Hunter Foster took nothing for granted in his production of “The Rocky Horror Show” at New Hope’s Bucks County Playhouse.
It’s easy to please fans of the show. The hard part is shutting them up when their interjections and heckles, “Rocky Horror” traditions or not, thud louder than the opening night rain on the Playhouse roof.
Foster, with his designers, Frankie Grande as Frank-N-Furter, Benjamin Howes as The Narrator and Dr. Scott, and Mike Bindeman as the perfect creation, have combined to find the fun, frolic, and folderol of Richard O’Brien’s 50-year-old cult classic while taking it seriously enough to present it as an honest piece of theater.
That’s the joy of this production. Sure, Foster as director and Grande as lead camp it up and make hay of the silly and sexual inherent in O’Brien’s musical, but they also take time to tell a story, capitalize on O’Brien’s wit, and entertain as seasoned troupers, as opposed to just having a romp, the sad fate of most “Rocky Horror” mountings.
Grande is terrific in all ways. His presence anchors the show. Grande brings an intensity that makes you pay attention to what Frank-N-Furter is saying and captures the drollery of it.
In addition, he’s a natural comedian and has fun with the scenes in which he, with the help of Travis McHale’s lighting, is miming sex acts, demonstrating both playfulness and experience.
In tune with Foster’s direction, Grande’s is not a throwaway performance. It is thought out, disciplined, and laudable because it establishes all the reality of which “Rocky Horror” is capable while keeping the devious Frank-N-Furter a blast.
Whoever thought a production of “The Rocky Horror Show” would have substance beyond its shtick?
I didn’t, and I’m glad to be wrong.
For one thing, in being able to listen to the songs, upon getting accustomed to the usual overamping of musicals everywhere, I heard a lot of clever references and puns within O’Brien’s lyrics. Upon listening to the script, I found some shrewd observations.
Just because Foster and Grande took care to make sure there is a play within the mayhem doesn’t mean they forgot the glitz, dazzle, raucousness, and raunchiness in “Rocky Horror.” They simply managed to make all elements of the show mesh.
I frequently criticize Hunter Foster for excesses, for not knowing when to scuttle or limit a good idea that goes too far. In “Rocky Horror,” he found his Goldilocks show.
Is this show or production “King Lear?”
Hardly. That would be overselling it.
It’s not even “Tick, Tick…Boom!” It is the right kind of lark, full of frills and intentional silliness while entertaining cunningly and thoroughly.
Everyone involved in the Playhouse’s “Rocky Horror” contributes to the success.
That extends even to the producers or whomever providing a kit with standard “Rocky Horror” props — rice, a newspaper, a rubber glove, and playing cards — to keep projectiles and debris associated with “Rocky Horror” lore under control (and more easily cleaned between shows).
I’m an actor’s critic – it’s writers and directors who have to look out – but this time I’m making the cast, even the brilliant Benjamin Howes, wait while I heap praise on the designers, who usually get short shrift.
Jeff Perri’s set, Nicole V. Moody’s costumes, Travis McHale’s lighting, Bart Fasbender’s sound, and J. Jared Janas’ hair and wigs make Foster’s stage an extravaganza of colorful glamour.
Cheesy glamour at times, but that’s only appropriate.
Perri’s set is a regular rainbow. In possible connection with McHale, Perri places lighted levers and buttons on machines to establish a palette that is bright, sparkling, and accounts for every robust crayon in the box. Doors, platforms, props, and even spooky forests are well placed, but it’s the eye-popping cornucopia of magentas, hot pinks, electric blues, etc. that turn the Bucks County stage into Joseph’s dreamcoat. The horror film posters projected before the show starts are also interesting and smart.
Utility rarely met luster more compatibly.
Moody follows suit with costumes that are bawdy, maybe naughty, but are tasteful, well-cut, and totally appropriate in their individual contexts and in keeping with the splashiness of the show. Even Rocky, the well-crafted creature Frank-N-Furter cobbles in his lab, has a Speedo in the hues of the rainbow flag.
Sparkly onesies worn by Grande and others make you grin at how amusing they are while being flatteringly sexy and right for the occasion.
Janas fulfills the dream job of creating wigs and make-up. He and Moody both have a Bob Mackie touch. Fasbender’s sound design earns laughs of its own with squeaks, shrieks, and other noises. McHale’s lighting couldn’t be more perfect. Imagine dimming and creating texture on a stage that has hundreds of reflectors, including sequins and other tinsel.
Like Grande, the cast knows its business.
Benjamin Howes comes from the school of the unflappable. As The Narrator, he had the unenviable task of being the one who sets up the plot and various situations. He personifies O’Brien’s spoof of the introductions that begin so many science-fiction films, the exposition that was spoken until George Lucas put it on a freaky scroll in “Star Wars.”
Howe’s narrator draws multiple heckles from “Rocky Horror” aficionados practiced in answering back and making what is by now time-honored commentary from the peanut gallery. He handles them with aplomb, rolling his eyes or pursing his lips but proceeding with his character’s speech.
Grande is also adept at dealing with audience ad libs. He often tops his taunters by answering back in ways that address their comments but more wittily.
Grande and Howes bring audience focus to the stage. So does Kristen Martin as Janet, as in “Dammit Janet” and “Planet Schmanet Janet.” Martin moves nicely from naïve malt shop ingenue to experimental craver of the prurient. Jason Forbach does a good job as the slower-to-come-around Brad. Alyssa Wray is succulent and shrewd as Magenta, Tim Shea bratty and gifted with a grand vocal range as Riffraff, Stanley Martin amusingly Neanderthal as Eddie, and Larkin Reilly nicely nasty and sassily sincere as Columbia.
Mike Bindeman is in a dimension of his own. If you set out to build a creature from scratch, you couldn’t do better than Bindeman, who besides being divinely built can do a handstand and act with sweet innocence, that is until his Rocky sees Janet and quickly learns carnal lust (much to Frank-N-Furter’s chagrin).
Movement and choreography, and not just of “The Time Warp,” are so key to this show and exuberant in this production, Shannon Lewis earns a bow with Hunter Foster for her joyful and dances and suggestive romantic scenes.
The Rocky Horror Show, Bucks County Playhouse, 70 South Main Street, New Hope, Pennsylvania. Through Saturday, October 28, Wednesday and Thursday, 7:30 p.m., Friday and Saturday, 7 p.m., Friday, 11 p.m., and Saturday and Sunday. 3 p.m. $78 to $98. 215-862-2121 or www.bcptheater.org.
