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Curry was the mad scientist of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, resplendent in black satin and bad manners. Here he is a figure of more majestic maleficence. Sprawling in the lubricious gloom of his lair, he looks like a huge Naugahyde goat demon who has been flayed and candied, then served sweet- and-sour at a Chinese restaurant in Middle-Earth. "I require the solace of shadows," he purrs to the benighted Lili. "Neath the skin, we are already one." And he leads her into a dance that black magically turns this virgin into Salome, fit for a satyr king. The film has grown up now; this is a bedtime story peopled with creatures of enticement and desire. Though Jack comes to the rescue, and Lili comes to her senses, their victory rings hollow. For the erotic legend that brings Legend alive is older than King Arthur, let alone Luke Skywalker. It is as old as the Eve in every woman and the snake in every man.