Rocky Horror Show review: Jason Donovan throws a non-PC party
The musical once shocked with its gender fluidity and sexual abandon. Now it’s a good excuse to put your brain in neutral and party.
Review: Rocky Horror Show, Sydney’s Theatre Royal, February 18
Fifty years ago at its West End debut, the Rocky Horror Show shocked audiences so much that they kept coming back – and have ever since.
For while the musical’s frank portrayal of gender fluidity and sexual abandon are no longer a novelty, it proved on Saturday night that it is still riotous and ridiculous fun.
The success of any particular Rocky Horror Show depends heavily on its Frank N Furter, the transvestite alien mad scientist in whose Texan lair/laboratory the action takes place. The good news is this production has a beauty in the form of Jason Donovan, unrecognisable from the clean-cut figure we knew as Scott from Neighbours, or Joseph with his amazing technicolour dreamcoat.
That was swapped out tonight for a corset and suspenders, but it was his edge of unpredictability and danger, and a voice that could handle everything from the heavy rock of Sweet Transvestite to the Broadway-style showstopper Going Home, that really made Donovan a magnet for the eye.
The music was once another of Rocky Horror’s revolutionary attractions – its embrace of glam and proto-punk stood apart in 1973. Five decades later it is just a great party playlist, with the likes of The Time Warp conjuring ’50s B-movie guilty pleasure, even if the band under Jack Earle sometimes rocked out to the point they obscured the lyrics.
Deirdre Khoo and Ethan Jones were convincingly middle-American as Janet and Brad, the preppy, newly engaged couple lured to Frank’s castle; Henry Rollo hilariously played with every horror movie trope as Frank’s deputy Riff Raff; Loredo Malcolm brought a touching innocence to Rocky, Frank’s muscle man creation; while Stellar Perry’s opening clarion call, Science Fiction, was a highlight before she brought an erotic charge to Magenta, one of the mad scientist’s many spurned partners.
TV presenter Myf Warhurst, meanwhile, did what she could with the Narrator role. One kept expecting the lines she was called on to deliver to be funnier – after all, no one was here for the plot points. Perhaps her script could have also been amended to confront the awkward issues around consent and toxic masculinity that linger in Rocky’s book. However, she was charming as always, and did get some laughs when dealing with a couple of smart-arsed hecklers.
The staging was excellent – a spaceship effect near the end was particularly impressive – while the costumes, both on the stage and on many of those in the audience, reflected the sexy and inclusive fun that Rocky Horror– the odd non-PC moment aside – still represents. Rock along to this one.