DEAR MISTER TARANTINO. PLEASE DON’T CHANGE THE VISTA.
I woke up this morning to a tweet stating that you bought the iconic Vista Theater in Hollywood. This immediately made me both happy and sad. Happy that my favorite theater didn’t go under during Covid and turn into another hipster bowling alley. But sad that all the things I loved about that theater may soon go away... The keyword here being “MAY” since you now have the power to maintain the magic that is The Vista Theater.
I have a deep, personal connection to The Vista. It was the first theater I went to as a teenager in 1997, and it’s been my go-to spot ever since. I knew that I could always count on getting the full cinematic experience at The Vista. Tickets were affordable, when compared to the dozens of lifeless multiplexes littered around town, and the popcorn was dependably fresh and buttery. To me, The Vista was and is a theater for the common person – the cinefile that was drawn to pure cinema, without the frills of an IMAX projection, fancy 4D technology, or dinner and drinks. You went to The Vista to strictly consume cinema, for the love of cinema, and that’s what made it special. But, beyond that, the most magical thing about The Vista was the fact that they opened their doors to the independent filmmaker or curator. And that’s exactly why I’m writing this letter to you. I implore you to keep your doors open for the little guy.
Back in 2013, the now former owner of The Vista, Lance Alspaugh, decided to add a high-end digital 4K projector to the theater since, up until that point, they were film projection only. With the power of a digital projector, The Vista was able to play digital media from a variety of sources. By day, it was a Hollywood powerhouse, running top-tier first-run movies… but by night, it was of the people and for the people.
Suddenly, you saw cinefile groups like “The Secret Movie Club” hosting midnight screenings of old movies, alternative film festivals like “Abracadabra Alakazam” celebrating non-traditional media, and independent filmmakers showing their films – films that hadn’t received traditional distribution, films that were not sanctified by the almighty studios.
There was no other theater in Los Angeles that gave aspiring filmmakers access to their screen like The Vista. Sure, we could play our movies in backyards or noisy bars, but Lance gave us something special for 20+ years: the ability to play our work in a venue traditionally reserved for the big boys.
So the Vista became known – not just as a first-run movie theater – but as a place where common people could create community around a mutual love of movies; where different perspectives in film could come to be shared and heard; where the little guy could dream big. The Vista has especially been a venue for those of us filmmakers who have continued to keep the dream alive. Please don’t change that.
I read today that The Vista will be a “film only” venue moving forward, and this is what worries me. I’m not here to argue about the virtues of celluloid – but instead to point out that celluloid is traditionally an elitist’s medium. Very few of us can afford to shoot on film, let alone print to film for projection. It’s great that you and the likes of Christopher Nolan and Steven Spielberg are supporting Kodak, but for everyone else, we rely on digital to tell our stories. Digital cinema has completely democratized filmmaking and has put those once out-of-reach tools into the hands of millions of aspiring filmmakers.
Announcing that The Vista will be “film only” suggests you’re transforming it into a venue that won’t support the independent artists in town, who have relied on The Vista to showcase their work to large audiences – and also give them hope and a chance. I implore you to keep your doors open for the little guy and to remember that you were once the little guy, too. The Vista is the physical manifestation of pure cinema. It doesn’t matter if you’ve shot your movie on film or digital. We are all here to tell stories and share those stories. At the end of the day, a theater is just a simple dark room, filled with like minded strangers who all share the same eagerness to be swept away by the magic of the movies.
If you’re a true man of the people and a bastion of cinema, you would simply upgrade the tattered seats, slap on a new paint job, bring in some new snacks and leave it alone. Keep the same employees. Keep the same spirit of independence. And focus your attention on the New Beverly when it comes to showing your vast collection of personally owned reels.
Sincerely,
Rick Darge