This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2002, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Susan called a few days ago. I knew why she was calling. It's why she always calls.

"Sean, you gotta come," Susan said, in her conspiratorial, "we're putting the band back together" voice. "It's my 15th anniversary. It's gonna be great."

Susan is luring me,

like a siren, back to our shared obsession -- the movie that thrills us like no other, the bete noire of my moviegoing existence.

Yes, if it's Halloween, it's time for "The Rocky Horror Picture Show."

Time to follow Brad Majors and Janet Weiss down that dark road toward the castle. Time to meet the alluringly strange (and strangely alluring) Dr. Frank N. Furter as he unveils his latest creation -- a muscular Adonis in gold lame Speedos. Time to "give yourself over to absolute pleasure." Time to do the Time Warp again.

Most importantly, time to break all the rules of courteous moviegoing -- throwing stuff at the people in the next row, dancing in the aisles, heckling the characters' every move, shouting so loudly and so often that you drown out the sound system.

Since its less-than-blockbuster release in 1975, "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" has enjoyed an odd history. It has been dismissed by critics, embraced by its many loyal fans, interpolated for audiences from London to Los Angeles, examined for sociological subtext, and transformed into an icon for rebellious teens (who warm to the audience anarchy) and for a generation of gay and gay-friendly moviegoers (many of whom had never seen a transvestite before, let alone one who sang about it).

Let us dispel the biggest myth about "Rocky Horror" -- that it's not a very good movie. On the contrary, Richard O'Brien's demon brainchild is a tuneful and fond send-up of '50s monster-movie kitsch, enlivened by a winking cheesiness and go-for-broke performances by Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon and even O'Brien himself. Watch it sometime on video (without someone practicing his audience lines) and see for yourself.

My first time seeing "Rocky Horror" was in 1981, my junior year of high school, in the charmingly grimy (and now, alas, closed) Magic Lantern Theatre in Spokane, Wash. Since then I have seen "Rocky Horror" in Seattle, Las Vegas and New York -- but no version tickled me more than the show they do at Salt Lake City's Tower Theatre.

Susan is the main reason why Salt Lake's "Rocky Horror" rocks. Susan first saw Rocky in 1987, at age 15, in the old Blue Mouse Theatre. Susan tells stories about the hot dogs that fell in the divide behind the stage and rotted, and the roll of toilet paper that remained lodged in the ceiling pipes no matter what they threw at it.

As emcee of the Tower's "Rocky Horror" screenings, Susan is a star performer. She knows all the lines, injects plenty of satire on Utah culture, and devises new jokes for old routines (for example, substituting a recently dead celebrity's name when Riff Raff reveals the skeleton at the start of "Time Warp"). She also has a pre-show routine that a Borscht Belt comic would envy: The 13 Guidelines for a Happy and Care-Free Life, with such helpful advice as "never hang fuzzy dice from the rear-view mirror" and "as long as you're still standing, there's no such thing as too much or too many."

Unfortunately, the last few years have not been so kind to "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." Home video made the movie more accessible. The Internet has homogenized the audience experience by spreading the same jokes everywhere, even if they didn't make sense (referencing White Castle, an East Coast and Midwest burger chain, just doesn't play out West). Repeated airings on cable TV has defanged its outlaw midnight-movie status -- heck, it even played on American Movie Classics.

Except for Sarandon -- who has an Oscar, Tim Robbins and every Hollywood role that calls for a sexy 50-year-old earth mother -- the cast has not aged well. Bostwick played the buffoonish mayor for six seasons of "Spin City." Meat Loaf had a good role in "Fight Club," but usually gets garbage like "Formula 51." As for Curry, two words -- "Family Affair."

Now comes word that Fox TV will remake "Rocky Horror" for broadcast next year. The good news is that it will be directed by Stephan Elliot, who made the wonderful Australian drag-queen movie "The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert." The bad news -- and, mercifully, it's only a rumor so far -- is that Marilyn Manson, the most charmless man in rock 'n' roll, may play Frank. (Note to Elliot and Fox: See if you can land the cast members of the recent Broadway revival -- especially Joan Jett as Columbia -- and get Curry to play the no-neck criminologist.)

The biggest change to "Rocky Horror" may be, alas, in me. I'm approaching 40, with a family and a mortgage and not enough energy to jump to the left, step to the right or do any other steps in the Time Warp.

Susan, now 30, vows to rock on forever, and will be leading the "Rocky Horror" crowds at midnight Thursday, Friday and Saturday at the Tower. As Riff Raff would say, I'll be there -- in spirit, anyway.

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Got a question about the movies? Send it to movie critic Sean P. Means: The Salt Lake Tribune, 143 S. Main, third floor, Salt Lake City, UT 84111, or e-mail at movies@sltrib.com.