The Rocky Horror Show at Asheville Community Theatre

Call it camp, call it kitsch, call it burlesque in every sense of the word: The Rocky Horror Show, the 50-year-old cult classic now in a riotous revival at Asheville Community Theatre, is definitely what we Southerners call "a hoot." 

In fact, we might even call it "a hoot and a holler." After all, "hoot" comes from the Middle English "to shout." And there was plenty of shouting, hooting, whooping, cheering, and ululating opening night, starting the moment ACT Executive Director Eli Cunningham walked on stage to ask how many attendees were Rocky Horror "virgins" (not many), give a few don'ts (e.g. don't throw anything at fellow theater-goers), and a lot of do's (e.g. call out rude words whenever two characters are named).

If you've lived on planet Earth for any of the last 50 years, you probably know The Rocky Horror Picture Show — the movie version that spawned the fad for midnight showings where spectators dress in costumes, sing along, dance, talk back, and throw things at the screen.

For its stage version, ACT definitely wants you to join in on the fun. They're selling "show kits" in the lobby for $20, with confetti, sponges, playing cards, glow sticks, and other hurl-at-the-stage accouterments — and armed with these items, the Oct. 24 opening night audience was in a festive mood and ready to party. So, if you're a Rocky Horror virgin, fasten your seat belt — to quote another classic — you're in for a bumpy ride.

Both stage and film versions of Rocky Horror spoof ‘50s sci-fi movies, B-movies, plus Universal Monster pictures like Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein, and The Old-Dark House. It even begins on a dark and stormy night. 

Recent high school graduates Brad and Janet (Jon Robinson and Morgan Miller, both charming), newly engaged and still very virginal, have a car breakdown and seek shelter in a mysterious castle called Frankenstein's Place. There they are drawn into the world of Dr. Frank-N-Furter, a flamboyant, cross-dressing scientist from the planet Transsexual, Transylvania. 

Frank-N-Furter is played by Sam Greene, a Rubenesque diva who can belt like Mama Cass and bust a move like Lizzo. This mad doctor is not creating a monster but his/her ideal muscleman named Rocky. As embodied by Nick Zalewski, this Rocky is more sweet-faced gamin than gladiator. In a blond wig, gold lamé briefs, and leather chest harness, he gives a sly smile when he makes the biceps and deltoid of his right arm flex without, well, moving a muscle. When the statuesque Greene sings "I'll Make You a Man," one yearns for her to smother the diminutive Zalewski's head into her very generous cleavage.

That cleavage, along with a waterfall of bustle flounces, issues from the imagination of the costume designer Ida Bostian. She also specifies the rainbow of shiny, glittery, iridescent fabrics, and black fishnet and sheers that hug every bulge, bump, and bounce of the actor-dancers’ bodies.

After Rocky's birth, there's much gender-bending and mildly suggestive sexual shenanigans. Eventually, Frank-N-Furter is overthrown by his servants Riff Raff (Eva Campuzano) and Magenta (Sonya Keller), who blast the castle back to their home planet. Campuzano and Keller neatly change their smarmy obsequiousness for brisk menace when they come to dispatch the doctor. And costumer Bostain neatly switches out pink tulle for Star Trek-style uniforms for the voyage home.

Entertaining as the narrative and staging are, Rocky Horror's big draw is its music, and the infectious dance number "Time Warp" is the show's most famous song. The lyrics may provide their own instructions — "It's just a jump to the left / And then a step to the right..." — but choreographer Leksykhana Jordan draws such spirited energy from the cast that even the simple steps and gestures look like polished show dancing. And the tap routine she creates for veteran Disney Cruises dancer Kelli Hall, ending in a perfect split, earned some of the evening's heartiest cheers.

Miller's Janet likewise garners a roar of approval as she hits the high notes with an America's-Got-Talent-worthy rendition of "Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me," while turning the scantily clad Rocky every which way but loose.

Singers and dancers get solid backing from an accomplished ensemble of Antoine Crawford (keyboard), Josh Thorne (drums), Josh Steele (guitar), Sara Nichols (bass), and Nick Stowe (saxophone). And the decision by music director Dwight Chiles to place the musicians on the upper level of scenic designer Lucien Hinton's set puts the well-amplified singers into the right balance with the band. 

The set — a low-tech arrangement of platforms, stairs, balustrades, and Shakespearean "inner belows" — gives director MJ Gamelin ample spaces to keep his actor-singer-dancers moving briskly and purposefully throughout the evening. And Hinton cleverly solves the problem of the blast-off into outer space with lights concealed in the set.

At the end, Brad and Janet are no longer innocents, but they aren't reborn libertines, either. They've been seduced, humiliated, and awakened, but if they've glimpsed freedom, they can't quite handle it.

Is there a moral to this fable? Well, remember, when Rocky Horror erupted onto the scene in London in 1973 and onto the screen in 1975, the sexual revolution was just getting underway. Is it saying something about breaking eggs to make an omelet? Its theme, as well as its theme song. is definitely, "Don't dream It. Be It."

Fifty-plus years later, what once seemed transgressive and titillating has become another sexy offering we expect on our entertainment smorgasbord. After all, gender fluidity is as commonplace as a man's ear stud nowadays.

As such, The Rocky Horror Show may have lost its power to shock, but it can still delight. It's comfort food with edible glitter. If you like to wave a rave light and let out howls of approval, or if you just enjoy being with people who do, ACT has got the ticket for you — and, if you're so inclined, a bag of goodies to throw at this talented cast.

The Rocky Horror Show runs through Sunday, Nov. 2, at Asheville Community Theatre. For details and tickets, visit ashevilletheatre.org.

(Photo courtesy of Asheville Community Theatre)