The Rocky Horror Show - in its several incarnations, first as a stage musical, then as a film, and finally as its endlessly running combination of the two - is iconic in spite of itself. Richard O'Brien's original play was created at a time when cult productions and irony weren't as fervently pursued as they are now, even though the musical takes its inspiration from sci-fi and horror B-movies that today seem custom-made for cult worship. The film version found fame for its sheer metric tonnage of camp, not for a script that made any semblance of sense.

In short, the show has always been a blithering mess, but that's a huge part of its charm. The inspired overacting of the film cemented its status as a camp classic, and its life as the paragon of audience participation grew in an admirably organic way. So, after years of Rocky Horror living in arthouses and thriving on a regimented-yet-chaotic cacophony of ritualistic shouting and flamboyance, how does it hold up to returning to its roots in the theater?

Rocky Horror, as staged by Lakewood Playhouse, retains its status as an overlong, aggressively silly, and poorly structured shambles - but it also carries with it the charm that comes with being such a hot mess. As the pathologically square Brad and Janet, Jake Atwood and Jenna McRill play perfect foils to the insanity that greets them at a castle, after their car breaks down. There, as anyone who ever ventured downtown in their teenaged years would tell you, they meet Riff Raff (Gary Chambers), Magenta (LaNita Hudson), Columbia (Winnie Bean), a whole host of Transylvanians, and eventually mad scientist and many people's sexual awakening, Dr. Frank N. Furter (Brandon Bunnie Ehrenheim).

Everyone knows the gist of the plot that comes after, but even if they weren't, it wouldn't hardly matter. Rocky Horror's plot is a wire hanger upon which to hang copious amounts of cheese, giddy sexuality, ‘50s indebted rave-ups, half-baked sci-fi conceits, and tongue-in-cheek violence. Your measure for how much enjoyment you'll get out of this show is your tolerance for audience participation. Director Alan Wilkie and his cast and crew have, maybe rightly, made the decision not to shy away one bit from the rowdy environment of Rocky Horror's typical presentation. Not only do the actors pause for audience call-outs, but the onstage band shouts out their own from time to time.

Given how committed this Rocky Horror is to honoring the original midnight movie iconography, it shouldn't come as a surprise that the actors err toward imitating the performances from the film, to differing results: no one can touch Tim Curry, but Ehrenheim does well in capturing Curry's bombast and gender-bending allure; as the titular Rocky, Tony Williams shows himself to be a gifted physical comedian; and Hudson nails "Science Fiction/Double Feature," my favorite song of the show. As a whole, the production is perhaps too indulging in having a dialogue with the audience, and the use of mics allowed a fair amount of technical issues, but Rocky Horror has always been married to bedlam.

The Rocky Horror Show, 8 p.m. Thursday, Friday and Saturday; 2 p.m. Sunday, through Jan. 29; midnight Jan. 20 and 27, $25-$30, Lakewood Playhouse, 5729 Lakewood Towne Center Blvd., Lakewood, 253.588.0042, lakewoodplayhouse.org