Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror is more than a chronicle of the cult phenomenon that reshaped pop culture. For me, it’s also a reminder of how Richard O’Brien’s work helped me through a difficult time. Although I didn’t embrace the movement when it first debuted, I knew this would be something special.
The music and narrative beats weren’t just campy pastiches of sci-fi and B-movies; they carried an undercurrent of yearning and freedom that resonated deeply when I needed it most as I navigated adult life. Seeing them revisited and reframed here reminded me why this show has always been more than glitter and fishnets.
Directed by O’Brien’s son, Linus, the documentary is both in-depth and intimate. It blends archival footage, interviews, and narration to explore the film, the stage show, and its cultural impact. Watching Linus explore sides of his father that might have been unspoken in their private lives—particularly O’Brien’s own embrace of gender identity and the way his work encouraged others to do the same—adds a tenderness that sets this film apart from other music documentaries.
In the velvet darkness of the blackest night—borrowing the lyric to make the point—there’s a guiding star showing why this story matters. People still flock to midnight screenings not because of movements or fads, but because Rocky Horror invites them to shed their restraints and reveal who they want to be. Suits come off, garter belts go on, and the message is clear: celebration beats conformity.
Debuting in the 70s, Rocky Horror’s influence went beyond musical theatre. Like other pioneering acts, it helped define the era—even icons like David Bowie embraced it in a conservative British world. Its reach extended beyond fans: even young performers like Jack Black were wowed. Seeing the film shaped how he approaches music and performance, and it’s a delightful surprise to see him reflect on that here.
The film balances history, humour, and heartfelt moments beautifully. Anecdotes from Patricia Quinn, Barry Bostwick and Nell Campbell, along with other other cast members, add sparkle. Susan Sarandon recalls what could have been an uncomfortable moment with Peter Hinwood (who played Rocky). Her simple “it’s okay” speaks volumes about the supportive environment that made the film possible.
I especially enjoyed the behind-the-scenes glimpses of where it was filmed. Everything was within shooting distance in Berkshire: Oakley Court served as the exterior, and most interior scenes were shot inside Bray Studios, home of Hammer Horror. Short clips, scattered footage, and candid stories convey the stress of making a movie in just six weeks, while still capturing the joy of the process.
And nobody is forgotten. Every surviving cast member gets their say, which is no small feat. The affection each has for the work is obvious, and Meat Loaf’s presence is particularly memorable. Back then, he was just “that Texan with the big voice,” and people knew he’d go far. “Hot Patootie—Bless My Soul” isn’t just Eddie’s song—it’s a time capsule of the era’s rock sensibilities. The way the documentary frames it is so rich I’ll need multiple viewings just to catch everything.
The film doesn’t ignore the bumps along the way either. It acknowledges that Rocky Horror’s success wasn’t immediate, and—yes, I’ll say it—Strange Journey is quite the Shock! That deliberate wordplay tips the hat to the ill-fated sequel, Shock Treatment. Nobody really embraced it, though honestly, the music is just as good. The issue was timing: it tried to leap into another decade, and that generational skip caused a divide.
Like Grease and Grease 2, it never found the same audience. O’Brien himself seemed unsure how to capture that next era, and the result was fascinating but flawed. Still, for those willing to give it a chance, there’s enjoyment to be had—and maybe one day it’ll get a documentary of its own.
What makes Strange Journey special is how it captures the liberation at the heart of Rocky Horror. Gender identity, fluidity, self-expression—whatever label you choose, as O’Brien has described over the years—it all started here, wrapped in songs that gave people permission to live outside of the norm. Watching this documentary reminded me not just of the times I sang along to “Rose Tint My World” with friends, but also of how those lyrics once felt like a lifeline. That song remains my favourite above all others.
This isn’t just a documentary about a movie. It’s a celebration of joy, community, and music that gave countless people, myself included, a place to belong. Newcomers will get more than a primer on the origins of Rocky Horror—the look at fandom for these late-night screenings says it all. While it occasionally assumes some familiarity with the lore, the warmth and storytelling more than make up for it. Quite simply, Strange Journey is a love letter worth giving in to.
5 Stars out of 5
Strange Journey:
A Joyful Celebration of Rocky Horror Trailer
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