April marks the 50th anniversary of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show‘s” debut as a midnight movie at New York City’s Waverly Theater. It is the longest-running theatrical release in movie history.
“Rocky Horror” is the Rosetta Stone of cult films, that elusive stratum of film appreciation that cannot be manufactured. As Landmark Theatre’s film buyer and repertory programmer Mike DeLorenzo told IndieWire, “Slapping ‘instant cult classic’ on a poster doesn’t make the film one. The public does.” Many cult films were originally envisioned as major releases but failed to connect during their initial runs. They achieved cult status later as audiences discovered them, from John Carpenter’s “Big Trouble in Little China” to Mike Judge’s “Office Space.”
Cult film audiences feel an ineffable connection to a film and to each other. The general public may have been indifferent, but that is part of an outcast film’s appeal and lure: They don’t get it — we do. They gather at periodic screenings as a close-knit community to express their love, even if that love is shown by launching plastic spoons.
Below, and in spirit of the “Rocky Horror” 50th, IndieWire spoke to five especially passionate devotees to reflect on the film that changed their lives, broadened their horizons, and introduced them to kindred spirits.
The Volunteer Army Keeping Laurel and Hardy Alive
In 1965, then-eight-year-old Scott MacGillivray saw his first Laurel and Hardy movie on a “boring Saturday afternoon.” It was “The Big Noise.”
“It’s generally considered to be one of their worst films, but I didn’t know that then,” he said. “I loved it.”
That same year, John McCabe, author of the seminal 1961 biography, “Mr. Laurel and Mr. Hardy,” co-founded The Sons of the Desert with Orson Bean, comedian Chuck McCann, and others. It’s a Laurel and Hardy appreciation society “devoted to the preservation of their films and the encouragement of their showing everywhere,” according to its constitution.
Sixty-one years later, the members of the Sons of the Desert are still having the time of their lives. There are 48 chapters — or tents, each named after one of the team’s films — in America, 31 in England, and 39 in 15 other countries. The newest was established in Finland a month ago, according to MacGillivray, who joined the Sons at the age of 18 and is now its corresponding secretary and the “Grand Sheik” of the Brats tent based in Boston. He is also the author of the well-received book, “Laurel and Hardy: From the Forties and Forward.”
The Brats tent was among the first 10 established. “We are the old guard,” MacGillivray said. The first Monday of each month (excluding Labor Day), Brats members meet in a church hall in Newton, Massachusetts, to watch three hours’ worth of Laurel and Hardy features and shorts — as well as those of other vintage comedians, such as Buster Keaton (who has his own International Buster Keaton Society) — on 16mm film or video. The average age is 60.
The Sons of the Desert takes its name from one of Laurel and Hardy’s best films, in which the boys lie to their wives and sneak off to the titular fraternal organization’s annual convention. The organization adopted the SOD’s anthem, also courtesy of the film: “We are the Sons of the Desert / Having the time of our lives / Marching along, two thousand strong / Far from our sweethearts and wives / God bless them.”
Laurel and Hardy have a universal appeal that spans children to Lenny Bruce to Samuel Beckett, whose tramps in “Waiting for Godot” have the team in their DNA. MacGillivray finds their characters’ loyalty to each other “enormously appealing.” “When they’re tackling a project like rehabbing a boat or delivering a piano, they mostly function in an intimate world of their own with minimal interference,” he said. “Viewers who watch them become their friends.”
Indifferent syndicators kept Laurel and Hardy off television screens for two decades, MacGillivray said. “Generations grew up not knowing who they are. It’s up to the Sons of the Desert to keep the flag flying.”
God bless them.
“Rocky Horror” Is Where the Misfits Fit in
Jim Hetzer, 54, owes much to “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” He met his first wife at a screening. He got his job in the aerospace industry in part because his superiors were impressed by his “Rocky Horror” website — Cosmo’s Factory, the longest-running “Rocky Horror” site — at the dawn of the internet age. He wrote a book, “The Unofficial Rocky Horror Callback Script.”
What the film has given him most is a sense of community. “’Rocky Horror’ is where the misfits fit in,” he said. “I can go to a screening dressed any way I want, whether I go straight from work in a suit and tie or dressed in a giant chicken costume, which I have done. No one will make fun. It’s ‘Welcome to the show.’”
Hetzer first saw “Rocky Horror” on May 23, 1994, at Cincinnati’s Reel Movies (so momentous is “Rocky Horror” to fans that they remember milestones like this). “Some guys I was going to play guitar with asked what kind of music I liked,” he said. “I said, ‘Meat Loaf.’ They said, ‘You know he’s in a movie, don’t you?’ We went to see it, and he killed as Eddie. But I was uncomfortable with the movie and that environment. I had never been to a place where people ran around in their underwear, and I left after [spoiler alert] Eddie died. After about a month, I said I would watch the whole thing. I said, ‘This is kind of nice.’ I joined the shadow cast, and I instantly gained 20 friends.”
Hetzer now lives in Scranton, Pennsylvania. He lives with shadow cast members who have been doing shows for three decades. He estimates he has seen the movie upwards of 1,000 times and done almost 800 shows in the various cities in which he’s lived.
He is one of the few people to have won both the Boss Award, recognizing dedication to the “Rocky Horror” community, and the President’s Award given by the official fan club every 10-15 years. Still vivid in his memory is meeting Lou Adler, the film’s executive producer, on the occasion of its 25th anniversary. “He walked over and said, ‘I know who you are,’” Hetzer said. “That is one of the highlights of my life.”
Looking back on a lifetime with “Rocky Horror,” Hetzer basks in the tight-knit community that has each other’s backs, especially at a time when tolerance and inclusion are under attack. And he marvels at the impact this film has had on his life. “I never would have become an author,” he said. “I’m working on a book about the assassination of President James Garfield. And I certainly wouldn’t have been able to stand in front of 500 people, but I have been in shadow casts since 1992, and I have no stage fright at all. Because ‘Rocky Horror’ gave me confidence.”
The Unlikely Afterlife of “Somewhere in Time”
“Where else can a kid from Southeast Michigan end up hanging out with Jane Seymour, Richard Matheson, and Christopher Reeve?,” asked Steve Ellis, describing the “amazing thrill ride” of his association with “Somewhere in Time.” The 1980 romantic time-travel fantasy starring Reeve and Seymour as star-crossed lovers, divided by nearly seven decades, was not well-received by critics, but over the years, thanks to cable and home video, it has found a devoted audience who gather annually to celebrate the film.
Ellis, 71, is the event planner and emcee for the annual Somewhere in Time Weekend held at the Grand Hotel in Mackinac Island, Michigan, where the production was filmed. Last October marked the event’s 35th anniversary. He has served in his role for almost 30 years. (The Weekend is independent of INSITE, the International Network of Somewhere in Time Enthusiasts that was founded in 1990, and of which Ellis is a member.)
“This is going to sound sappy, but the shared experience of 700 people watching ‘Somewhere in Time’ in the theater where the film had its world premiere is absolutely amazing,” Ellis said. “It has become a tradition for everybody in the theater to stand up before we get started and greet one another and shake hands.”
Ellis, a professor of English at the University of Toledo, was present at the creation. In his mid-20s, he visited Mackinac Island, where his family vacationed when he was a child, to witness a day of filming with his then-wife. He happened to be a fan of Richard Matheson, who adapted his own novel “Bid Time Return” for the screen. “I went to see the film when it came out, and I got the sense I was the only person in the theater who liked it,” he said. “People were grumbling under their breath as they were walking out. The film closed quickly. Then a guy named Jerry Harvey started Z Channel, the legendary precursor to HBO. He played the movie relentlessly, and it gained a lot of traction.”
Not for nothing did Ellis write “The Somewhere in Time Trivia Book,” now being prepared for a fifth edition. He estimates he’s seen the film start to finish roughly 80 times. It never gets old. He called the film a “good old-fashioned throwback.” Its costume design was nominated for an Academy Award. John Barry’s lush romantic score was not, Ellis noted, but you can hear echoes of it in his Oscar-winning work for “Out of Africa.”
But most meaningful to him are the relationships he’s made over the years with the cast and crew. Christopher Reeve (“the nicest and most charming human being”) invited him to the ceremony enshrining Reeve on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. “It amazes me when I look at my phone, and I have a text message from Jane Seymour, who has attended the Weekend several times,” he said. “The people involved in making ‘Somewhere in Time’ are genuinely nice and delighted that people are still interested in a little film they made 46 years ago.”
“The Room” Gave Him a Wedding Vow
In his wedding vows, Michael Rousselet told his bride, “I love you more than the worst movie.” Which brings us to “The Room,” whose cult status as an interactive film experience on par with “Rocky Horror” has been credited to Rousselet, one of the film’s earliest, um, champions. “I can talk about ‘The Room’ forever,” Rousselet said.
“The Room” concerns a love triangle between Johnny (Wiseau), Lisa (Juliette Danielle), and Johnny’s best friend Mark (Greg Sestero, whose book “The Disaster Artist” about the making of the film became a critically acclaimed film directed by and starring James Franco). As with the hapless films of Ed Wood, such as “Plan 9 from Outer Space,” “The Room” displays ineptness on every level. “You wonder if the movie is going to make it to the end,” Rousselet said.
Rousselet first encountered the film via its “bombastic and confusing” trailer in 2003, then forgot about it until he and his friend, Scott Gairdner (who directed the Conan-as-Aunt-Gladys opening for this year’s Oscar broadcast), saw the film’s title on a marquee a month later. They pulled their car over instantly. The ticket taker, Rousselet recalled, tried to talk them out of buying tickets. A sign said that there would be no refunds after the film’s first 15 minutes. “It’s like they were daring us to see this movie,” he said.
They saw it in an empty theater. “We were ecstatic,” Rousselet said. Before it was over, he was calling friends on his phone and urging them to see it. He and Scott stayed for the next screening and opened the back door to let 15 of them in. “They were dying with disbelief,” he said. They saw the movie four times over the next three nights and brought over 100 people to see it. Rousselet decided to “‘Rocky Horror’ it up” in part by shouting call-backs to the screen inspired by the hecklers on “Mystery Science Theater 3000.” It was Rousselet’s inspiration to yell “Spoons” at the sight of inexplicable framed photos of cutlery. This evolved into the throwing of plastic spoons, which is now a screening staple.
“The Room” lives as a midnight movie in the grand “Rocky Horror” tradition. The Music Box Theatre in Chicago screens it every couple of months, and “a few hundred people turn out every time,” according to programmer Rebecca Lyon.
Rousselet, 42, the director of “Dude Bro Party Massacre 3 ”(there is no 1 or 2), produced by the collective 5secondfilms, which has its own cult following, insists he genuinely loves “The Room.” He has seen it upward of 200 times, been invited to “guest-heckle” it during a cinema class at his alma mater, the University of Southern California, and has a cameo in “The Disaster Artist” high-fiving Franco’s Wiseau during the film’s disastrous premiere.
“It is endlessly entertaining,” Rousselet said, “which is more than can be said for most conventionally bad films. ‘The Room’ is constantly rewarding you. The main character isn’t Johnny. It’s the movie itself.”
The Tiny Film About Beavers That Kept a Beloved Seattle Theater Alive
With cult films, as with real estate, location is everything. Jack Bereiter lives in Seattle, where Mike Cheslik’s “Hundreds of Beavers” ran monthly for two years at the Grand Illusion Cinema. The city’s longest-running theater lost its lease in 2025, but you can’t keep “Hundreds of Beavers” down. While the theater seeks a new space, fellow indie theater Central Cinema is carrying on the screenings with 60 percent of its ticket sales going to Grand Illusion’s relocation fund.
Trevor Brandt, Grand Illusion’s lead programmer, credits “good old-fashioned word of mouth” for “Hundreds of Beavers”’ growing cult status. “Before every showing, we asked audiences who was seeing it for the first time, and 80 percent would raise their hands,” he said.
How does one even describe “Hundreds of Beavers”? Let’s just say that if you love silent comedies, slapstick, Tex Avery cartoons, and the sight of beaver cosplay, this is the movie for you.
Bereiter saw it for the first time last January with his roommate at the Central Cinema, which is a 15-minute walk from his house. “I had heard nothing but great things,” he said. “I saw it, and I was absolutely blown away. The second time I saw it was with a co-worker, their partner, and a couple of friends. Half of us had seen it, and half had not. It was the perfect split of new amazement and continued amazement.”
This is music to Jessica Rosner’s ears. Rosner is the independent film booker who has been instrumental in getting “Hundreds of Beavers” into theaters. “Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined ‘Beavers’ would still be playing in theaters more than two years after it opened,” she said. “It’s wonderful that it’s gaining this cult audience, but it is a truly great movie that I love.”
Cult films — well, all films really, but especially cult films — thrive on the shared theatrical experience. Bereiter bought a copy and lent it to his father, who tried watching it at home. “He said it was not for him,” Bereiter said. “But I’m going to try to get him to see it in a theater because it is so fun. Everybody is just so giddy.”
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