Confessions of a Transylvanian (4 page)

Her
e’
s what I mean: Imagine row upon row of signs to hang on your back deck that say things like “I Do
n’
t Swim In Your Toilet So Do
n’
t Pee In My Pool” and “Kiss the Chef!” and cornball garbage like that. Next to that, a section for gag gifts (fake vomit, whoopee cushions, etc.) for the fratboy set. Neon beer signs all over the place—some of which had...gasp!...dirty words on them (a prominent one declared “No Bullshit!”). Halloween costumes, crotchless panties and other sexy outfits for kinky couples. Handcuffs, beer bongs, ping-pong paddles, poker chips. The place had everything. And now that
I’
ve described it, you know what I mean, right? Walk down any beachfront in the world and yo
u’
ll see a shop like it.

Okay, now whatever store yo
u’
ve got in your head? Picture it fifty times bigger and with a hundred times the silly crap scattered all over the place. The Walmart of American tourist garbage.
That
was the Barefoot Mailman. Great store.

I ducked inside and walked up to the clerk. “You guys sell buttons in here? Like, pin-on buttons?”

The guy looked at me like I walked into a strip club and asked if they were in any way involved in the naked-boob trade. “Yeah, we got a million stinki
n’
buttons. Ther
e’
s a bin of
‘
em over there.” He gestured vaguely to a huge tub situated under a giant “NO FAT CHICKS” sign. “Knock yourself out.”

I wandered over and...sure enough. There were buttons. Thousands of them. American-flag buttons, smiley-face buttons, some political stuff from the last election (“Carter for President!” “Vote Reagan!”). Buttons of every shape, size and description.

Most of them were the type that featured pseudo-witty sayings on them. “Allergic to Normal,” “Bitch in Training,” “Mustache Rides, 5 Cents.” Stuff that seems absolutely
hilarious
right up until five seconds after you buy them.

So I bought a few.

Rooting around in the button bin, though, I came across...well what do you know?...
Rocky buttons
. I was stunned. They were all in there. Frank-N-Furter. Riff Raff. Magenta. Every single character.
I’
d hit the jackpot.

Still, I did
n’
t want to go overboard. Buy too many of these and
I'
d risk looking like a Rocky nerd. (Do those exist?) Besides, I was on a budget. I could
n’
t afford to buy all of them even if I were so inclined. So I picked up a few buttons that appeared to have the
least
stupid sayings on them, three or so that were Rocky-themed (all, curiously, of Riff Raff) and, controlling my impulse to blow my whole wad, I headed to the cash register and home.

Back at my place, I locked myself in my room and began the time-honored tradition of all Transylvanians who have preceded me, preening in front of the mirror while I strategically placed the buttons up and down the lapels of my new/used jacket, and checking out the look.

It is judged to be “sweet.”

Now w
e’
re cooki
n’
. Now w
e’
re ready.

And...i
t’
s still
Tuesday
.

Wednesday

Today, I decided, would be devoted to my studies.
I’
d been messing around all week so far. Time to get serious.

So, in the interest of broadening my education, I broke out the Rocky Horror album and slid it onto the turntable.

Now, as
I’
ve said, I already knew the music. But I did
n’
t really
know
it, you know? It was
n’
t second nature. Singing along seemed forced, not effortless. If I really wanted to be a part of this thing, I had to know this album backward. Which begins with learning it forward.

And I do
n’
t mean to get all grandfatherly here with the “you kids today have it so easy” stuff, but I feel the need to remind you: To prepare to do the show that weekend, it was
n’
t like I could run out to the video store or jump on the Internet and just watch the movie in the comfort of my own home. This was the
'
80s, okay? The
early
'
80s.

Yes, at the time, we had videotapes and, yes, it was possible to watch movies at your house and all that. It was
n’
t the Stone Age. Like the
'
70s.

But Rocky had
n’
t been released on videotape in those days and would
n’
t be for years. It had never once been broadcast on television. Hell, it had
n’
t even made an appearance on HBO because, technically, it was still in wide release. After almost
seven
years
.

This meant the most I had seen of Rocky, the sum total of my viewing experience, had been the
one night
when I was actually in the theater. And that was all I would see of it until I actually performed
in the show
that Friday night.

So what did I have in my possession that would help me to properly prepare for my big debut? It turned out that my single source, my whole Rocky world, was confined to a single vinyl disc. I had the cast album and nothing else. And in order to get it down
perfectly
, I decided that I had to memorize it like I was trying to pass the Rocky bar exam.

I locked myself in my room and dropped the needle.

First side. Song number one: “Science Fiction / Double Feature.”

This one was not really something I had to worry about, but I memorized it anyway. I had nothing better to do, so why not? But it was
n’
t like
I’
d have to perform it. In the film, all that appears on the screen during this song is a pair of lips, painted bright red and stretched across the screen, crooning the number. Tha
t’
s it.

Here was what the Deerfield cast chose to do during this song:

When the lips appeared and began singing, a spotlight shot across the theater and hit these two girls sitting cross-legged at the very center of the movie scree
n’
s base. As the song proceeded, the girls performed some very simple—yet intensely compelling—choreography to accompany the words.

They were perfectly matched, these two, movement-wise, but tha
t’
s where the similarity ended. The girl on the left had long, curly hair that went down past her shoulders and these sultry, heavy-lidded eyes. She wore dark lipstick painted on a pair of lips that were perpetually pulled up into a secretive grin. It was as if she knew something very important but was
n’
t about to tell you a goddamn thing about it. Very pale skin, an hourglass body and a mysterious air.

The other was a raven-haired stunner whose black locks fell straight down everywhere but in the front. Here, she had pulled her hair into a part and feathered it off to the sides. Her eyes were enormous and she had accentuated this fact by making them pop with this thick (yet, somehow, not
too
thick) eyeliner. Her face was sharper than her partne
r’
s but her attitude was right up front. No subtext to this one. Her look said, very plainly, “You have no idea who yo
u’
re fucking with.” And you believed it.

So these two were the sho
w’
s opening act. They went through their gestures, always seated, very economical, accentuating the lyrics, syncing up perfectly to the words until, finally, the song faded out...and the crowd went nuts.

I could
n’
t wait to see it again.

But, for now: work.

Song number two.

Next up on the Rocky hit parade: “Dammit Janet.” Again, not a song I had to either sing or act out, but it was better to know it than not know it. Besides, the scene that took place
before
this song would be my first time on stage. Everyone in the show, including some of the principal performers, appeared in the opening sequence, when Ralph and Betty get their wedding photo and head off to their honeymoon.

As was the case with the Transylvanians, you were
n’
t necessarily assigned a wedding guest to try to mimic (as far as I could tell) but you had to mill about and pretend to throw rice and all that.

I presumed I would have my duties in this scene explained to me when I arrived at the show on Friday.

Presumption is a funny thing, is
n’
t it?

After “Dammit Janet” came “Over at the Frankenstein Place.” I knew that one pretty well already and it did
n’
t take much for me to get it solid. This is a three-hander, between Brad and Janet with a cameo from Riff Raff so, again, not a real problem to nail down.

I was three songs in and so far, so good.

But then, the big number: It was Time Warp time.

This is easily the most famous tune from the show, and I probably knew it better than any other. However, re-learning the song until it was second nature had to be a meticulous process, as this would be my big introduction to the corps of Transylvanians.

A group which would, for the first time, include me. This Friday. In front of a live audience. Just a few short days away—

Okay,
concentrate
. Yo
u’
ve got a job to do, so do it.

So...I listened to “The Time Warp.” Over and over.

Wha
t’
s fun about it, among other things, is the way the principal singers sort of pass the song back and forth. First i
t’
s Riff, then Magenta, then both, then Columbia...i
t’
s a real ensemble number. The Narrator sings, the Transylvanians sing...everybody sings.

Hell, even the
audience
sings it. And a lot of them got up and
danced
it, too, the night I was there.

Thing was, though, while I knew the song better than any song in the world by the time
I’
d gotten to the tenth repetition, I did
n’
t know
any
of the choreography besides the main instructions (jump to the left...step to the right, etc.). What was the blocking? How do you avoid plowing into one of the principals?

I’
d have to stay on my toes. I was hoping for someone to guide me.

Hope is a funny thing too, am I right?

On about the fifteenth iteration of the song, my mother knocked on the bedroom door and stuck her head in.

“I think yo
u’
ve listened to that one enough.
I’
ve memorized it myself. Move on.”

I moved on.

“Sweet Transvestite.” When they rank the top five oddest songs of all time, this one better be up there near the top. Totally bizarre tune.

This one involved some Transylvanian blocking, too, but what it was would remain a mystery until I got some sort of guidance. As it was my duty, I spent some time with that song as well, but not too much. My main work on the show was almost done.

Because after that number, the Transylvanians disappeared for a good long while, only to return to watch the big science experiment up in the lab. So no worries there, I thought.

Once we got to the lab, it looked to me like the Transylvanians did nothing more than a lot of watching. For example, there was a scene between Brad, Janet and Frank, followed by a short speech by Frank, then the birth of Rocky, Rock
y’
s song, another scene, and then, finally, the number “I Can Make You a Man,” which basically involved only Frank and Rocky, everyone else taking a little break.

After that, though, came “Hot Patootie.” I figured this would be more difficult, as Eddie gets on his bike at the end of the song and basically drives it through the crowd of Transylvanians. Again,
I’
d have to wait and see what my movement was going to be. But the first order of business was knowing the song like
I’
d written it.

The reprise of “I Can Make You a Man” is trickier than the first, as it involves actual Frank-N-Furter/Transylvanian interaction but her
e’
s the good news: After that,
I’
d be done. No more work for the night. I could just sit back and enjoy the show.

So I had done my homework. I had committed even the smallest little lyrical oddities from the movie to memory and driven my family, listening in the next room, positively batshit in the process. I was as ready as anyone had ever been.

If. Only. Friday. Would. Arrive.