Dear Sirs and Ladies of the Alamo Drafthouse,
Today, as you announce your plans to expand to Raleigh, my heart is filled with anguish. It appears you’ve been up to the devil’s business, propagating and expanding your family of movie houses further into the east. Much like a little desert flower spreading into new climes, your brand has been overly-blessed. And yet your seed has found no purchase in Atlanta, as the prejudices of others conspire to keep us without an Alamo Drafthouse to call our own.
Now y’all who are without sin can cast the first stone, but I think it is unfair that some should have so many while others should have so few. We need an Alamo in Atlanta, and y’all have more than you can handle in Austin. There’s what’s right and there’s what’s right and never the twain shall meet.
I look back on my days living in Austin, the salad days as they say, with sunset colored glasses. Alamo Drafthouse Films, Master Pancake shows, sing-alongs, special guests, premiers, Fantastic Fest, circular-shaped balloons. Where else could one go one a Saturday morning to watch cartoons and eat some mighty fine cereal flakes in their pajamas (you know jammies….with yodas and shit on ’em)? The wife and I would frequent your establishment to chow down almost weekly. It was our go-to for socializin’ and relaxin’ as a family unit, while acquirin’ an appreciation of the finer things in life.
Comparatively, the experience at Atlanta theaters seem as dry and bitter as the hot prairie wind. Each screening rife with the unsophisticated banter of hayseeds speaking out of turn. Concessions that taste like sand. Staff that have lost all interest in housekeeping. We’ve nearly been driven to the point of giving up going out to the movies at all as we find ourselves sitting listlessly in front of the tv at home, scanning Netflix. Surely, there has to be a way for us to break out of this prison of big corporate theatre chains. The wife and I can’t be alone in feeling that these institutions no longer have anything to offer us.
I still hold on to this dream. A dream years, years away. A dream where I can see myself sitting in a theatre, and people weren’t talking. And the food was good. And you could drink a beer too. And I don’t know. You tell me. This whole dream, is it wishful thinking? Am I just fleeing reality like I know I’m liable to do? It seemed real. It seemed like Atlanta and it seemed like, well, an enjoyable movie-going experience. If not Atlanta, then a land not too far away. Where all patrons are silent and respectful and happy and all the staff are friendly and efficient. I don’t know. Maybe it was Decatur.
Nick from Atlanta.