MIDNIGHT MASS: MY LITTLE SAN FRANCISCO CULT
Hello ghouls, I’m Peaches Christ, and once upon a midnight dreary (okay, 1998), I started a drag‑fuelled movie series at a single screen movie house in the San Francisco Inner Richmond distric that somehow turned into a full‑blown cult. Midnight Mass began as my excuse to dress‑up with my friends, thrill and torment audiences, and worship my favorite films on the big screen alongside a few hundred cinematic degenerates in attendance.
About This Archive (From Your High Priestess)
Midnight Mass was never designed to be tidy. It was cheap costumes, ambitious ideas, broken set pieces, and a congregation of queers and weirdos who showed up ready to scream along with their favorite movies. We were too busy hauling props down the street to think, “Gee, we should meticulously document this for future generations.”
Cut to now: I’m older, only slightly wiser, and slightly sentimental. This archive is my love letter to those nights, to everyone who helped me pull them off, and to the fans who treated a midnight show like a religious obligation. Here you’ll find timelines, posters, photos, and whatever video survived the fog machines and my questionable sense of stage safety. It’s not a pristine museum—think of it more like rummaging through my storage unit, only without the dust, Martiny’s corpse, and broken mannequins.
How to Use the Timeline (A Guided Pilgrimage)
I’ve organized this as a timeline so you can chart the evolution of our little cult: from those first summers at the Bridge Theatre, to bigger, louder, and more dangerous shows, and eventually to our grander escapades at the Castro. Start anywhere. Drop into a year, find the show you attended (or wish you had), and see what we managed to dig up.
Some entries are fully documented with dates, films, and guests. Those are the nights that left a paper trail—posters, ticketing pages, press coverage, or my own notes. Others will be stitched together from fan memories and fuzzy recollections, clearly labeled so you know when we’re relying on the congregation’s nostalgia rather than a receipt. Midnight Mass has always belonged as much to the audience as to me, and this timeline reflects that.
Posters & Promotional Blasphemy
Before every show, there was a poster. Sometimes that meant a quick photocopy run and a Sharpie; sometimes it meant elaborate artwork that made the film’s original marketing look downright tasteful. The visuals were my way of announcing, “Yes, we’re doing something deranged with this movie, and you’re absolutely invited.” Almost ALL of the poster designs were crafted by artist Chris Hatfield.
In this archive you’ll see how those posters evolved—from scrappy DIY flyers to full‑blown key art campaigns. Each one is paired with its corresponding show, so you can trace the themes, the recurring obsessions, and the ways we twisted beloved films into new, deeply inappropriate shapes. If a particular poster lives in your memory as the moment you first heard about Midnight Mass, I hope seeing it here feels like running into an old friend… who once hit you with a prop onstage.
Photos: Evidence from the Crime Scene
I’ve always said the audience was half the show—and sometimes the more prepared half. You came in full drag, full horror, full fantasy, and occasionally full nudity (we remember you). The photos in this archive are receipts: crowd shots, costume contests, backstage disasters, and onstage moments that probably should have required waivers.
You’ll spot familiar faces—my dear collaborators, beloved queens, cult‑film icons, and local legends—alongside fans who turned the aisles and balcony into their own runway. If you find yourself in these photos, thank you. You helped build this mythology, one flash‑blinded moment at a time.
Video Relics: Moving Proof It Really Happened
For years, people would leave a show and say, “No one’s ever going to believe this happened.” Every once in a while, someone had a camera rolling, and that’s the footage you’ll find here. Introductions. Q&As. Musical numbers that were rehearsed (or not). Audience rituals that would get us all arrested if we tried them today.
Whenever possible, I’ve linked those videos directly to the shows in the timeline. Think of it as a patchwork documentary: not a polished feature, but glimpses of a nightlife tradition that thrived in the dark. If you weren’t there, this is as close as we can get without inventing time travel. If you were there, consider this a chance to relive it with slightly better lighting.
From Live Shows to the Midnight Mass Podcast
The spirit of Midnight Mass never really went away; it just found new ways to haunt you. These days, I co‑host the Midnight Mass podcast with filmmaker Michael Varrati, where we continue the tradition of worshipping cult movies—only now you don’t have to line up on Geary or in the Castro to join us.
This archive connects the old rituals to the new ones. You’ll see shows that inspired podcast episodes, films that became recurring obsessions, and events that laid the foundation for the audio version of our cult. Whether you met me in the sticky aisles of a midnight screening or through your headphones, this is all part of the same ongoing, ever‑mutating Mass.
Help Me Finish the Story
Here’s the truth: I don’t remember everything. (Do you?) There are seasons where the only record is someone’s shoebox of flyers, a half‑faded ticket stub, or a blurry photo from a long‑dead phone. That’s why I’m asking for your help.
If you have posters, pictures, programs, or simply a clear memory of a specific Midnight Mass show, I’d love for you to contribute. This archive will grow as we uncover more artifacts, confirm more dates, and piece together the timeline from both official records and the congregation’s stories. Midnight Mass has always been bigger than any one queen onstage; this is our chance to prove it, one resurrected memory at a time.
Your Memories Belong in the Archive
Help preserve the wild, glamorous and gloriously unhinged history of Midnight Mass. Send us your photographs, video, audio, posters, programs, ticket stubs and firsthand memories.
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