Category Archives: Musicals
“If you’ve been itching for an opportunity to slip out in public dressed in just fishnet stockings, high heels and corset, you’ll be thrilled to hear that at Kino Scala they are showing The Rocky Horror Picture Show as part of this year’s Mezipatra Queer Film Festival. It’s an extra cause for celebration because this year marks the 40th anniversary of the cult classic.
By turn a musical, gaudy pastiche of 30s and 50s sci-fi monster movies, and creaky sex farce, Rocky originally bombed at the box office before being immediately picked up by a young, hip, counterculture crowd who turned late night screenings into a riotous exhibition of dress up, props, sing-a-longs and dancing in the aisles.
The story – for what it’s worth – concerns a young clean cut couple, Brad (Barry Bostwick) and Janet (Susan Sarandon), caught out one stormy night when their car breaks down. They stumble upon the spooky mansion of Dr Frank N Furter (Tim Curry), on a night of celebration – he is about to reveal to his “unconventional conventionalists” an amazing scientific breakthrough, namely building a musclebound blond hunk named Rocky (Peter Hinwood) for his own sexual pleasure…” to read the rest of this article, please click here (opens in new tab)
Sunshine on Leith is a workmanlike crowdpleaser adapted from the musical of the same name, a story of two squaddies told in large part by the songs of The Proclaimers. The game cast breezily warm the cockles and the songs serve the slender plot well before the film’s torpid mid-section gets bogged down in maudlin marital melodrama.
It will take a very hard hearted person to actually dislike Dexter Fletcher’s sophomore effort as director, but for all its good intentions, I was just hanging around for the Edinburgh duo’s two biggest hits to make an appearance by the end.
“My sex change operation got botched,
My guardian angel fell asleep on the watch,
Now all I’ve got is a barbie doll crotch,
I’ve got an angry inch!”
Hedwig and the Angry Inch is often compared to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, although the similarities are mainly superficial. Both feature outrageously towering performances from their lead actors, dressed in women’s clothing. Both are musicals adapted from the stage, and both teach us to accept ourselves – “Don’t dream it, be it.”, as Dr Frank N Furter might say.
Nobody quite spunks millions of dollars up the screen like Joel Schumacher, and his “Phantom” is a noisy, over-produced, tacky adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s noisy, over-produced, tacky musical. At least it looks like every cent ended up on the screen…
My girlfriend will occasionally stick on “Phantom” on a Sunday afternoon, and I’ll go through my usual huffing and puffing, protesting that I really don’t want to watch that shit – even though secretly I know I’m going to love it. I’m like a teenager who doesn’t want to go on the kiddie rides with his little sis, knowing full well he’ll be laughing his arse off once he gets on the teacup ride.
And, if I’m honest, I buy into “Phantom” pretty early on, from the black and white prologue featuring an auction in a burnt out opera house. One of the lots is a gigantic chandelier, and the auctioneer recalls the mystery of the Phantom of the Opera many years before…
Suddenly the screen is ablaze as the opera house reverts to it’s former gaudy glory, accompanied by that really cheesy theme which is a time warp straight back to the 80’s, with it’s organs and guitar riffs – back to the days when everyone’s mum had a Compact Disc of Webber/Rice showtunes.
I kind of like the bullying, repetitious nature of the songs – if a certain ditty doesn’t catch first time, don’t worry! You’ll hear it again seven or eight times before the film’s out, just to make sure you’re humming it for the next month.
What I really get off on is the Phantom’s underground shag pad, and the way his punt goes around the flooded passageways on a rail. I also get off on the Phantom punting along in his cloak and mask, singing, with the milky-thighed Christine in the front warbling along with him.
I like the amount of candles the Phantom uses to light up his place, even down to the miraculous gadget which ignites candles as they emerge from the jade green water surrounding the joint.
And I really love the way one passageway in the Phantom’s lair is lit by gold painted arms protruding from the walls holding candelabras. Not severed, stuffed arms, you understand – there’s really men standing the other side of the walls, sticking their arms through! Talk about crap jobs…
Casting of the Webber’s Phantom has always been a mystery to me – the original production starred Michael Crawford, still best known in Britain for his role as manchild Frank Spencer in the slapstick 70’s sitcom “Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em”.
For the big screen, LeRoux’s skull-faced Phantom is played by the rapist-faced Gerard Butler, who talks all his low notes and shouts all his high notes, and looks like he genuinely can’t wait to get his big hairy hands all over the supple Emmy Rossum. Rossum, in return, belies her tender years by giving the Phantom both barrells of a “Fuck me” stare, and wears dresses with straps that fall down every time she’s excited. We get to see a lot of Emmy Rossum’s bare shoulders in this pic.
Tacky, ridiculous, self-serious, dated, campy and spectacular – actually, when you put it in those terms, it’s hard to imagine how Schumacher could’ve done it any better. After all, Webber’s musical isn’t exactly Tosca – his “Phantom” has always been tasteless, so why not go the whole hog? Nice one, Joel!