Tim Curry’s devilish charm was irresistible

The seduction of sin was only theoretical to me until I fell for Tim Curry’s performance in “Legend.”

That title may be unknown to many, although the British actor’s talent for prompting debauched thoughts in his audience surely is not. Curry, who died Tuesday at the age of 80, is best remembered for originating the role of Dr. Frank-N-Furter in both the stage and film versions of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” Every star who has taken up the character’s corset and garters since has followed his lead.

Some, like Anthony Head, come close to recreating his magic. But none can hope to surpass Curry’s delectably lusty rendition of the “sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania,” who rules midnight movie cosplay singalongs even now.

Curry was also the first to don Pennywise’s grease paint and ghoulishness for ABC’s 1990 miniseries adaptation of Stephen King’s “It.” Pennywise’s menace is obvious: He’s evil made manifest, assuming the form of a clown to coax children into the sewers beneath Derry, Maine. Curry made him a Bozo hiding sharp teeth, which was terrifying but not alluring in the least.

But as the Lord of Darkness, the massively built ruler of the underworld in Ridley Scott’s underappreciated fantasy, Curry embodied a paradox. On the one hand, Darkness’ giant black horns, glowing eyes and claws declare his absolute malice from the moment he appears onscreen, mournfully slumped on a throne.

And yet, this villain’s fiery domain, where imps torture souls nearby, is also recognizably Dionysian. Near Darkness lurks a table laden with sugar-crusted fruit and an elaborately stemmed flute holding what looks like champagne. Within arm’s reach is a carved bust of what could be a cherub—smatterings of beauty and delight among the hideousness.

Then Curry, undulating ever so slightly, delivers his first lines in a cavernous register, seated someplace between a purr and a growl. “Mother Night! Fold your dark arms about me. Protect me in your black embrace!” Many decades later I can still recall how that introduction made me feel.

(Courtesy Everett Collection) Tim Curry as the Lord of Darkness in the 1985 fantasy film “Legend.”

Here I was, a very Catholic preteen watching a PG-rated flick my mother rented under the assumption that it was a harmless fable about unicorns, getting turned on by the most satanic version of Satan I’d ever seen in any film before that and since. Even after Darkness kidnaps one of those fantasy creatures to kill it, even after he absconds with Mia Sara’s virginal Princess Lili, I could envision succumbing to his romantic overtures.

That’s why Scott tapped Curry to play his demon.

“Legend” wasn’t intended as a vehicle for any actor. Although the film was Tom Cruise’s earliest foray into action-adventure, emerging before 1986’s “Top Gun” buried its cultural legacy, any fresh Hollywood face could have played Scott’s fairy-tale hero. Allegedly, Johnny Depp was under consideration for a time.

But only Curry could create the kind of monster Scott wanted – a villain emanating something more complex than evil. Wickedness, maybe. Wickedness is fun. The director saw Frank-N-Furter’s effect on his audience and wagered, correctly, that the actor would make dancing with the devil look kinda hot, no pun intended.

The original version of William Hjortsberg’s script took Darkness’ courtship of Lili to sadomasochistic extremes, employing a whip in his overly sexual seduction attempts. (He was also branded with the purply gothic moniker of Baron Couer de Noir.) Placed in Curry’s hands many more PG-appropriate drafts later, Darkness becomes something more complex: a sensualist, a damaged and forlorn beast, but also dangerous.

Darkness’ bass register, augmented to achieve a resonance much deeper than Curry’s natural voice, leaves no room for any possibility of redemption, but plenty for the notion that an innocent like Lili might slip over to the dark side. When she rebuffs him by calling him an animal, he smiles widely, showcasing fangs one could rightly describe as gorgeous, and coos, “We are all animals, my lady.”

In 2012, Curry suffered a massive stroke requiring brain surgery that left him with limited mobility; as recently as last year, when he released his memoir “Vagabond,” he could not walk.

But at his career’s apex, Curry conveyed a novella’s worth of feeling through a flexible expressiveness that made him a theatrical force. Whether he played obvious heels like Rooster Hannigan in 1982’s “Annie” or ambiguous parts such as Wadsworth the butler in 1985’s “Clue” or Mr. Hector, the Plaza Hotel’s concierge in “Home Alone 2: Lost in New York,” it was impossible for Curry to play small. He didn’t have to headline a film or TV episode to make his mark. One guest-star appearance in an episode of “Tales From the Crypt” earned him a primetime Emmy nomination. However, his sole Emmy win was for voicing Captain Hook in the 1991 animated children’s series “Peter Pan & the Pirates.”

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Playing Darkness, however, required him to be engulfed in prosthetics that took 5 ½ hours to apply, including painting his face and torso in red makeup, and an hour to soak it all off at the end of each production day. Stories about his displeasure with that challenge are myriad, but final cut’s result is stunning, and not merely for the visuals. Curry pressed a bewitching soulfulness through all those layers of spirit gum and latex. He is entirely unrecognizable save for his essential, singular ability to captivate. And once we were under his spell, it wasn’t hard to swoon him afterward, almost every time.

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