Not Coming to a Theater Near You

Shock Treatment / USA / 1981

The unexpected (albeit delayed) success of The Rocky Horror Picture Show undoubtedly doomed any follow-up Jim Sharman and Richard O’Brien were planning. How do you equal the greatest cult movie of all time? Add to that a SAG strike, which forced the filmmakers to relocate shooting across the Atlantic Ocean and film entirely in a studio rather than an American suburb; the absence of Tim Curry, Barry Bostwick, and Susan Sarandon; and the dawn of the 1980s, when films like Rocky Horror were subdued by cheeky feel-good cinema (Chariots of Fire and Kramer vs. Kramer). There wasn’t room for another Frank-N-Furter.

All in all, Shock Treatment is an admirably strange and visually stunning look at the hypnotic power of television. Sharman and O’Brien’s screenplay enjoys teasing the line between reality and entertainment—Janet goes from member of the studio audience to TV superstar, all while fretting over her husband and arguing with her parents. Even the studio audience is a scathing critique on our addiction to the “idiot box”; the throng of men and women never leave, sleeping instead in their chairs until the next day’s broadcasts begin. Watched in an era of reality shows and 24/7 programming, Shock Treatment feels like an overlooked prediction of the future.

The cast, including Barry “Dame Edna” Humphries as game show host Bert Schnik, never missteps. But the film does have its faults, the greatest of which is the music. Where the soundtrack to Rocky Horror is both expertly composed and memorable, the songs herein are wholly forgettable. “Lullaby,” “Thank God I’m a Man,” and even “Bitchin’ in the Kitchen” don’t have the alluringly bizarre pull found in “Dammit Janet” and “Time Warp.” (Maybe a simple, catchy dance sequence would’ve helped.)

Rumsey’s Thoughts

by Adam Balz | Source: FMC
11 Dec 2006 1:37 PM | Comments (3)

Comments / 3 total / Submit Comment

1. rumsey / 11 December 2006 / 11:19 AM / URL

   But the film does have its faults, the greatest of which is the music. Where the soundtrack to Rocky Horror is both expertly composed and memorable, the songs herein are wholly forgettable.

   Au contraire my friend. The music is about the only thing that’s stayed with me since I first saw this film. I guess, because of the circumstances you cite above, the film is very much the compromised product of oppression, and its music is one of the only elements that is independent of context—it works without the film, but not vice-versa. “Bitchin’ in the Kitchen”? Classic. But given my listening habits this year (both this and the Beyond the Valley of the Dolls OST have been in heavy rotation) my appraisal of how great this music is should probably be read with skepticism and a cocktail made with a consumer-grade blender.

2. Adam B. / 11 December 2006 / 1:07 PM / URL

   I should also confess that my ear for music is not the greatest (for the last week I’ve subjected myself to a PBS plege-drive mix of James Taylor and Pink Floyd). I’m sure if I heard “Bitchin’ in the Kitchen” again, perhaps without the eye-blinding scenery (a purely white set designed to look like a germophobe’s heaven) I would better appreciate the lyrics. Until then, I’ll always settle for Frank-N-Furter’s ode to perverse Frankensteinian love.

3. Megan / 11 December 2006 / 1:19 PM

   I love both films, but in mood and scope they are very, very different. Shock Treatment is Richard O’Brien’s attempt at (unsubtle) satire, and the music reflects that. Though I adore “Bitchin’ in the Kitchen” and “Me of Me,” I agree that they don’t have the joie de vivre of “Sweet Transvestite” or “Touch Me.” Rocky Horror has a sweetness, a bizarre (and perfect) combination of lightheartedness and decadence, that Shock Treatment was never meant to have. The songs in Rocky Horror seem more organic to the film than the songs in Shock Treatment— they spring up so naturally that you just can’t imagine the film without the songs. Shock Treatment? Not so much. My impression is that the chaos surrounding the making of Shock Treatment made the songs O’Brien had already written a little more inappropriate than they would have otherwise been— forcing the film into a TV studio adds a completely different layer of meaning, and the songs were sort of left behind.

   I can’t heap enough praise on both films. They’re just such great fun. But in the final scene of Shock Treatment, as our heroes (and the youth! of today!) go driving off into the distance singing “Anyhow Anyhow,” something tells me they’re on their way to catch a Rocky Horror screening. If that makes sense.