"Really drives you insa-a-a-ane,"
part II: why I think RHPS makes you go crazy
by Elizabeth A. Allen
Now that I've let Umberto Eco sound off about cult films, it's my turn. I think that RHPS succeeds as a film because it contains all the characteristics of a model fantasy.
First, it grounds us by supplying heroes that we can identify with. In the midst of all the oddity of a fantasy, the viewer needs some people that he or she can understand and sympathize with. Hence Brad and Janet, who are just as nonplused as we would be if we discovered a swarm of paraphiliacs...and just as thrilled as we might be if we got introduced to sex in such a razzmatazz way. Hence also Frank. He acts as flamboyant and uninhibited as a lot of us would like to (though not necessarily with the same accouterments), and he's entirely happy with the way he is. I'm not saying that everyone wants to be a dead cross-dressing alien, but I think that people can understand even him because they've got something squashed inside them that would like to be that self-expressive and happy about it.
Second, the film expertly portrays an invasion of the bizarre (shown at above left) into the realm of the normal. Fantasy is about the shattering of reality. The reality can be this world, as it is in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, or even an imaginary one. Either way, this reality must be completely ordinary and unexceptional. In the extreme, it is as laughably dull as Brad and Janet. When the unreal elements explode onto the screen, the viewer and the characters are caught up in them because they are so different.
The best fantasy exploits a juxtaposition between the ordinary and the
extraordinary to heighten the sense of magic. This is exactly what The
Rocky Horror Picture Show does. It throws in the viewer's face the contrast
of Brad and Janet versus Frank. This is best shown in my favorite song,
"Sweet Transvestite." Frank rips off his cape (see below right)
and grinds his flashy hips for his audience, sneering and leering and bragging
about he's "one hell of a lover." Meanwhile, Brad and Janet, dripping
diffidently in their drab little outfits, try to escape by making a polite
request. "I'm glad we caught you at home; can we use your phone?"
Brad inquires of Frank. "We're both in a bit of a hurry...." Their
normalcy 
doesn't work in such a crazy place. Unimpressed,
Frank remarks that he'll have to get them a "satanic mechanic"
and then turns to the more important business of strutting his stuff.
Third, The Rocky Horror Picture Show responds to its heritage. Fantasy can be a dangerous genre because its stock subjects -- such the desperate quest by a small band of unlikely companions to find a fabled object which will overthrow the rising onslaught of evil that threatens to end the universe as we know it -- tend to be on a grand scale. As a result, fantasy, more so than other genres, runs the risk of becoming pretentious and pseudo-philosophical.
All fantasies deal with this tradtional tendency somehow. The bad ones just repeat what has been said before in all seriousness, ending up bombastic. The well-executed fantasy has several options. It can carefully use the traditions, combining them, modifying them, employing them in an artful and usually restrained way. Alternatively, it can consciously toss together all the familiar elements for the purpose of screwing around, which is what The Rocky Horror Picture Show does. You can see my essay "Frank N. Furter, it's all over!" for a detailed discussion of how the ending plays off of traditions. I'd argue that it takes more skill to create an effective parody than an effective reworking. Though I respect reworkings, I also enjoy RHPS, mainly because most reworkings aren't so damned funny and raunchy. :)