When people find out I have a sister, they ask if we are alike. As a Xennial, I turn to the MTV animated series “Daria” to explain our dynamic. I’m the sarcastic title character in grunge wear and she’s the younger sister Quinn, her complete antithesis, in a pink crop top with plenty of eye rolls and sighs to spare for her older sister.
Then I use another pop culture reference: “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Tim Curry, the actor who starred in the cult classic musical as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, died Tuesday at 80.
And in “Rocky Horror,” Curry gave life to more than a creation named Rocky — he built the foundation of my friendship with my sister.
Long before I ever learned the steps of the Time Warp, I was a child who was enamored with Curry. He starred as the butler Wadsworth in 1985’s “Clue.” My mom taped it when it first aired on cable a couple of years later and since it was based on a beloved board game, I was invested. I found the movie, and Curry’s performance in particular, so hilarious (murders in a creepy mansion did not faze me, I was also a “Murder, She Wrote” fan) that I watched it every weekend for a year. I still remember sitting in front of the VCR to press the rewind button to rewatch my favorite part — when Wadsworth explains the crimes.
You know that campy video with the terrible special effects of Curry singing “Anything Can Happen on Halloween” that resurfaces every fall? Yeah, “The Worst Witch” was another taped-from-the-Disney-Channel special in my rotation.
My sister Andrea, who is 5½ years younger, never really watched these with me — although you could argue that nobody could escape the constant “Clue” viewings in our house. We had little in common except the sisterly urge to irritate each other and our daily detente to watch “Saved by the Bell” for an hour after school.
The 20th anniversary of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” changed that. On Halloween night in 1995, the musical comedy aired on TV for the first time, as part of a celebration on VH1.
Freshly turned 15, I had finished handing out candy to the neighborhood kids and Andrea had already returned from trick-or-treating when Patricia Quinn’s red lips showed up on the black screen as “Science Fiction/Double Feature” began to play. We sat on the couch, enraptured until “Time Warp” compelled us to jump to the left and step to the right.
Then, with the foreboding intro and the tapping heel of a bedazzled platform pump, the delicious reveal of Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter singing “Sweet Transvestite” cemented that this experience would bond us for life.
(In hindsight, even watching the edited-for-TV version of “Rocky Horror” was probably a bit much for a 9-year-old, but the ‘90s were a different time and the adult themes went over her head.)
At some point we taped it and much like my “Clue” obsession, Andrea and I would watch and perform the first 30 minutes of the movie in the family room, sometimes multiple times a day — our very own shadow cast even though we had no midnight viewing to attend together.
We still fought, but it was arguing over who got to play Frank-N-Furter first, using a woven beige cotton throw blanket around our shoulders — a decidedly less fabulous cape than the black and silver satin one Curry wore — to dramatically toss off at the first chorus of “Sweet Transvestite.” We studied the choreography, mimicking his strut to the ballroom stage, the hip swivels, the disco arm roll as he sings about getting Brad and Janet a satanic mechanic. I am forever envious that Andrea can mimic Curry’s raised eyebrow.
We finally bought it on VHS so we could watch the unedited version without commercials.
While “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” was magical to us, it wasn’t magic. Andrea and I still clashed, as vastly different Type-A sisters do. But every year on Halloween, we made an effort to watch the film together. Since we live on opposite coasts, streaming has made this much easier.
For my 40th birthday, in the throes of the COVID-19 shutdown, Andrea persuaded our parents and our husbands that I needed a Cameo from Meat Loaf, who played Eddie, since we couldn’t get together to celebrate. Her instructions to him included a request to wish me a happy birthday “Rocky Horror”-style. The result was a 23-minute-long heartfelt video that was so funny at times that I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. He talked about meeting Curry at the Roxy when they were bringing the show to the U.S. and how taken aback he was to see him in character.
For Andrea’s 40th birthday earlier this year, I repaid the favor and requested a video for her from Nell Campbell, who portrayed Columbia, in which she talked about sisterhood — and “Rocky Horror,” of course.
When the news broke Wednesday of Curry’s death, Andrea and I immediately texted each other about our shared grief.
Then we started making plans to honor him the best way we know how — by watching “Rocky Horror” together this weekend. I have a fancier fleece blanket that should work nicely for Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s cape.
When people find out I have a sister, they ask if we are alike. As a Xennial, I turn to the MTV animated series “Daria” to explain our dynamic. I’m the sarcastic title character in grunge wear and she’s the younger sister Quinn, her complete antithesis, in a pink crop top with plenty of eye rolls and sighs to spare for her older sister.
Then I use another pop culture reference: “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Tim Curry, the actor who starred in the cult classic musical as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, died Tuesday at 80.
And in “Rocky Horror,” Curry gave life to more than a creation named Rocky — he built the foundation of my friendship with my sister.
Long before I ever learned the steps of the Time Warp, I was a child who was enamored with Curry. He starred as the butler Wadsworth in 1985’s “Clue.” My mom taped it when it first aired on cable a couple of years later and since it was based on a beloved board game, I was invested. I found the movie, and Curry’s performance in particular, so hilarious (murders in a creepy mansion did not faze me, I was also a “Murder, She Wrote” fan) that I watched it every weekend for a year. I still remember sitting in front of the VCR to press the rewind button to rewatch my favorite part — when Wadsworth explains the crimes.
You know that campy video with the terrible special effects of Curry singing “Anything Can Happen on Halloween” that resurfaces every fall? Yeah, “The Worst Witch” was another taped-from-the-Disney-Channel special in my rotation.
My sister Andrea, who is 5½ years younger, never really watched these with me — although you could argue that nobody could escape the constant “Clue” viewings in our house. We had little in common except the sisterly urge to irritate each other and our daily detente to watch “Saved by the Bell” for an hour after school.
The 20th anniversary of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” changed that. On Halloween night in 1995, the musical comedy aired on TV for the first time, as part of a celebration on VH1.
Freshly turned 15, I had finished handing out candy to the neighborhood kids and Andrea had already returned from trick-or-treating when Patricia Quinn’s red lips showed up on the black screen as “Science Fiction/Double Feature” began to play. We sat on the couch, enraptured until “Time Warp” compelled us to jump to the left and step to the right.
Then, with the foreboding intro and the tapping heel of a bedazzled platform pump, the delicious reveal of Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter singing “Sweet Transvestite” cemented that this experience would bond us for life.
(In hindsight, even watching the edited-for-TV version of “Rocky Horror” was probably a bit much for a 9-year-old, but the ‘90s were a different time and the adult themes went over her head.)
At some point we taped it and much like my “Clue” obsession, Andrea and I would watch and perform the first 30 minutes of the movie in the family room, sometimes multiple times a day — our very own shadow cast even though we had no midnight viewing to attend together.
We still fought, but it was arguing over who got to play Frank-N-Furter first, using a woven beige cotton throw blanket around our shoulders — a decidedly less fabulous cape than the black and silver satin one Curry wore — to dramatically toss off at the first chorus of “Sweet Transvestite.” We studied the choreography, mimicking his strut to the ballroom stage, the hip swivels, the disco arm roll as he sings about getting Brad and Janet a satanic mechanic. I am forever envious that Andrea can mimic Curry’s raised eyebrow.
We finally bought it on VHS so we could watch the unedited version without commercials.
While “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” was magical to us, it wasn’t magic. Andrea and I still clashed, as vastly different Type-A sisters do. But every year on Halloween, we made an effort to watch the film together. Since we live on opposite coasts, streaming has made this much easier.
For my 40th birthday, in the throes of the COVID-19 shutdown, Andrea persuaded our parents and our husbands that I needed a Cameo from Meat Loaf, who played Eddie, since we couldn’t get together to celebrate. Her instructions to him included a request to wish me a happy birthday “Rocky Horror”-style. The result was a 23-minute-long heartfelt video that was so funny at times that I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. He talked about meeting Curry at the Roxy when they were bringing the show to the U.S. and how taken aback he was to see him in character.
For Andrea’s 40th birthday earlier this year, I repaid the favor and requested a video for her from Nell Campbell, who portrayed Columbia, in which she talked about sisterhood — and “Rocky Horror,” of course.
When the news broke Wednesday of Curry’s death, Andrea and I immediately texted each other about our shared grief.
Then we started making plans to honor him the best way we know how — by watching “Rocky Horror” together this weekend. I have a fancier fleece blanket that should work nicely for Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s cape.
When people find out I have a sister, they ask if we are alike. As a Xennial, I turn to the MTV animated series “Daria” to explain our dynamic. I’m the sarcastic title character in grunge wear and she’s the younger sister Quinn, her complete antithesis, in a pink crop top with plenty of eye rolls and sighs to spare for her older sister.
Then I use another pop culture reference: “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Tim Curry, the actor who starred in the cult classic musical as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, died Tuesday at 80.
And in “Rocky Horror,” Curry gave life to more than a creation named Rocky — he built the foundation of my friendship with my sister.
Long before I ever learned the steps of the Time Warp, I was a child who was enamored with Curry. He starred as the butler Wadsworth in 1985’s “Clue.” My mom taped it when it first aired on cable a couple of years later and since it was based on a beloved board game, I was invested. I found the movie, and Curry’s performance in particular, so hilarious (murders in a creepy mansion did not faze me, I was also a “Murder, She Wrote” fan) that I watched it every weekend for a year. I still remember sitting in front of the VCR to press the rewind button to rewatch my favorite part — when Wadsworth explains the crimes.
You know that campy video with the terrible special effects of Curry singing “Anything Can Happen on Halloween” that resurfaces every fall? Yeah, “The Worst Witch” was another taped-from-the-Disney-Channel special in my rotation.
My sister Andrea, who is 5½ years younger, never really watched these with me — although you could argue that nobody could escape the constant “Clue” viewings in our house. We had little in common except the sisterly urge to irritate each other and our daily detente to watch “Saved by the Bell” for an hour after school.
The 20th anniversary of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” changed that. On Halloween night in 1995, the musical comedy aired on TV for the first time, as part of a celebration on VH1.
Freshly turned 15, I had finished handing out candy to the neighborhood kids and Andrea had already returned from trick-or-treating when Patricia Quinn’s red lips showed up on the black screen as “Science Fiction/Double Feature” began to play. We sat on the couch, enraptured until “Time Warp” compelled us to jump to the left and step to the right.
Then, with the foreboding intro and the tapping heel of a bedazzled platform pump, the delicious reveal of Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter singing “Sweet Transvestite” cemented that this experience would bond us for life.
(In hindsight, even watching the edited-for-TV version of “Rocky Horror” was probably a bit much for a 9-year-old, but the ‘90s were a different time and the adult themes went over her head.)
At some point we taped it and much like my “Clue” obsession, Andrea and I would watch and perform the first 30 minutes of the movie in the family room, sometimes multiple times a day — our very own shadow cast even though we had no midnight viewing to attend together.
We still fought, but it was arguing over who got to play Frank-N-Furter first, using a woven beige cotton throw blanket around our shoulders — a decidedly less fabulous cape than the black and silver satin one Curry wore — to dramatically toss off at the first chorus of “Sweet Transvestite.” We studied the choreography, mimicking his strut to the ballroom stage, the hip swivels, the disco arm roll as he sings about getting Brad and Janet a satanic mechanic. I am forever envious that Andrea can mimic Curry’s raised eyebrow.
We finally bought it on VHS so we could watch the unedited version without commercials.
While “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” was magical to us, it wasn’t magic. Andrea and I still clashed, as vastly different Type-A sisters do. But every year on Halloween, we made an effort to watch the film together. Since we live on opposite coasts, streaming has made this much easier.
For my 40th birthday, in the throes of the COVID-19 shutdown, Andrea persuaded our parents and our husbands that I needed a Cameo from Meat Loaf, who played Eddie, since we couldn’t get together to celebrate. Her instructions to him included a request to wish me a happy birthday “Rocky Horror”-style. The result was a 23-minute-long heartfelt video that was so funny at times that I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. He talked about meeting Curry at the Roxy when they were bringing the show to the U.S. and how taken aback he was to see him in character.
For Andrea’s 40th birthday earlier this year, I repaid the favor and requested a video for her from Nell Campbell, who portrayed Columbia, in which she talked about sisterhood — and “Rocky Horror,” of course.
When the news broke Wednesday of Curry’s death, Andrea and I immediately texted each other about our shared grief.
Then we started making plans to honor him the best way we know how — by watching “Rocky Horror” together this weekend. I have a fancier fleece blanket that should work nicely for Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s cape.
When people find out I have a sister, they ask if we are alike. As a Xennial, I turn to the MTV animated series “Daria” to explain our dynamic. I’m the sarcastic title character in grunge wear and she’s the younger sister Quinn, her complete antithesis, in a pink crop top with plenty of eye rolls and sighs to spare for her older sister.
Then I use another pop culture reference: “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Tim Curry, the actor who starred in the cult classic musical as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, died Tuesday at 80.
And in “Rocky Horror,” Curry gave life to more than a creation named Rocky — he built the foundation of my friendship with my sister.
Long before I ever learned the steps of the Time Warp, I was a child who was enamored with Curry. He starred as the butler Wadsworth in 1985’s “Clue.” My mom taped it when it first aired on cable a couple of years later and since it was based on a beloved board game, I was invested. I found the movie, and Curry’s performance in particular, so hilarious (murders in a creepy mansion did not faze me, I was also a “Murder, She Wrote” fan) that I watched it every weekend for a year. I still remember sitting in front of the VCR to press the rewind button to rewatch my favorite part — when Wadsworth explains the crimes.
You know that campy video with the terrible special effects of Curry singing “Anything Can Happen on Halloween” that resurfaces every fall? Yeah, “The Worst Witch” was another taped-from-the-Disney-Channel special in my rotation.
My sister Andrea, who is 5½ years younger, never really watched these with me — although you could argue that nobody could escape the constant “Clue” viewings in our house. We had little in common except the sisterly urge to irritate each other and our daily detente to watch “Saved by the Bell” for an hour after school.
The 20th anniversary of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” changed that. On Halloween night in 1995, the musical comedy aired on TV for the first time, as part of a celebration on VH1.
Freshly turned 15, I had finished handing out candy to the neighborhood kids and Andrea had already returned from trick-or-treating when Patricia Quinn’s red lips showed up on the black screen as “Science Fiction/Double Feature” began to play. We sat on the couch, enraptured until “Time Warp” compelled us to jump to the left and step to the right.
Then, with the foreboding intro and the tapping heel of a bedazzled platform pump, the delicious reveal of Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter singing “Sweet Transvestite” cemented that this experience would bond us for life.
(In hindsight, even watching the edited-for-TV version of “Rocky Horror” was probably a bit much for a 9-year-old, but the ‘90s were a different time and the adult themes went over her head.)
At some point we taped it and much like my “Clue” obsession, Andrea and I would watch and perform the first 30 minutes of the movie in the family room, sometimes multiple times a day — our very own shadow cast even though we had no midnight viewing to attend together.
We still fought, but it was arguing over who got to play Frank-N-Furter first, using a woven beige cotton throw blanket around our shoulders — a decidedly less fabulous cape than the black and silver satin one Curry wore — to dramatically toss off at the first chorus of “Sweet Transvestite.” We studied the choreography, mimicking his strut to the ballroom stage, the hip swivels, the disco arm roll as he sings about getting Brad and Janet a satanic mechanic. I am forever envious that Andrea can mimic Curry’s raised eyebrow.
We finally bought it on VHS so we could watch the unedited version without commercials.
While “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” was magical to us, it wasn’t magic. Andrea and I still clashed, as vastly different Type-A sisters do. But every year on Halloween, we made an effort to watch the film together. Since we live on opposite coasts, streaming has made this much easier.
For my 40th birthday, in the throes of the COVID-19 shutdown, Andrea persuaded our parents and our husbands that I needed a Cameo from Meat Loaf, who played Eddie, since we couldn’t get together to celebrate. Her instructions to him included a request to wish me a happy birthday “Rocky Horror”-style. The result was a 23-minute-long heartfelt video that was so funny at times that I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. He talked about meeting Curry at the Roxy when they were bringing the show to the U.S. and how taken aback he was to see him in character.
For Andrea’s 40th birthday earlier this year, I repaid the favor and requested a video for her from Nell Campbell, who portrayed Columbia, in which she talked about sisterhood — and “Rocky Horror,” of course.
When the news broke Wednesday of Curry’s death, Andrea and I immediately texted each other about our shared grief.
Then we started making plans to honor him the best way we know how — by watching “Rocky Horror” together this weekend. I have a fancier fleece blanket that should work nicely for Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s cape.
When people find out I have a sister, they ask if we are alike. As a Xennial, I turn to the MTV animated series “Daria” to explain our dynamic. I’m the sarcastic title character in grunge wear and she’s the younger sister Quinn, her complete antithesis, in a pink crop top with plenty of eye rolls and sighs to spare for her older sister.
Then I use another pop culture reference: “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Tim Curry, the actor who starred in the cult classic musical as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, died Tuesday at 80.
And in “Rocky Horror,” Curry gave life to more than a creation named Rocky — he built the foundation of my friendship with my sister.
Long before I ever learned the steps of the Time Warp, I was a child who was enamored with Curry. He starred as the butler Wadsworth in 1985’s “Clue.” My mom taped it when it first aired on cable a couple of years later and since it was based on a beloved board game, I was invested. I found the movie, and Curry’s performance in particular, so hilarious (murders in a creepy mansion did not faze me, I was also a “Murder, She Wrote” fan) that I watched it every weekend for a year. I still remember sitting in front of the VCR to press the rewind button to rewatch my favorite part — when Wadsworth explains the crimes.
You know that campy video with the terrible special effects of Curry singing “Anything Can Happen on Halloween” that resurfaces every fall? Yeah, “The Worst Witch” was another taped-from-the-Disney-Channel special in my rotation.
My sister Andrea, who is 5½ years younger, never really watched these with me — although you could argue that nobody could escape the constant “Clue” viewings in our house. We had little in common except the sisterly urge to irritate each other and our daily detente to watch “Saved by the Bell” for an hour after school.
The 20th anniversary of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” changed that. On Halloween night in 1995, the musical comedy aired on TV for the first time, as part of a celebration on VH1.
Freshly turned 15, I had finished handing out candy to the neighborhood kids and Andrea had already returned from trick-or-treating when Patricia Quinn’s red lips showed up on the black screen as “Science Fiction/Double Feature” began to play. We sat on the couch, enraptured until “Time Warp” compelled us to jump to the left and step to the right.
Then, with the foreboding intro and the tapping heel of a bedazzled platform pump, the delicious reveal of Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter singing “Sweet Transvestite” cemented that this experience would bond us for life.
(In hindsight, even watching the edited-for-TV version of “Rocky Horror” was probably a bit much for a 9-year-old, but the ‘90s were a different time and the adult themes went over her head.)
At some point we taped it and much like my “Clue” obsession, Andrea and I would watch and perform the first 30 minutes of the movie in the family room, sometimes multiple times a day — our very own shadow cast even though we had no midnight viewing to attend together.
We still fought, but it was arguing over who got to play Frank-N-Furter first, using a woven beige cotton throw blanket around our shoulders — a decidedly less fabulous cape than the black and silver satin one Curry wore — to dramatically toss off at the first chorus of “Sweet Transvestite.” We studied the choreography, mimicking his strut to the ballroom stage, the hip swivels, the disco arm roll as he sings about getting Brad and Janet a satanic mechanic. I am forever envious that Andrea can mimic Curry’s raised eyebrow.
We finally bought it on VHS so we could watch the unedited version without commercials.
While “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” was magical to us, it wasn’t magic. Andrea and I still clashed, as vastly different Type-A sisters do. But every year on Halloween, we made an effort to watch the film together. Since we live on opposite coasts, streaming has made this much easier.
For my 40th birthday, in the throes of the COVID-19 shutdown, Andrea persuaded our parents and our husbands that I needed a Cameo from Meat Loaf, who played Eddie, since we couldn’t get together to celebrate. Her instructions to him included a request to wish me a happy birthday “Rocky Horror”-style. The result was a 23-minute-long heartfelt video that was so funny at times that I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. He talked about meeting Curry at the Roxy when they were bringing the show to the U.S. and how taken aback he was to see him in character.
For Andrea’s 40th birthday earlier this year, I repaid the favor and requested a video for her from Nell Campbell, who portrayed Columbia, in which she talked about sisterhood — and “Rocky Horror,” of course.
When the news broke Wednesday of Curry’s death, Andrea and I immediately texted each other about our shared grief.
Then we started making plans to honor him the best way we know how — by watching “Rocky Horror” together this weekend. I have a fancier fleece blanket that should work nicely for Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s cape.
When people find out I have a sister, they ask if we are alike. As a Xennial, I turn to the MTV animated series “Daria” to explain our dynamic. I’m the sarcastic title character in grunge wear and she’s the younger sister Quinn, her complete antithesis, in a pink crop top with plenty of eye rolls and sighs to spare for her older sister.
Then I use another pop culture reference: “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Tim Curry, the actor who starred in the cult classic musical as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, died Tuesday at 80.
And in “Rocky Horror,” Curry gave life to more than a creation named Rocky — he built the foundation of my friendship with my sister.
Long before I ever learned the steps of the Time Warp, I was a child who was enamored with Curry. He starred as the butler Wadsworth in 1985’s “Clue.” My mom taped it when it first aired on cable a couple of years later and since it was based on a beloved board game, I was invested. I found the movie, and Curry’s performance in particular, so hilarious (murders in a creepy mansion did not faze me, I was also a “Murder, She Wrote” fan) that I watched it every weekend for a year. I still remember sitting in front of the VCR to press the rewind button to rewatch my favorite part — when Wadsworth explains the crimes.
You know that campy video with the terrible special effects of Curry singing “Anything Can Happen on Halloween” that resurfaces every fall? Yeah, “The Worst Witch” was another taped-from-the-Disney-Channel special in my rotation.
My sister Andrea, who is 5½ years younger, never really watched these with me — although you could argue that nobody could escape the constant “Clue” viewings in our house. We had little in common except the sisterly urge to irritate each other and our daily detente to watch “Saved by the Bell” for an hour after school.
The 20th anniversary of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” changed that. On Halloween night in 1995, the musical comedy aired on TV for the first time, as part of a celebration on VH1.
Freshly turned 15, I had finished handing out candy to the neighborhood kids and Andrea had already returned from trick-or-treating when Patricia Quinn’s red lips showed up on the black screen as “Science Fiction/Double Feature” began to play. We sat on the couch, enraptured until “Time Warp” compelled us to jump to the left and step to the right.
Then, with the foreboding intro and the tapping heel of a bedazzled platform pump, the delicious reveal of Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter singing “Sweet Transvestite” cemented that this experience would bond us for life.
(In hindsight, even watching the edited-for-TV version of “Rocky Horror” was probably a bit much for a 9-year-old, but the ‘90s were a different time and the adult themes went over her head.)
At some point we taped it and much like my “Clue” obsession, Andrea and I would watch and perform the first 30 minutes of the movie in the family room, sometimes multiple times a day — our very own shadow cast even though we had no midnight viewing to attend together.
We still fought, but it was arguing over who got to play Frank-N-Furter first, using a woven beige cotton throw blanket around our shoulders — a decidedly less fabulous cape than the black and silver satin one Curry wore — to dramatically toss off at the first chorus of “Sweet Transvestite.” We studied the choreography, mimicking his strut to the ballroom stage, the hip swivels, the disco arm roll as he sings about getting Brad and Janet a satanic mechanic. I am forever envious that Andrea can mimic Curry’s raised eyebrow.
We finally bought it on VHS so we could watch the unedited version without commercials.
While “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” was magical to us, it wasn’t magic. Andrea and I still clashed, as vastly different Type-A sisters do. But every year on Halloween, we made an effort to watch the film together. Since we live on opposite coasts, streaming has made this much easier.
For my 40th birthday, in the throes of the COVID-19 shutdown, Andrea persuaded our parents and our husbands that I needed a Cameo from Meat Loaf, who played Eddie, since we couldn’t get together to celebrate. Her instructions to him included a request to wish me a happy birthday “Rocky Horror”-style. The result was a 23-minute-long heartfelt video that was so funny at times that I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. He talked about meeting Curry at the Roxy when they were bringing the show to the U.S. and how taken aback he was to see him in character.
For Andrea’s 40th birthday earlier this year, I repaid the favor and requested a video for her from Nell Campbell, who portrayed Columbia, in which she talked about sisterhood — and “Rocky Horror,” of course.
When the news broke Wednesday of Curry’s death, Andrea and I immediately texted each other about our shared grief.
Then we started making plans to honor him the best way we know how — by watching “Rocky Horror” together this weekend. I have a fancier fleece blanket that should work nicely for Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s cape.
When people find out I have a sister, they ask if we are alike. As a Xennial, I turn to the MTV animated series “Daria” to explain our dynamic. I’m the sarcastic title character in grunge wear and she’s the younger sister Quinn, her complete antithesis, in a pink crop top with plenty of eye rolls and sighs to spare for her older sister.
Then I use another pop culture reference: “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Tim Curry, the actor who starred in the cult classic musical as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, died Tuesday at 80.
And in “Rocky Horror,” Curry gave life to more than a creation named Rocky — he built the foundation of my friendship with my sister.
Long before I ever learned the steps of the Time Warp, I was a child who was enamored with Curry. He starred as the butler Wadsworth in 1985’s “Clue.” My mom taped it when it first aired on cable a couple of years later and since it was based on a beloved board game, I was invested. I found the movie, and Curry’s performance in particular, so hilarious (murders in a creepy mansion did not faze me, I was also a “Murder, She Wrote” fan) that I watched it every weekend for a year. I still remember sitting in front of the VCR to press the rewind button to rewatch my favorite part — when Wadsworth explains the crimes.
You know that campy video with the terrible special effects of Curry singing “Anything Can Happen on Halloween” that resurfaces every fall? Yeah, “The Worst Witch” was another taped-from-the-Disney-Channel special in my rotation.
My sister Andrea, who is 5½ years younger, never really watched these with me — although you could argue that nobody could escape the constant “Clue” viewings in our house. We had little in common except the sisterly urge to irritate each other and our daily detente to watch “Saved by the Bell” for an hour after school.
The 20th anniversary of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” changed that. On Halloween night in 1995, the musical comedy aired on TV for the first time, as part of a celebration on VH1.
Freshly turned 15, I had finished handing out candy to the neighborhood kids and Andrea had already returned from trick-or-treating when Patricia Quinn’s red lips showed up on the black screen as “Science Fiction/Double Feature” began to play. We sat on the couch, enraptured until “Time Warp” compelled us to jump to the left and step to the right.
Then, with the foreboding intro and the tapping heel of a bedazzled platform pump, the delicious reveal of Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter singing “Sweet Transvestite” cemented that this experience would bond us for life.
(In hindsight, even watching the edited-for-TV version of “Rocky Horror” was probably a bit much for a 9-year-old, but the ‘90s were a different time and the adult themes went over her head.)
At some point we taped it and much like my “Clue” obsession, Andrea and I would watch and perform the first 30 minutes of the movie in the family room, sometimes multiple times a day — our very own shadow cast even though we had no midnight viewing to attend together.
We still fought, but it was arguing over who got to play Frank-N-Furter first, using a woven beige cotton throw blanket around our shoulders — a decidedly less fabulous cape than the black and silver satin one Curry wore — to dramatically toss off at the first chorus of “Sweet Transvestite.” We studied the choreography, mimicking his strut to the ballroom stage, the hip swivels, the disco arm roll as he sings about getting Brad and Janet a satanic mechanic. I am forever envious that Andrea can mimic Curry’s raised eyebrow.
We finally bought it on VHS so we could watch the unedited version without commercials.
While “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” was magical to us, it wasn’t magic. Andrea and I still clashed, as vastly different Type-A sisters do. But every year on Halloween, we made an effort to watch the film together. Since we live on opposite coasts, streaming has made this much easier.
For my 40th birthday, in the throes of the COVID-19 shutdown, Andrea persuaded our parents and our husbands that I needed a Cameo from Meat Loaf, who played Eddie, since we couldn’t get together to celebrate. Her instructions to him included a request to wish me a happy birthday “Rocky Horror”-style. The result was a 23-minute-long heartfelt video that was so funny at times that I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. He talked about meeting Curry at the Roxy when they were bringing the show to the U.S. and how taken aback he was to see him in character.
For Andrea’s 40th birthday earlier this year, I repaid the favor and requested a video for her from Nell Campbell, who portrayed Columbia, in which she talked about sisterhood — and “Rocky Horror,” of course.
When the news broke Wednesday of Curry’s death, Andrea and I immediately texted each other about our shared grief.
Then we started making plans to honor him the best way we know how — by watching “Rocky Horror” together this weekend. I have a fancier fleece blanket that should work nicely for Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s cape.
When people find out I have a sister, they ask if we are alike. As a Xennial, I turn to the MTV animated series “Daria” to explain our dynamic. I’m the sarcastic title character in grunge wear and she’s the younger sister Quinn, her complete antithesis, in a pink crop top with plenty of eye rolls and sighs to spare for her older sister.
Then I use another pop culture reference: “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Tim Curry, the actor who starred in the cult classic musical as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, died Tuesday at 80.
And in “Rocky Horror,” Curry gave life to more than a creation named Rocky — he built the foundation of my friendship with my sister.
Long before I ever learned the steps of the Time Warp, I was a child who was enamored with Curry. He starred as the butler Wadsworth in 1985’s “Clue.” My mom taped it when it first aired on cable a couple of years later and since it was based on a beloved board game, I was invested. I found the movie, and Curry’s performance in particular, so hilarious (murders in a creepy mansion did not faze me, I was also a “Murder, She Wrote” fan) that I watched it every weekend for a year. I still remember sitting in front of the VCR to press the rewind button to rewatch my favorite part — when Wadsworth explains the crimes.
You know that campy video with the terrible special effects of Curry singing “Anything Can Happen on Halloween” that resurfaces every fall? Yeah, “The Worst Witch” was another taped-from-the-Disney-Channel special in my rotation.
My sister Andrea, who is 5½ years younger, never really watched these with me — although you could argue that nobody could escape the constant “Clue” viewings in our house. We had little in common except the sisterly urge to irritate each other and our daily detente to watch “Saved by the Bell” for an hour after school.
The 20th anniversary of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” changed that. On Halloween night in 1995, the musical comedy aired on TV for the first time, as part of a celebration on VH1.
Freshly turned 15, I had finished handing out candy to the neighborhood kids and Andrea had already returned from trick-or-treating when Patricia Quinn’s red lips showed up on the black screen as “Science Fiction/Double Feature” began to play. We sat on the couch, enraptured until “Time Warp” compelled us to jump to the left and step to the right.
Then, with the foreboding intro and the tapping heel of a bedazzled platform pump, the delicious reveal of Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter singing “Sweet Transvestite” cemented that this experience would bond us for life.
(In hindsight, even watching the edited-for-TV version of “Rocky Horror” was probably a bit much for a 9-year-old, but the ‘90s were a different time and the adult themes went over her head.)
At some point we taped it and much like my “Clue” obsession, Andrea and I would watch and perform the first 30 minutes of the movie in the family room, sometimes multiple times a day — our very own shadow cast even though we had no midnight viewing to attend together.
We still fought, but it was arguing over who got to play Frank-N-Furter first, using a woven beige cotton throw blanket around our shoulders — a decidedly less fabulous cape than the black and silver satin one Curry wore — to dramatically toss off at the first chorus of “Sweet Transvestite.” We studied the choreography, mimicking his strut to the ballroom stage, the hip swivels, the disco arm roll as he sings about getting Brad and Janet a satanic mechanic. I am forever envious that Andrea can mimic Curry’s raised eyebrow.
We finally bought it on VHS so we could watch the unedited version without commercials.
While “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” was magical to us, it wasn’t magic. Andrea and I still clashed, as vastly different Type-A sisters do. But every year on Halloween, we made an effort to watch the film together. Since we live on opposite coasts, streaming has made this much easier.
For my 40th birthday, in the throes of the COVID-19 shutdown, Andrea persuaded our parents and our husbands that I needed a Cameo from Meat Loaf, who played Eddie, since we couldn’t get together to celebrate. Her instructions to him included a request to wish me a happy birthday “Rocky Horror”-style. The result was a 23-minute-long heartfelt video that was so funny at times that I couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. He talked about meeting Curry at the Roxy when they were bringing the show to the U.S. and how taken aback he was to see him in character.
For Andrea’s 40th birthday earlier this year, I repaid the favor and requested a video for her from Nell Campbell, who portrayed Columbia, in which she talked about sisterhood — and “Rocky Horror,” of course.
When the news broke Wednesday of Curry’s death, Andrea and I immediately texted each other about our shared grief.
Then we started making plans to honor him the best way we know how — by watching “Rocky Horror” together this weekend. I have a fancier fleece blanket that should work nicely for Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s cape.
