rose tint my world

My piece on Shock Treatment, the lackluster sequel to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, appears today in the New York Press. It's one of those short reviews that's damn near impossible to write, and ends up sounding like I hated the film. I didn't hate it, but I was disappointed.

I was a total Rocky Horror junkie in high school. Knew all the words to all the songs, including the audience participation bits, even though I didn't get to one of the infamous midnight screenings until early college. Shock Treatment was always a mystery, this legendary thing that none of my fellow Frankie fans had ever seen.

A few weeks back, I finally got around to watching the movie with Gayest Neil, who agreed that it just didn't work. It made me sad, I think, because it brought to mind my teenage self and the way young people idealize the unknown world. When you grow up (and wise up, Janet Weise), you eventually see that some things are better left undiscovered.