Let's do the Time Warp Again: The Perpetual Revival of Rocky Horror

Fifty years after its release, The Rocky Horror Picture Show is still luring audiences out of their comfort zones and into fishnets — so what is it about this low-budget, campy B-movie that is somehow still culturally relevant? And why, in 2025, are people still dressing up, shouting at the screen, and performing it live?

St Andrews is the perfect place to both ask and answer this question. On 22 September, the film was screened by the St Andrews Film Society, and on 31 October and 1 November at the Byre Theatre, Rocky Horror will be screened and staged with a shadow cast (a group of actors who perform alongside the film). 

The St Andrews production of Rocky Horror “has been going on for a number of years, at least since before the pandemic, from what I’ve heard,” said Ava Scarlett Daniels, the production’s director. “I believe it’s got its own cult following, gathering students and townies alike each autumn.” 

The film, which follows a modest engaged couple as they shelter from a storm in the castle of an eccentric “transvestite from Transexual, Transylvania,” is less concerned with plot than with spectacle, mixing sci-fi, glam rock, and gender-bending theatrics. 

For Daniels, the appeal of Rocky Horror is tied up in its defiant celebration of difference and transformation: “For me, the magic of Rocky Horror comes from discovering walks of life different to our own — and not just tolerating them, but embracing what is different and letting it transform us […] In today’s political climate, where the rights of women, immigrants, and transgender people are somehow shockingly put up for debate, loudly and proudly broadcasting this movie with its gender-bending alien wonderfulness is ever more needed.”

It’s hard to talk about Rocky Horror without talking about its place in queer cinema history. When it was first screened in 1975, it did so poorly at the box office that it was pulled from the majority of theatres showing it. However, it did so well at midnight screenings in Los Angeles that studio executives decided to see if it would attract fans at late-night screenings across America. That gamble paid off, and five decades later, it holds the title for the longest-running theatrical release in film history. 

Much of what has sustained Rocky Horror for so long is its enthusiastic fan base. From its earliest midnight screenings, the film attracted those who didn’t see themselves represented in mainstream media: LGBTQ+ individuals, gender nonconforming people, and anyone who felt like an outsider. The late-night showings, often hosted in urban cinemas far from the spotlight of daytime crowds, created a space where audiences could dress up, make noise, and be unapologetically themselves. 

One of the most interesting parts of Rocky Horror’s presence in 2025 is the way it interacts with the modern culture of political correctness. While today’s social environment often emphasises careful language, inclusivity, and sensitivity, the cultural ritual of Rocky Horror exists in the tension between conforming to those ideals and deliberately subverting them. The film thrives on irreverence, on pushing boundaries, and on revelling in camp excess — qualities that don’t always align with contemporary expectations around representation or respectability. 

For instance, one of the rituals of attending a screening of Rocky Horror is yelling “slut!” at the screen whenever the female protagonist, Janet, appears — despite her relatively modest behaviour compared to the film’s other characters. In many contemporary spaces, this kind of callout would be seen as misogynistic or inappropriate. But within the world of Rocky Horror, it’s understood as part of a tongue-in-cheek participatory performance, not a literal moral judgment. It’s a tradition that walks a fine line, and that’s exactly the point. Rocky Horror doesn’t ask its audience to behave well; it invites them to step outside the bounds of what’s acceptable and to partake in a kind of joyous, consensual chaos. 

In a cultural moment where many people feel exhausted by the pressures of ideological perfection, Rocky Horror is perpetually being revived because it allows for imperfection, contradiction, and release. It’s not above critique, but it also doesn’t apologise for what it is: a space where being messy, loud, and a little bit inappropriate is not only allowed, but encouraged.

Illustration by Lyla Ritzler