There are a lot of well-chronicled reasons to go to Tampa Theatre. I found two more over a recent weekend.
One was to escape football. The agony of defeated USF, UF and Penn State had taken its toll, and I had a premonition about the Bucs gift-wrapping another opponent’s victory.
The other was to catch the Rosa Rio show.
She’s the 105-year-old Wurlitzer icon, who still performs before and during Tampa Theatre’s periodic showings of silent films. Most recently it was the Sunday matinee featuring that hauntingly creepy, 1922 classic, Nosferatu , the first screen version of Dracula.
Nearly 900 showed.
“Rosa is a rock star,” explained Tara Schroeder, Tampa Theatre’s programming director. “She has her groupies. They wait for her in the lobby afterwards. They want her autograph and they buy her CDs.”
The audience was an eclectic mix. From high school students curious about silent films and a legendary centurion to Sun City Center seniors coming to see one of their own. Although “senior” can seem a bit too junior for a 105-year-old. For one who played her first silent-film gig during the Howard Taft administration. Aunt Tiquary, anyone?
Given that this was the Sunday before Halloween, Rosa’s entrance was thematic. After her skeleton-bedecked Wurlitzer had slowly and eerily ascended amid plumes of smoke, she arrived separately – in a coffin.
Macabre? More like incongruous.
After doffing her red cape and hood, Rosa revealed a stage presence that was spunky and funny. She knows her way around a one-liner and can obviously work a house. Her voice was strong yet genteel; her New Orleans’ roots still apparent. She played “The Funeral March of the Marionettes” (still “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” to me) with gusto. Then she inimitably implored the audience to participate in Nosferatu .
“Feel free to applaud or hiss,” she instructed, “but don’t drown out the music.”
She settled in at the Wurlitzer — at orchestra-pit level, so she could see the movie as well as the music. And for a guy on the lam from all things gridiron, Tampa Theatre was once again a transporting experience. It was another era, another art form. One where the accompanist deserved her top billing. One where the experience was anything but silent.
At the conclusion, a beaming Rosa was accorded a standing ovation and presented with a bouquet of red roses.
“She’s a very positive person, and she loves what she does,” says Schroeder. “She is passionate about it. Her life is fulfilled if she can share her gift. We all just love her.”