Spokane’s Absolute Pleasure
At the Garland Theater, midnight feels less like an ending and more like an invitation.
I have been attending live shadow cast performances of The Rocky Horror Picture Show since I was sixteen, and every time I step into that theater, I feel the same overwhelming sense of queer community. It is loud. It is chaotic. It is unapologetic. It is the kind of space where you are allowed to take up room. That feeling is what makes this piece so personal to me.
For Bailey Olson, that sense of belonging started even earlier.
Bailey joined Spokane’s Absolute Pleasure shadow cast at fourteen, with her mom’s full permission. By then, she had already been attending shows for about a year. When the cast mentioned they needed Transylvanians, a small ensemble role that appears in two sections of the film, she immediately tried to talk to anyone she could. She soon realized she actually knew the family running the cast and begged to join.
Rocky Horror had always been part of her life. She grew up watching the film with her mom, long before she fully understood the plot or the cultural weight behind it. Even at six years old, she loved it. She did not need to understand every reference to feel its pull.
Her first midnight showing was in February 2016. She and her best friend showed up in winter coats and boots, unaware of the etiquette, unaware that people dressed up. She remembers feeling out of place. But what she remembers most clearly is looking at the performers in front of the screen and thinking, I want to be doing that. I want to be up there with my friends, making people laugh.
From that point on, she never stopped showing up. Even when she was not performing, she attended every show. When the minimum age requirement to perform was raised while she was sixteen, she was heartbroken. Still, she did not miss a single performance. When everything reopened after lockdown and she had turned eighteen, she immediately messaged leadership to ask to come back. She wanted Absolute Pleasure to know she was there for them, not just the stage.
If you have never attended a shadow cast performance, Bailey describes it as weird, but in the best way. It is a room full of people of all ages throwing themselves into something theatrical and absurd simply for the joy of it. Absolute Pleasure has been performing since 1989, originally at the Magic Lantern before growing into larger venues as demand increased. It has always been deeply homegrown. Bailey remembers seeing leadership personally handing out flyers downtown, blue beard and bright glasses unmistakable, asking local businesses to hang them up.
Rocky has thrived in Spokane because it is generational. Just as Bailey’s mom introduced her to the film, she plans to introduce it to her own future family. She also believes it has endured because it remains a staple within the queer community. As LGBTQ spaces have closed across Spokane, Rocky has continued. If there is no space, they find one. If there is no stage, they build one.
Bailey has played nearly every role in the film except two, but she most often performs as Janet. She loves Janet’s evolution. At first, Janet appears as the stereotypical naïve fiancée, but as the story unfolds, she claims her sexuality and steps into her own agency. Bailey connects deeply with that shift. Janet begins as a follower until she is not. The role also allows her to interact with nearly every character, which makes rehearsals especially collaborative.
Absolute Pleasure is an amateur cast. No one is paid. Most members work full time jobs. Rehearsals typically happen weekly during the season, but scene partners often coordinate on their own time. Costumes are made and funded out of pocket, with a few staple pieces that have been with the cast longer than Bailey has been alive. Before each show, you are likely to find the cast gathered behind the theater, sharing a cigarette and hyping each other up before stepping into the lights.
One of Bailey’s most memorable moments came when Absolute Pleasure was selected as the shadow cast for Little Nell’s fiftieth anniversary tour. During “Time Warp,” she joined them on stage. The cast’s reactions were completely genuine. Shock. Joy. Disbelief. Another highlight is the cast’s “Fuck Up Night” performances, where no one knows which role they are playing until the audience does. It is chaotic and unpredictable, and somehow that makes it even more alive.
As a queer person, Bailey says Rocky has always been the place where she feels most able to express that part of herself. She describes herself as straight passing in everyday life, but inside the theater she has never felt more openly queer. When you walk into a showing of Rocky Horror, you know you are surrounded by other people who are a little different, a little strange, a little outside the norm. No one is better or worse than anyone else in that room.
She believes Rocky continues to serve as a safe space. The movie itself is outrageous and strange, alien transsexuals creating life and committing murder, but that absurdity is part of its freedom. It creates a space where being “too much” is the expectation, not the exception.
Being part of Absolute Pleasure feels like being accepted and supported. When her name is called during cast call and she hears the audience applaud, she does not have words for it. It is the best feeling in the world.
“Rocky has given me everything,” she says. “I would not be the person I am today without it.”
Audience participation is central to the ritual. When Frank calls for a toast to the creation of Rocky, there is literal toast in the prop bags. At one show, a cast member seated in the front row followed the flying bread with the perfectly timed line, “Who the fuck threw a Poptart?” It became a recurring moment that still makes Bailey break mid performance.
First timers often misunderstand the plot, and that is okay. Bailey’s advice is simple. Enjoy the ride. You will understand more the next time. The rotating cast keeps the experience fresh. Some performers play only a couple of characters. Others play nearly everyone. It keeps both the cast and the audience on their toes, and even the imperfect moments become part of the charm.
Valentine’s shows bring playful costuming, more hearts, more pinks and reds layered over the usual black. The performance itself remains just as chaotic and electric. Rocky makes for a great date night, as long as you are comfortable talking and yelling during the movie. No one is judging. You can whisper questions, laugh loudly, or fully immerse yourself. Everyone is too busy participating.
If Rocky Horror were a love language, Bailey does not hesitate. Physical touch. See “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me.”
In 2026, Rocky Horror still matters because it is a generational cult classic. It is important to remember where we came from and the work queer elders did to carve out spaces like this. For Bailey, and for so many in Spokane, Rocky is more than a midnight movie.
It is movement. It is ritual. It is chosen family.
Rocky Horror is family.
Catch Absolute Pleasure at the Garland Theater on April 11th at 9 PM, and June 13th, August 22nd, and October 31st at midnight, because the invitation never really expires.
