of Pearce’s social media posts, parents occasionally debate the appropriateness of exposing kids to drug-addled rave culture.

“I know that most people would say, ‘Is this the image we want to teach our kids?’” said Pearce. “What image are you imagining? Because if you think about it, they’re just kids with light sticks, right?”

He gets the concern, but kids don’t know about the darker sides of raves unless they are taught. And that’s not what his baby raves are about.

In the right dose, some experts say techno music and baby raves can be beneficial for kids and parents.

“Parents’ happiness and stress regulation also matter,” said Jenna Marcovitz, director of the UCLA Health Music Therapy program. “Techno can promote oxytocin and boost endorphins. It can encourage joy and play and really support brain development, emotional regulation and really enhance the parent-child bond as well.”

At the Roxy, one man vigorously pumped his fist to the beat of the music.

“Fist pump like this!” he shouted to the child on his shoulders. Both fists — little and big — jabbed the air.

How to keep it safe and sane

Babies and toddlers at a rave.

Glow sticks were a popular accessory at the event.

(Elizabeth Weinberg / For The Times)

Everything — especially baby raves — should be enjoyed in moderation. The pulsating music, giant inflatables tossed into the crowd and sudden blasts of fog can overstimulate kids.

For the roughly one-hour show, the music is loud. Typically set to 85 to 90 decibels, Pearce said. Having a sensory support plan is key, said Marcovitz, who recommends toddlers wear headphones with a noise reduction rating of 20 to 30 decibels or higher — like this one or this one. Practicing dance parties at home, so your child knows what to expect, is also helpful.

At the rave, look for signs of overstimulation, which can present differently with each child — some might shut down while others might start shoving each other mosh pit-style. At the Roxy show, one toddler sat down, ate half a bag of Goldfish crackers and poured the rest on the floor. Another disappeared into the crowd for a few alarming moments before being returned by a good Samaritan.

Babies and toddlers at a rave.

Toddlers crawl and lay down amid the crowd at the baby rave.

(Elizabeth Weinberg / For The Times)

“For any child, I would recommend breaks every 30 minutes,” said Marcovitz. “Step outside.”

Because techno hypes people up — even little kids — it’s important to help a child regulate their nervous system back down after the show.

“Lots of cuddles, silence and hugs,” said Marcovitz.

Pearce also starts the party late, so the dance party before the rave can tucker kids out before he takes the stage.

Ashley and Todd Herles drove from Santa Clarita to the Roxy so their son, Oliver, 3, could meet Pearce before the show. They said they bought $120 VIP tickets, which included a meet and greet and table seats where Oliver got to high-five Kuma, Pearce’s dancing sidekick in a turquoise monkey suit. For Pearce’s November 23 show at the Novo in downtown Los Angeles, ticket prices currently range from $48 to $195, fees and taxes included.

Overall, Oliver loved it — until he didn’t.

“[The] meltdown happened around 1:40 so we left then,” said Ashley, 40.

They had big post-rave plans to refuel with french fries. But Oliver was tired.

And, most importantly?

“Our backs hurt,” said Ashley.

A baby holding two glow sticks.

Children bopped along to the music from atop their parents’ shoulders during the dance party.



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