| Ridgmar Movie Tavern 6801 Ridgmar Meadow Dr, FW.817-989-7469. |
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A D V E R T I S E M E N T
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A D V E R T I S E M E N T
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Doin’ The Time Warp ... Again
There are certain books, movies, albums, and whatnot that seem to make sense to people only at a certain age, like how The Doors, a band that hasn’t released a new record in, what, 40 years? suddenly become relevant to your average youngster once she begins, uh, expanding her consciousness or how reading The Catcher in the Rye (published in 1951) seems to be every high school freshman’s rite of passage.
The Rocky Horror Picture Show is kinda like this but different. There doesn’t seem to be any age group particular to the cult flick, only a state of mind — one whose motto could be, “Don’t dream it, be it.”
Which probably partly explains why midnight showings of the movie — which have been taking place across the globe since the film’s release in 1975 — never get old. Long as there are people, youthful or in their dotage, looking to achieve some sort of psycho-sexual freedom, there are gonna be midnight viewings of RHPS. Even in Cowtown.
Though it’s been a while, midnight RHPS shows are back, playing regularly at the Ridgmar Movie Tavern, thanks mainly to local theater troupe Los Bastardos. The nonprofit company started screening the film three years ago, booking it sporadically depending on the availability of funds and venues. But since November, the Bastards’ 30-some-odd members have consistently held shows at the Movie Tavern. The cool thing is that the group tailors specific shows to specific holidays/themes. As you could imagine, this past weekend’s iteration was, how you say, highly sacrilegious ... though no less hilarious. Call it The Passion of the Sweet Transvestite. Mustachioed he-she’s in their Sunday best, mounds of skin wrapped in leather, the evil rabbit from Donnie Darko, all shimmying atop the theater chairs to the unforgettable Richard O’Brien music. Heck, even J.C. made an appearance, replete with crown of thorns and cross.
Those Bastardos went there, all right, right up to the part where the messiah — clad in loincloth, sporting brutal lash scars, and under the burden of the crucifix — trudged down the aisle. Think it was during “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me.”
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