24, Lost, Prison Break, Fringe...all these series share their pedigree with the Alhambra...the Cliffhanger.
Every small town has one...the old movie theater. My Dad is 85 years old and this is the theater he went to as a kid. I use to love hearing the stories about how he would spend his whole week's allowance for the Saturday afternoon matinee...10 cents. What kept him coming back for more? The serials like Buck Rodgers. Each week the serial would end with Buck about to crash into a planet or his girl about to die at the hands of an evil alien. Dad would have to come back next week to see how Buck saved the day.
Even during the depression, the movie houses flourished. They were the only escape families like my Dad's had from the depression. At least for those two hours, they could forget about the job hunt, the bills, the drought and the War. This is where they got their news as well, aside from the radio. The newsreels would take them to far away places that they had only read about in a comic book late at night before they went to bed. The Alhambra is closed now but inside those doors still echo the sounds of rocket ships, Atlanta burning, Kansas tornadoes, Bogart, Gable, Indians on the warpath and a whispered "I love you" coming from a now empty seat in the 2nd row from the front. This is where my Dad dated my Mom.
I have often wondered if this is my release from some of those same things. My photos and narratives can take me away if only for a short time...I do so need both of them. Thanks for coming along with me.
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