I have heard about “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” for about 29 years. My senior year, I walked home from school pretty much every day with my boyfriend, who lived about a block farther. And many of those days, he recited portions of “Rocky Horror” or Monty Python skits. Consequently, for a very long time I wanted absolutely nothing to do with either one, like how you get sick of an otherwise great song when it’s on the radio every 45 minutes.
I’ve retreated a bit from that over the years, and a few hours ago finally bit. We missed a few things — when do you throw the hot dogs? Dang, that was the spot for the urine line — but we caught on to enough to feel like part of the crowd. One of my cohorts already has resolved to go every year until he learns all the lines. He doesn’t yet know that evolution makes this impossible.
This unfolded at my very favorite movie theater, the State Theatre in downtown Bay City. I always had liked it just because it was a big old theater with wooden floors and a balcony, and I took my kids there a few times when it showed dollar movies. Then a renovation project restored its original Mayan decor — yup, Mayan. It is, as Tim Gunn might say, a lot of look. But it is fabulous.