I can tell what night the reviewer caught the show

I have to say I'm delighted with the awesome reviews you're getting for this show. I wish I were nearer so I could see it....and that's a huge concession from me, because the movie actually tends to annoy more than entertain me. :)

cheers,
Phil

I think he liked it. :-)

would be nice if the show could go on tour out my way

by TOM MACKAN
March 1 - 7, 2012
When their car has a flat on a dark and stormy night in downtown Waterdown, Brad and Janet, the essential American innocents, follow a covey of bizarrely costumed demi–mondes into an old building and find themselves at the door a baronial castle of questionable credentials. Desperate for help, our hapless heroes are unexpectedly caught up into Mary Lynn Carrier’s and Sam Sundermann’s totally unself–conscious production of Richard O’Brien’s Rocky Horror Show. What stunning good luck for us that we happen to be in the same place, waiting for the same production to begin. Soon, and to the accompaniment of James Madeiros excellent and fully involving rock band, our usherettes and a chorus of phantoms insinuate themselves with effortless ease into the inventive and expressive choreography of Carly Gordon and Lila Hunt. How fine an ensemble it all is, always and ever on the beat, in key, in step, and in the moment. Kudos to Kylie Steadman, Rosalie Usenica, Jenn Heldon, Meagan Richardson, Laurel Seagren, Gregory Solomon, Kasia Wtorek, Mitchell Zarycki, and especially the energetic Stuart Hefford, exemplary in sustaining character in and out of the light. We all know the story, so let’s talk about the show.
The accomplished Dustin Jodway plays Brad with charming effect. He is one of the area’s finest musical actors. Meantime, Erin Dunnigan as Janet is deliciously vulnerable in all her corporeal splendour, a gem of a performance. She is all exposure and self–discovery in her “Touch–a Touch Me.” It is some piece of work, you bet. Instructed by the castle’s sleezy major domo, Riff Raft, skillfully played and sung by Erik Canaria, our ingenuous heroes are invited to meet his boss and the master of the house, abetted by his sister Magenta and the maid, Columbia, the creative and skillful Katlyn Alcock–Snider and Mallory Greene. And soon we are in the presence of Frank N Furter himself. He is played with absolute command of character and amazing confidence by Chris Cracknell who delivers the iconic Furter in stiletto boots, jeans worn intravenously, and a leather bustier. A tall and stunning actor, his Furter is sexually all over the map. Cracknell’s performance is to this production what testosterone is to gonads...he is the balls of it all. A mad scientist, and having mutilated an unfortunate delivery boy, Eddie, for body parts, he creates a perfect man whom he calls Rocky Horror. Along the way, the zombie that is the leftover Eddie needs be cut up with a cleaver, mercifully done offstage but not without plenty of bloody evidence. Necessary to drive the plot is Dr. Everett Scott, a paraplegic and thinly disguised Nazi. Local luminary Loren Lieberman plays both the ghoulish Eddie and Dr. Scott with scenery chewing verve. Surely this madness of theatre must go off the rails eventually, veering with excess as it does.
It’s the inventive and sure control of Director Matt Moore that contains it. He imbues his cast and company with a sense of fun that keeps the whole just the right side of safety, all light self–mockery, thus missing the dangerous queasy mark comfortably. Challenged with a performance space as awkward as it gets locally, Moore whips us around it with confident skill and expertise that apart from bit of stiff neck, left us wholly satisfied. Evidence of Moore’s engaging his actors is the performance of Daniel Megaffin as the Adonis–like Rocky Horror. His lusty man–flesh is barely clothed with but a splash of red spandex tightly fitted to reveal hefty rolling stock, yet Megaffin delivers the character with such light–hearted and boyish insouciance one can only marvel and be entertained. Keeping everything well–focused is a Narrator, delivered to boring and droll perfection by Mike Queripel. Stage Manager Amanda N. Nesbitt is strong mistress of a sturdy crew. AJ Fleet designed moody lighting operated by Pat Sundermann and Monica Cairney, with effective sound operation from Bill McEwen. Carla Tilt’s inventive and clever costumes complete the picture.
For want of a spare tire, a run–of–the–mill–1950s–fright story escalates into a first class calamity of joyous sexual debauchery in Village Theatre’s current effort. One final weekend coming up. Don’t miss it. V