I swear to all the gods, the Grim Reaper is really fucking up. It’s like he caught Mitch McConnell and decided to take the summer off, leaving some intern in charge who just does not understand the assignment.
While we were reeling from the loss of Dolly Parton, we found out that Tim Curry had passed away. Late last night, I heard that he passed on the same day as Dolly, but his estate kept the news private, so as not to step on her memory. That’s such a wonderful thing to do, and it doesn’t surprise me; as far as I can tell, listening to people who knew him, that’s exactly what he would have wanted.
Like a lot of Gen X theater kids, my introduction to Tim Curry’s existence was in a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show. I have never talked about it, ever, but one of the things I took away from my first viewing (my first experience, really) is that drag is more fun than you could ever imagine. I always wanted to do a full-on face and stuff, when I went to a show, but I never had the courage to risk my dad seeing me. So I’d borrow black lipstick and eyeliner from on of my friends, and put it on in the car.
My friend and I are going to a screening soon, and we are both going in full costume. She’s thinking Magenta, and I’m thinking Frank. We’ll see how it goes, and there will be pictures if it does.
Speaking of Gen X theater kids (we never really stop being those kids, do we?), Rocky Horror reassured me that there were lots and lots of weirdoes just like me, and they weren’t the scary deviants the news and my parents told me they were. They were lovely people who welcomed everyone with open arms into a safe place where we could all just … be.
(Don’t dream it, be it, right?)
Way back in 2008, when I was a baby writer, finding my voice and figuring out how I could tell stories like the storytellers I admired, I wrote a couple of blogs that helped me level up. One of them was about the first time I ever saw Rocky Horror Picture Show, when I was a weird teenager who desperately need to belong somewhere.
Today, as we remember and celebrate Tim Curry, I wanted to repost it as a tribute to a man who meant so much to so many.
A few days after my sixteenth birthday, I lost my Rocky Horror virginity with my best friend, in a shitty little duplex theater in Van Nuys.
I’d wanted to see Rocky since I was ten or eleven on my way to an audition and my mom drove us past a marquee advertising a midnight showing every Saturday. My parents couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me what it was about (my memory is hazy on that specific detail) but anything that happened at midnight on a Saturday sounded great to me. The creepy lettering and word “horror” in the title only increased my antici . . . pation.
Darin and I were at a place on Van Nuys Boulevard called Cafe 50s. These fifties cafes were everywhere in the eighties (some blame Stand By Me and Back to the Future for their popularity) but this particular one was my favorite. Though I’ve never actually been in a diner in the fifties, this one felt the most authentic, which means it copied what I’d seen in movies better than anything else, and had Del Shannon’s Runaway on the jukebox.
We gorged ourselves on patty melts and chocolate shakes and vanilla Cokes while we talked about all the things that seemed important after you discovered girls, like how to actually, you know, talk to one and convince her to take an unforgettable trip with you to second base for sixteen seconds of passion. We argued about the time travel paradoxes in Back to the Future, confirmed that quoting Monty Python to the 24 year-old waitress is not the best way to get a stand up double when you’re sixteen (or ever) and admitted that Michael Keaton was a vastly superior Batman than we’d been prepared to give him credit for. In other words, it was a Saturday night like any other, and as midnight (and the restaurant’s closing) drew near, our attention turned toward that most important of teenage activities: doing anything but going home.
“Have you ever seen Rocky?” Darin asked.
“God, I hate that stupid movie,” I said. “And the sequels are even worse. It’s like, we know he’s going to win, so why waste our time wi –“
“I mean Rocky Horror.” He said.
“Oh.” I said. “No, but I’ve always wanted to.”
“It’s playing across the street at midnight. We should go.”
As quickly as I’d gotten excited to see it, I lost my nerve. Through the pre-internet grapevine that gave teens of my generation the truth about Mikey from Life cereal (“Ohmygod he died by eating pop rocks and drinking coke”) I’d heard about Rocky virgins being deflowered in horrifying ways (“Ohmygod this guy I know went to see it in Santa Monica and they made him take off his clothes and wrote VIRGIN on his chest in lipstick!”)
“Don’t they do horrible things to people who haven’t seen it?” I said in my most nonchalant voice, grateful that it didn’t crack.
“Not really,” he said, “but if you’re worried about it, we won’t say anything.”
“Okay,” I said, my excitement returning.
The waitress came back by our table. “Can I get you guys anything else?”
Before I could demand a shrubbery, Darin said, “Could we get some slightly burnt white toast?”
The waitress and I gave him the same curious look. He smiled enigmatically.
Twenty minutes later, we bought our tickets, burnt toast in my pocket, butterflies rising in my stomach. We stood in a line that grew to about two dozen people and waited for the theater to open. I made nervous smalltalk with Darin, talking a little too loudly about the great cast they had in . . . I think I chose Huntington Beach.
The doors opened a few minutes before midnight, and we walked into a theater that, Tardis-like, seemed bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outsider: dirty blue and orange curtains hung on the walls. Two aisles separated three groups of squeaky blue seats. The floor was painted a dark navy blue — blue seemed to be a recurring theme in this particular theater — and was appropriately sticky. We chose seats on the aisle near the back. I should have been freaked out when a guy sat down a few aisles in front of us and lit a cigarette, but being rebel-adjacent excited me.
The theater quickly got as full as it was going to get. It seemed that most of the audience knew each other, especially the four people who huddled together at the front of the house, next to the screen.
A dude with long black hair and bright red lipstick emerged from the group, and spoke to the audience. I can’t remember what he said, because when he began, a hand tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up and saw the most phenomenally beautiful girl in the world standing in the aisle. She had short black hair in a Bettie Page cut, bright green eyes, full red lips. She wore a red corset that fit her . . . perfectly.
She bent over and said, “are you a virgin?”
I was, in every way that mattered, and in that moment I would have pushed my mother in front of a train on its way into a lake of fire if it meant that this girl would remove from me this . . . condition.
If I’d been standing, I’m certain I would have fainted. “W-what?” I stammered.
She extended one hand and caressed my face. She repeated herself, even more seductively than the first time.
My voice cracked as I said “YES!” a little too loudly.
Her eyes flashed and she squeaked – squeaked! – a little. “This is going to be fun.”
She stood up abruptly and hollered, “I have a virgin!”
“A VIRGIN!” Replied much of the audience.
Before I knew what was happening, she stood me up, had me repeat some oath that I’ve sinceforgotten, and spanked me. I remained fully clothed, but by the time I was done, I was soaked through after everyone in the theater sprayed me with their squirt guns and spray bottles. As quickly as it started, it was over, and she disappeared before I could get her number.
My deflowering was, like most people’s, nothing like I’d hoped for or expected, but it was still magical. I loved every second of it.
While other regulars repeated similar rituals with a few other virgins in the audience I looked at Darin. He looked back, mirroring my disbelief.
“That was awesome!” I said. Not only had a girl practically showed me her boobs, she’d touched my face! Seductively! And talked to me! And squirted me with a squirt gun! I was beside myself, and the movie hadn’t even started yet.
The lights went down, and the show began. I didn’t know any of the lines, but I quickly figured out what to yell at Brad and Janet. I threw my toast. I did the Time Warp. I watched the girl who’d taken my Rocky virginity play Magenta, which is probably why Magenta is still my favorite character in the whole show to this very day, twenty years later.
When it was over, we drove back to La Crescenta in my slightly-better-than-Patrick-Stewart’s Honda Prelude, blasting New Order the whole way with the sunroof open and the windows down. I dropped Darin off at his house, and though I got back to mine around 3, I didn’t fall asleep until the sun came up, I was so loaded with caffeine, sugar, adrenaline.
The movie, of course, was campy and not especially good, but that wasn’t the point. It was a shared experience, a place for misfits of all stripes to gather once a week, and fly our Transylvanian freak flags. For the next two years, Darin and I lead an ever-growing group of our friends to Rocky at least once a month, usually more, at the Rialto theater in South Pasadena. I haven’t been since 1991 or 1992, but those years — and the film itself — hold a very special place in my memory. Maybe, just once, I’ll go back to a midnight showing, just so I can do the Timewarp again.
I never did go to a midnight showing. I would be brutal on my middle-aged body to even try to stay awake that late … but caffeine exists, and there’s an energy that can infect and propel you all that way into the gloaming dawn, if you allow it. So … maybe. Maybe.
This story was fun to write back then, even though I can see all the incredibly rough edges now, that my experience and I want to sand off and rewrite. I suppose that’s part of its charm? Sure, we’re gonna go with that.
If you have a Tim Curry, or Dolly Parton, or Rocky Horror story you care to share, I’d love to hear it; I think all of us theater kids could use a big hug today, you know?
Hi, I’m Wil. I write this blog, and I’m glad you’re here. If you want to get my updates in your email, here’s the thingy:
I narrate short speculative fiction stories every week for my podcast, It’s Storytime With Wil Wheaton. This week’s episode is a gorgeous story called The Flaming Embusen by Tade Thompson. I also co-host the official companion podcast for Stuart Fails To Save The Universe with Felicia Day. Episodes for both shows are available wherever you get your podcasts.
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This is absolutely one of my personal favorites of anything you’ve ever eritten, Wil… because I can completely relate to it!
Thank you for telling it again and for reminding us what an amazing human Tim Curry was, and also Dolly. ❤️
We definitely all need a hug this week. It’s just too much.
That is a wonderful memory of your first experience seeing TRHPS. I have seen it over sixty times in theatre including many midnight showings, saw it once with the sequel Shock Treatment, once at a drive in and once dubbed into French ( singing was not dubbed). Also, I have sat in my movie zone at home and watched it countless more times just because I can. Last year at Frightmare in the Falls, I had the pleasure of meeting Barry Bostwick and we spoke for several minutes about TRHPS and Megaforce. He spoke fondly about his experiences making the movie and said something to the effect that he was surprised how much of a cult classic it had become over the years.
For some time, I played Rocky in a local Rocky Horror Review during the movie but later switched to Eddie. These were some of the most fun times of my youth with people from all walks of life getting together to enjoy a fun movie with great music. Tim Curry was exceptional in this and in every role he took on. RIP good sir.
We would go to the Rocky Horror midnight showing (at least I think it was midnight, it’s been more than 35 years) in the little cinema next to the campus. My alma mater was split into two campuses, north and south, and unfortunately my dorms were on the north campus, while the cinema was near the south. It was always a screaming good time, my first exposure to something so… weird (in the best possible way). I had no idea who I was yet—17-18 years old and, frankly, kinda sheltered—but it was so easy to embrace the weird.
For the longest time, though, I never saw the ending. We had to leave early to catch the last campus shuttle back to the north campus. I have vivid memories of running for my life (or so it felt like) across the street and down the block to the shuttle stop. Thank goodness I never missed it.
Rest well, Mr Curry. You will be missed, but you’ll also live on forever.
I did film programming for science fiction conventions back when it was actually projected with 16mm film. One year I got RHPS, and I showed it twice: one showing with no audience participation, one at midnight with full participation. People had fun.
Tim will definitely be missed, he entertained an awful lot of people through the course of his career.
At my first Rocky, they put a “V” on my cheek in lipstick, but they didn’t haze me. Just a few jokes initially. I had fun, but didn’t really get it. I saw it again a few years later, and I got it. I’ve seen it maybe half a dozen times since then, always on special events at midnight showings. And I love it every time. As I’ve said many times about several movies, it’s not really about the movie. But that place to belong is everything. I’ve never made the annual showing at Dragon Con, but every year, I aspirationally put it in my schedule. I know this year will be so full that I’ll probably get shut out if I try (and most likely I won’t make it up that late anyway), but maybe I’ll try. Maybe. Maybe. 😉
I don’t have a story to share, but I do have a big hug! HUGS
I took my (young adult) kid to RHPS for their first time just a couple of months ago (I think it was a 10:30pm show rather than midnight), glad we got to see it before he passed. My first time was 1987 I think? Went to a concert with some friends and got out about 11 and one girl said “Hey, we should go to see Rocky Horror” — I’d only ever heard the title before and had no idea what it was, and she didn’t really explain it (I’m not even sure whether or not she’d seen it before). Great shadow cast at that one, seen it maybe a couple of dozen times since at various venues (the first one got turned from a theatre into a nightclub/restaurant decades ago).
I saw the pre-broadway version of Amadeus at the National Theatre in Washington DC as the guest of Tim Curry because of a chance meeting in an elevator. I was in Washington DC for 3 weeks to conduct CAD training for my job. The company travel department happened to book me into the same hotel as the Amadeus cast was staying at.
One evening Tim got on the same elevator as me and I couldn’t help but gush to him about how much I loved his album that featured the song “I Do The Rock”. He was so tickled that I knew of and loved his album (which apparently is never what fans gush about in a chance meeting and was a pet project of his). He handed me two 4th row tickets for the Saturday matinee!! This was also my introduction to Ian McKellan who played Salieri. Such an amazing happenstance!! I always thought Tim should have been Mozart in the movie. He was brilliant!
I’ve been following your Tumblr page for quite some time (which I LOVE) and am finally taking the plunge and commenting/writing to you. And the reason is because of your RHPS experience.
I got my first job at a movie theater when I turned 16. I had always loved horror movies and this theater was the one in town that showed the RHPS every Friday and Saturday night at midnight. When I heard the title I thought it would be along the lines of Frankenstein or Dracula. Little did I know. I did wonder why some of the people showing up were dressed in costume, but didn’t connect the dots. (I was a bit naive.) As a closeted gay boy, my world completely changed after my first experience. It was a mixture of shock and awe and joy and liberation and defiance. This was 1978 and being anything outside the common gender stereotypes or heterosexuality was asking for ridicule, trouble, and attack.
In a matter of weeks, every Fri and Sat night, Lisa (my friend and co-worker) and I would do our reports, run out to smoke a joint and watch it. This went on until I went off to college in 1980. There were a few catalysts for my coming out, but I think RHPS was the most important and strongest. It forever changed the way I see other people and myself and showed me the courage I never knew existed within me. To be me.
I’m happy you got to experience it over and over, especially with an audience. It’s transformative! 😉
RIP Tim Curry
I was 14 when I went to see Rocky Horror for the first time. My friend’s dad took us and sat miles from us so we’d have fun. (he was AWESOME) Neither of us had any idea what the movie was going to be, absolute zero notion, we were just watching this weird, wild movie, and loving the strangest audience we’d ever been a part of…
I do remember being singled out as Virgins, no memory of how that went, lol. I do remember Tim’s entrance, the elevator and that stamping heel, when the doors opened and he turned around Amanda and I both stood up and screamed. I’ve loved him ever since. Frank was such a wild individual, so unbelievably bold to my barely teenage eyes, I felt like I met a spiritual leader or something. Like with so many, that movie spoke right to my heart: “Be YOU, you freaky little weirdo. There is NOTHING wrong with you.”
Naturally I saw the movie whenever I could after that, which wasn’t super often. I went as Columbia in Pajamas and mouse ears I got from a thrift shop. So many happy memories. I was devastated to hear Tim died. The teenager inside me will never recover even though I have to go on and I have to be functional. Part of me in under the bed crying and she just won’t be comforted right now.
Thank you for sharing, Wil. Now, as Frank would want, I am off to “Be it, don’t dream it.”
xxoo
Really enjoyed this, Wil. If you ever do go to another Rocky Horror, pictures would definitely be in order, and maybe even a video.
What a fun memory! The story of your palling around with Darin took me right back to spring/summer of 1988. 🙂
So, I have a for-fun movie blog, where I’m trying to watch through all of the movies in the “1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die” books. And yes ROCKY HORROR is in there. I’d already seen it in college, but went out for a rewatch in November when RHPS was celebrating an anniversary; my blog post is here. https://moviecrashcourse.com/2025/11/29/rocky-horror-picture-show-1975/
But – I also added an “audience participation” post, with some stories from friends and strangers, and a couple of the floor show cast members from NYC’s cast. The woman who played Rocky that night shared a story about how one night, when she was playing Janet, SUSAN SARANDON came to see it and was so chuffed she invited some of the cast to a private event later. She sent a picture as proof. I also got to commemorate the time I did The Time Warp one Mardi Gras with three women from Minnesota (they heaped praise on me after for “wow you know all the steps!” and I was too full of drunken good will to point out that the lyrics of the Time Warp TELL YOU what the steps are). https://moviecrashcourse.com/2025/12/11/the-rocky-horror-picture-show-audience-particpation/
I’m a weirdo in that I do not love the audience participation events for Rocky Horror! That was also my first experience seeing the movie, but I hated that I couldn’t hear all of the dialog or even keep track of what was happening throughout the film.
I will fight you defending the movie, though — it’s deliberately cheesy for a reason. It’s a hilarious send-up of old low-budget monster movies, with some pretty sharp social satire. The performances and costumes are great, and so are the songs. I have a DVD with lots of special features and have seen the stage version a couple of times, too. Much better without all of the distractions and interruptions from the audience (for me) — but for those who love that sort of thing, I admire the effort and energy that goes into it!
PS, Tim Curry is the sexiest thing ever
What a fun memory I have yet to be fortunate enough to go see it in an actual theater and have the full immersion experience, but I’m proud to say that I have shown it to so many people in my front room and got them all hooked and loving the Rocky horror movie
Love it! What a great memory!
Somewhere, there is an interview with 14 year old me and the local podunk town TV news channel, wherein I sing the solo part of Columbia from Time Warp. The movie was brought to our podunk, one-horse town by a weirdo that owned a small, crumbling movie theater from the 40s that was barely functional. At that time, I was the first punk ever to have lived there and people came from all around to gawp at the possibly-satanic-definitely-pornographic film that had attracted all of the undesirables. As far as the townsfolk were concerned, the fact that I was there was proof positive that the whole thing was unwholesome!
I moved away decades ago and have never told anyone I know that this footage exists. Not because I’m ashamed, but because I don’t want to see it or have anyone tell me about it and ruin the memory of what a good time I had being the source of the “satanic panic”. Best ever.
I love that you did this!