What We Lose with the Closure of Theaters Like the Angelika Plano

When I first arrived in Allen, Texas, the slogan of the area was “keeping it country.” There was such pride in everything rural that the city's biggest “tourist attraction” was a 7/11 located on Stacy Rd (though it technically belonged to the neighboring city Fairview). Just 11-ish minutes away from Allen was the bustling city of Plano. That location got a real boost of prestige in 2004 with the opening of the Angelika Plano movie theater. This arthouse theater chain first launched in New York City in 1989. Since then, the Angelika's location count has never reached double-digits and rarely expanded beyond New York or California.

However, just a hop and a skip away from "Keeping It Country" was an Angelika location (another Angelika had opened deep in Dallas a few years earlier in 2001). Suddenly, nearby Texans had access to arthouse cinema. Such films might never come to your local Cinemark or the handful of AMC’s peppering Frisco and Dallas. A trip to this multiplex could entail more than just a movie. Nestled in The Shops at Legacy, Angelika Plano was in the middle of several popular stories and eateries. A grand location and offering valuable art for people wasn’t enough to keep the Angelika Plano alive forever, alas. The Angelika Plano was officially shut down on June 3, though official news about the closure only broke three days later.

None of the chain’s five screens will ever operate again under Angelika's management. That glitzy chandelier that hung in the lobby is destined to be packed away in a crate. The credits have rolled on a glorious cinematic locale.

Even as a movie geek weirdo who knew that My Winnipeg back in eighth grade, it took me years living somewhat adjacent to the Angelika Plano to finally walk through its doors. However, in the summer of 2013, I strolled into this location to watch Before Midnight. The Angelika Plano offered salvation for a hopeless teenage film nerd who dreaded exclusion from the cool cinema conversations in the A.V. Club comment section. Finally, I could catch up with the newest Richard Linklater movie on the big screen. To boot, I could catch up on that feature in a glitzy environment that made theatergoing extra special.

Poshness defined the interior vibe of the Angelika Plano. Couches next to gigantic second-story windows gave a cozy atmosphere to the place. Even if you weren’t perched in an auditorium, somewhere comfortable to sit awaited you. You could do so much fun people-watching or even just read a book between movies on those sofas. Equally impressive was a slew of global vintage movie posters slathered across the first floor's back wall. As you were preparing to watch a new movie, you could see evocative reminders of cinema’s past. As the years wore on, more and more streamers and studios began restricting people’s access to pre-1990 cinema. Those posters, in their own way, provided a rebuke to that norm. They functioned as vibrant colorful reminders of all the great motion pictures cinema’s present expanded upon. Exciting repertory screenings at the Angelika Plano extended this location’s magnificent connection to the past.

No wonder I kept returning to the Angelika Plano, which housed my favorite moviegoing memories from between 2013 and 2017. Who could ever forget that wonderful chilly January afternoon when me and my mom saw Inside Llewyn Davis at this locale? Or the Boyhood screening I attended there? That feature so profoundly many of its attendees that people congregated in Angelika Plano’s social spaces to discuss the movie afterward! Strangers bonded more closely over cinema thanks to the structure of the Angelika Plano. Then there was the time I took my mom to see James Gray's The Immigrant, a movie she knew nothing about before watching. That turned out to be such a traumatic feature that my mom was shaken up for a day after our screening, I was so mortified! My poor mom! I’ll also always treasure that July 2019 day I saw The Farewell and Wild Rose back-to-back. What a glorious double-whammy of great cinema made possible by Angelika Plano’s arthouse programming.

My memories of Angelika Plano were undoubtedly enhanced by the scarcity of the films they housed. Angelika Plano often screened mainstream titles like the latest Marvel or Star Wars installment. However, the primary focus of this location was specialty programming, including foreign-language fare. For many, the Angelika Plano was the only non-Dallas location screening modern classics like Carol, The Diary of a Teenage Girl, or Petite Maman. On the big screen, these titles could envelop your entire line of sight. The darkness of the auditorium ensured nothing could distract you. There was nothing but you and the filmmaking of masters projected as tall as the side of a building. You can’t find that at just any theater. Angelika Plano, meanwhile, provided such sights on a weekly basis.

The often-challenging cinema at Angelika Plano could even help subvert stigmas over what kind of cinema Texans gravitated towards. A December 2006 Texas Monthly piece observed that the Al Gore documentary An Inconvenient Truth became a smash hit at this specific Texas location. A global warming doc from a Democrat politician?!? A smash hit in Texas?!? Yes, indeed, Texas (like all U.S. states) is more complicated politically than one might expect. The Angelika Plano offerings gave a chance to reflect that reality. This location's screenings could also combat local prejudice. That same Texas Monthly essay explored the general tolerance level towards queerness in Plano. Author Virginia Postrel noted that…

“…not persecuting gays is not the same as treating them as social equals who can marry, raise children, and walk down the street holding hands without risking opprobrium. Plano is a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ place. Gays are welcome as colleagues and neighbors, as long as they’re discreet enough that the kids don’t notice anything unusual.”

Homophobia comes in all shapes and sizes. This includes being tolerant towards queers so long as they’re not “in your face about it.” A similar attitude persists for marginalized identities of all stripes, including people of color, disabled folks, immigrants, and other communities (as well as any intersection between those groups). Pop culture representation is not a cure-all for the woes of these oppressed groups. Activist action and concrete monetary aid are a few much more effective immediate solutions. However, having spaces to experience art that reaffirms you’re not alone can still be an important experience. Goodness knows watching Tangerine on the big screen at the Angelika Dallas in August 2015 was such an important moment for me.

Independent art showcasing those marginalized views often doesn’t make it to the local AMC or Cinemark location. But such films often came to Angelika locations, which housed movies like Wild Nights with Emily, Titane, or Rafiki. The Angelika Plano could be a welcome haven for those who often feel like outsiders. That’s the power of indie cinema and one of many reasons why it’s necessary to keep these locations open. We need places to exhibit movies of all kinds for all groups. Cinema can resonate with everybody. That full power can’t exist if theatrical exhibition consists of mega-chains showing the same six mainstream movies.

Sadly, that may become a reality in the near future but not because people have abandoned theaters. Would successes in recent years like Everything Everywhere All at Once, Anyone But You, or the Barbenheimer phenomenon be possible if everyday folks had given up on movie theaters? Moviegoers in Gen Z and young generations typically receive mockery for "only being on their phones." Yet they're statistically very passionate theatrical moviegoers. New crops of moviegoers continue to blossom even in the face of so many hurdles for big screen exhibitions.

The problem isn't with ordinary people. It's with studios. A handful of entities now control the theatrical film landscape. These conglomerates gobble up other studios (like 20th Century Fox) and severely reduce how many big-screen features they open a year. Entities like Warner Bros., Disney, Paramount, and others stopped making lucrative genres like comedies and rom-coms. Companies like Netflix refuse to cooperate with movie theaters whatsoever. This has resulted in a nightmare landscape with fewer options than ever for new films on the big screen.

Meanwhile, new motion pictures are dumped to streaming. Others, like Coyote vs. Acme, are shelved forever rather than sent to theaters desperately needing new movies. All of that is done to further bolster the pockets of rich folks like David Zaslav. Never mind the consequences for independent movie theaters. These locations need a steady stream of movies across all genres to keep the lights on. Without those titles, you end up with the dreary box office landscape of 2024.

The utter failure of conglomerates and the wealthy to consider either consumers or movie theater owners is staggering. Those ongoing woes make it all the more important to cherish theaters like Angelika Plano. Companies like WarnerDiscovery and Netflix restrict what you can and cannot see. Independent locations, meanwhile, house movies you simply cannot watch anywhere else. They offer choices, not algorithm-based "content." Take the summer of 2014, when Angelika Plano was one of the few Dallas/Fort Worth theaters to screen Snowpiercer theatrically. Seeing idiosyncratic movies on the big screen is already such a rush. But it's especially exciting when it produces equally distinctive memories with the closest people in your life. Art can bring strangers and loved ones alike closer. That’s the joy of communal experiences. Such joy isn't possible in a pop culture landscape molded through the minds of Silicon Valley and reality television tycoons.

More than ever, it’s important to support independent theaters all across America. Beloved institutions like the Vidiots location in Los Angeles and the Baltimore, Maryland theater NextAct Cinema are incredibly vital. This support especially needs to extend, though to independent theaters located in states devoid of plentiful arthouse cinemas. This includes domiciles like the Country Theatre in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, the Downer Theatre in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, the Dundee Theater in Omaha, Nebraska, and countless other locations. These places are most vulnerable to the erratic scheduling and commitment from big studios. They’re also vital resources for artistic expression and communal bonding. Speaking from personal experience, I can’t imagine a ton of Dallas, Texas like April 2024’s Texas Theatre People’s Joker screening that would’ve brought out hordes of trans folks to one location! A big chain theatre never would've housed such a movie. However, anything is possible at an independent location.

Recognizing the value of places like the Angelika Plano is essential to preserve independent cinema for the future. That's a bold thought to drive the future. For now, though, it is a time for grief. The Angelika Plano should be a location we’re constantly celebrating, not something we’re suddenly mourning. To every employee, film programmer, or any other working-class soul who made this place operate over the last 20 years, thank you. Your contributions created a cinematic oasis in Plano, Texas. In a territory often defined by “keeping it country”, Angelika Plano’s programming offered connections to the past, thoughtful commentary on the present, and hope for the future.

This richly important theater is gone…but the memories moviegoers made aren’t going anywhere. I'll cling tightly to the Angelika Plano mementos in my collection of ticket stubs. I'll similarly hold on dearly to all the formative cinematic adventures I got to experience here. The Angelika Plano is where watched movies from Todd Haynes, Richard Linklater, and Marielle Heller (among other filmmakers) on the big screen. for the first time. A piece of my moviegoing identity was formed here. That doesn't go away even as a "Closed Forever" sign now hangs in the establishment's entrance. It isn't just the importance of the Angelika Plano that we should remember today, though. People’s passion for preserving independent cinemas must only get more fervent from her. Let the demise of the Angelika Plano not be in vain. Let this location echo into eternity as a tragic lesson. The Angelika Plano's death encapsulates everything we lose with the closure of arthouse theaters.