Fresh off the success of the irreverent Broadway sensation Oh, Mary!—which earned him a Tony Award for Best Direction in 2025—Sam Pinkleton is pivoting toward a project even more subversive, queer, and sonically explosive: Richard O’Brien’s The Rocky Horror Show.
“Mere seconds before we started this conversation, Rocky was being birthed in Frank’s laboratory,” Pinkleton shares with a laugh, dressed in a skater cap and a graphic tee. “Every morning in the rehearsal room, I have to pinch myself. I can’t believe this is our reality.”
For those steeped in the lore of queer counterculture, Pinkleton’s excitement is palpable. For the uninitiated, it’s an invitation to a world of deliciously deviant imagery. On March 26, Manhattan’s legendary Studio 54 will host a new iteration of the classic, bringing Brad, Janet, Frank-N-Furter, and the Riff Raff back to the spotlight. The ensemble is a curated fever dream of talent: Rachel Dratch, Andrew Durand, Luke Evans, Amber Gray, Harvey Guillén, Stephanie Hsu, Juliette Lewis, Josh Rivera, and Michaela Jaé Rodriguez.
Originally a West End hit in 1973, The Rocky Horror Show had a fleeting Broadway run in 1975, the same year its cinematic counterpart, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, began its ascent to cult immortality. After a brief revival in 2000, the show is now returning to the Great White Way in 2026. But how do you perform a “Frankenstein facelift” on a masterpiece that is already defined by its eccentricities? Pinkleton took a moment to discuss his vision for this reimagining and his indirect “romantic game of telephone” with the show’s creator, Richard O’Brien.
A Legacy of Liberation
How did Rocky Horror first enter your orbit, and how has your relationship with it evolved?
It was always there, lurking in my periphery as an artsy kid in a small town. I recognized the iconography long before I saw the actual production. Truthfully, it didn’t fully resonate with me until I saw it in college, and even then, it felt a bit overwhelming. It didn’t become essential to me until about seven or eight years ago while talking to my friend Pam MacKinnon at A.C.T. in San Francisco. We were brainstorming the most exhilarating show we could put in a 1,200-seat theater, and the only answer was Rocky Horror.
Watching it again, I realized what I had been missing. It’s a classic narrative of: I wish I’d seen this at 14; it would have saved me years of inner turmoil. As I began developing this production, I realized how many people have literally had their lives saved by this material. It’s a massive community.
You’ve mentioned being moved by the “shadow cast” culture in New York. How does that translate to a Broadway stage?
Seeing a shadow cast at Village East was one of the most poignant experiences of my life. The militancy and devotion of the fans are staggering. As a director, you’re always trying to figure out how to make an audience care about the same thing at the same time. The Rocky community figured that out decades ago, and they do it better than traditional theater ever does.
Casting the Chaos
This cast is incredibly eclectic. How central were you in assembling this specific group of performers?
I was deeply embedded in every step of the process. My directive to the casting team was simple: I wanted the audience to look at the stage and wonder, “How did this specific collection of humans end up in the same room?” That sense of accidental community is the soul of Rocky Horror.
Broadway has a tendency to muscle shows into being “splashy musicals,” but Rocky resists that. We have a thousand-seat venue filled with people whose experiences range from “This is my religion” to “I wish they were doing a traditional play.” The goal is to create access points for everyone. We have a cast of “tender weirdos”—from Broadway veterans like Amber Gray and Stephanie Hsu to icons like Juliette Lewis and Michaela Jaé Rodriguez.
With nine Broadway debuts in the cast, is there a different energy in the room?
There is a wonderful, productive chaos. We have people from Hollywood, West End veterans, and Brooklyn queer icons like Paul Soileau (CHRISTEENE). There’s a cross-pollination of skills happening. I have a strict “no-assholes” policy, and this group is led by a genuine affection for the material. We aren’t trying to smooth out the edges—that’s the quickest way to kill the spirit of the show.
Respecting the “Unbroken” Score
Musically, how are you and Kris Kukul approaching these iconic songs? Are you modernized them?
My “North Star” for this production is: Don’t fix what isn’t broken. These songs have endured for over half a century for a reason. Rocky Horror is the grandfather of the modern rock musical—cooler than Hair or Jesus Christ Superstar because it isn’t even trying to be cool. We’re sticking to a gritty, five-piece rock band. We don’t want to “Broadway it up” or make it sound like 2026. It’s just raw, ’70s rock ‘n’ roll. As Richard O’Brien says, just make sure the lyrics are heard.
Are there any deep cuts making it into this version?
Yes! “Once in a While,” the Brad song that was famously excised from the film, is making the cut. It’s time to let Brad have his moment.
The Responsibility of the “Swing”
You’re aware that some purists might be skeptical of a new Broadway take. How do you handle that pressure?
I find it liberating. Rocky Horror actively embraces contradictions, which is a rare thing in 2026. Our brains want everything to be one thing, but Rocky refuses that. These characters belong to everyone now. We are taking a “big, muscular, heartfelt swing” at the material. If everyone looked at it through only my eyes, it wouldn’t be interesting. I’m taking this puzzle seriously—but not too seriously, because that’s how you lose the magic.
