Review: Jobsite Theater's THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW at the Jaeb - 'Don't Dream It, Be It!'

“Give yourself over to absolute pleasure!” --Dr. Frank-N-Furter in THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW

We needed this.  In a summer rocked with a truly unsettling Presidential campaign, the fear of Project 2025, and a Florida governor who ridiculously vetoed all arts funding from the state, we Floridians needed some sort of escape.  And to say that Jobsite Theater’s production of THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW at the Jaeb accomplished this overwhelmingly is indeed an understatement.

This is one of those productions that they’ll be talking about years from now--like freeFall’s The Wild Party or American Stage’s August Wilson Century Cycle, local shows that are over a decade old and still being excitedly murmured about.  THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW easily fits that bill.  I don’t recall a Jobsite show where I’ve felt this much bliss; hell, I don’t know of any recent production anywhere with so much palatable pleasure and energy.

Yes, it’s that good.   

Welcome back, Janet, from the Planet of Transsexual Transylvania if you’ve never heard of the film version, The Rocky Horror Picture Show starring Tim Curry.  What started as failed cinematic camp quickly grew a rabid cult, where the audiences famously shouted back to the screen whenever an actor paused, soon adding newspapers, squirt guns, rice and toast.  Over time, the film version landed as one of 1975’s biggest box office hits and became as famous as Jaws, Monty Python and the Holy Grail and Once Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest from the same year. It became better known for its cult than for anything actually on the screen (with the possible exception of “The Time Warp”; who doesn’t know that?). 

But it all started in the early 1970s with the stage musical.

With the book, lyrics and music by Richard O’Brien, THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW is both a send-up and a love letter to the B-movies of the 1950s and 1960s.  It’s an amalgam of schlocky Frankenstein films, sci-fi, Fifties rock n roll, juvenile delinquent biker flicks, and Glam Rock, the latter being the music du jour at the time of its creation.  Imagine a synthesis of Doctor X,  The Revenge of Frankenstein, The Old Dark House, Forbidden Planet, The Black Cat, The Wild One, Glen or Glenda and Steve Reeves muscle movies as performed by Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.  (The Jobsite folk obviously understood the David Bowie glitter connection by including his “Starman” in the pre-show music.)

But THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW is so much more than that.  It’s a treatise on sexual freedom, a plea to give in to the pleasures of the flesh.  It’s a splash of hot coffee in a puritanical age. It’s also a coming-out yawp, perfect for last month’s Pride festivities, as well as an invitation to forbidden love.  It’s an orgy of delight and an ode to pansexuality where the motto is, “Don’t dream it…Be it!”

Deemed as a “double feature picture show,” THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW follows virginal Brad and Janet, newly engaged, as their car breaks down and they wind up in Frank-N-Furter’s mysterious castle.  There, they meet freaky servants--Riff Raff, Magenta and Columbia--as well as the cross-dressing Dr. Frankenstein--Frank-N-Furter-- who’s just built himself a “perfect man” named Rocky.  Soon, much madness takes its toll, as well as several sexual peccadilloes and misunderstandings, all leading to betrayals, ray guns, and ultimately even death.   

But it’s the music, the characters and the cult (audience participation) that make this show so special.

The audience for the Jobsite production came prepared.  Many dressed up in ROCKY attire, and several bought t-shirts that were for sale ($25) and bags of playful goodies (tiny water guns, lollipops with lips, glow sticks, and birthday party hats; $10).  The crowd was a mixed lot, Millenniels and Boomers, together, ready to celebrate at the Altar of Frank-N-Furter. There was a sense of excitement in the air, like Halloween and Christmas had come early.

Before the show, artistic director David Jenkins went through the rules with the audience: Because this is live theater and not a movie, please don’t throw anything on the stage.  But viewers could call out--screaming “Where’s your neck?” to the Narrator, for instance--just don’t touch any of the performers as they navigate  through the audience.  Mr. Jenkins then pulled out his best Sal Piro imitation by leading the audience in a raucous ROCKY cheer:  “Give an R…Give me an O…Give me a C…Give me a K…Give me a Y…What’s that spell????”

And the audience, as a one, answered back: ‘ROCKY!”

“Sat it again!”

“ROCKY!!!!”

“One more time!”

“ROCKY!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

And then the show began in what may be the fastest two hours of my life.

The Jobsite cast is simply superb.

As Janet, the damsel in distress, Noa Friedman channels her inner Sandra Dee.  She plays into the camp elements of the show but never lets go of the character, the human being behind the camp.  Her “Toucha, Toucha, Toucha, Touch Me,” a plea to her sexual awakening, is marvelous.

Janet is the Virgin Princess who’s met the Nerd Prince of her dreams, Brad, played by Ryan Sturm. Although Mr. Sturm may be a bit long in the tooth for the role of Brad (especially when paired with yon Ms. Friedman), he brings so much dimension to the character, so much heart.  In his red bow-tie and horn-rimmed glasses, he resembles Willam H. Macy in Mr. Holland’s Opus.  And his voice is in top form, especially his big solo, “Once in a While,” which garnered loud applause from the audience. 

I do question a small moment early on, when in the song “Damn-It Janet,” Brad is searching his pockets for the engagement ring he’s to give to his gal, pulling out various props such as a toothbrush and (the part I question) condoms before actually finding the ring. My issue is that Brad is such a virginal blunder, a nebbish, that I wonder if he would be brazenly carrying prophylactics; does this undermine his later emerging sexual escapades?  Yes, it’s an easy laugh, but is it the right choice for the character? 

Spencer Meyers is always a joy to behold onstage, digging into his characters and owning every instance.  Here, as the tongue-wagging Riff Raff, the sinister side of the role slowly emerges throughout the production. His diabolicality is aided by his blonde Bret Michaels hair extensions and Mad-Eye Moody glares.  Mr. Meyers has such a way with a line of dialogue, a pause, that magically turns an ordinary statement into something memorably wicked. He leads a galvanizing “Time Warp,” his voice in fine shape  (I just wish more of the audience participated).  And he’s such a consummate performer and entertaining persona that even a simple run across the stage, like little tiny goosesteps, caused much mirth. “Riff Raff’s my favorite!” the lady next to me exclaimed.

Heather Krueger as Magenta once again proves why she is such an essential part of our theater community.  She works wonderfully well with Mr. Meyers’ Riff Raff and throughout the show lends some stirring vocals. 

As Columbia, Colleen Cherry once again showcases her awe-inspiring vocal range  as well as her onstage courage.  She, like the rest of the cast, doesn’t blink when diving into the more sordid side of life.  At one point, she sings “It’s a gas!” and then turns her back on the audience, bends over, and bravely mimics breaking wind.   Not every performer could accomplish this--turning a fart joke into a moment of crazed exuberance.  But Ms. Cherry isn’t every performer; she’s a one of a kind find.   

Speaking of finds, Mark Wildman is a wonder as Rocky, Frank-N-Furter’s self-made boy toy. Mr. Wildman is showman, and his sexual acrobatics in “Toucha, Toucha, Toucha, Touch Me!” are certainly eye-opening, including standing on his head. He’s wonderful in “The Sword of Damocles” (but not as easy to hear as some of the other performers), and is such a welcome addition to our theater community,   

Matthew McGee holds the show together as the rather over earnest Narrator with apparently no neck.  Looking like Paul Bartel in Eating Raoul, he makes the Narrator a character we love to watch (and banter with).  And no one is as fast on his feet, or gives better disapproving sideways stares at an annoying audience member, than Mr. McGee.  And he’s in top form here.

The likable Jayrn McCann, as both the doomed Eddie and Eddie’s uncle, Dr. Scott, is a natural comedian and so much fun to watch.  But his Eddie, at least to me, is all wrong.  He rides around in a scooter donning a scooter helmet, rather than a juvenile delinquent biker on a motorcycle; Eddie is a take-off on the leather-jacketed James Dean/Marlon Brando bad-boys of Fifties flicks, and a scooter makes him look Brad-nerdy rather than “Wild One” cool.  His wheelchair-bound Dr. Scott, dressed like an evangelical preacher and wearing what looks like a Quentin Crisp wig, interestingly speaks in a Southern drawl rather than a German accent. Mr. McCann gets lots of laughs and shows off his obvious talent (especially vocally), but oftentimes it was like a high school student playing an adult, which may be on purpose.

As the phantom ensemble, sort of Groovy Goolies as background singers and dancers, Jen Casler, William Alejandro Barba, Katherine Yacko and especially Jalyn King shine. 

And I’ve saved the best for last. 

If there is one reason to see this all-around terrific production of THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW (and there are certainly many), it’s the performance of Clay Christopher as Dr. Frank-N-Furter.  In a word: Wow!

Mr. Christopher looks ten feet tall on the stage, like Michelangelo’s David donning fishnet stockings and a string of pearls.  From the moment he enters the stage, you know you are in the presence of not only a major talent, but of a star.  He reeks of sexuality and commands the audience like few performers I have seen.  There’s no way anyone can forget Tim Curry’s iconic portrayal of Frank-N-Furter in the film, but if anyone comes close, it’s Mr. Christopher. His  vocals in “Sweet Transvestite” were off the charts, and near the end, his heartbreaking rendition of  “I’m Going Home” earned a sustained ovation where several audience members even stood to applaud. 

This is the performance we’ll no doubt be talking about for years; seeing Mr. Christopher’s  rollicking, courageous, sultry work is the reason we go to the theater.   

The live band is onstage for the duration of the show, led by the music direction of the incomparable Jeremy Douglass, and featuring Elwood Bond on drums, Kenny Walker on bass, and Mark Warren on guitar.  Special attention must be paid to Ronnie Dee, who blows one killer sax.

Katrina Stevenson’s costumes are brilliantly realized and utterly creative. Michael Horn’s set design is serviceable, with a certain sci-fi feel with the portals.  Jo Averill-Snell’s lighting is brilliantly inventive and evocative, whether  re-creating the zaps of lightning in a storm, or showcasing silhouetted sexual shenanigans behind a sheet (one of the show’s highlights), or bringing to life the strobe-lit zooming of a launching rocket ship (which might be an epileptic’s nightmare).

All of this is brought together seamlessly by director David Jenkins, who surpasses himself here. He, along with his choreographer Alexander Jones, has guided one of the most enjoyable evenings of theater in recent memory, coming at a time when we need it so desperately.  Is the show for everyone’s taste?  Probably not, especially not for the prudes or the politicians who blush (and veto arts funding) at the thought of “sexual” content.  But to those open-minded folk who aren’t squeamish about the so-called sins of the flesh, those who want to experience a show that dares to take us to the Next Level, this is one glorious production.   

THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW plays at the Jaeb Theater at the Straz Center until August 4th.  PLEASE NOTE:  Jobsite heartily encourages fans to dress up and come ready for a great time! They will sell a kit with approved props for the production that also includes bonus items like show stickers and buttons.  Any audience member disrupting the performance at the expense of overall audience enjoyment or the show’s integrity will be asked to leave and will not get a refund.   Photo credit: James Zambon Productions

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