This story was produced in collaboration with the Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD). For our fourth collaboration with SCAD, Rough Draft editors once again worked with students in Paige Gray’s spring semester writing class, focusing on stories surrounding film and television. With the help of Rough Draft editors Collin Kelley, Beth McKibben, and Sammie Purcell, the students produced stories ranging from rediscovering the traditional moviegoing experience and Latines in film, to Atlanta’s independent film industry and the Georgia Production Partnership Alliance nonprofit.
In 1995, my cousin Antonio got a job at the Regal Cinema movie theater on Powder Springs Road in Marietta. My Uncle Tony had just taken us to see “Mortal Kombat.” As we were leaving the theater, Antonio walked up to the manager and asked if they were hiring. He got the job on the spot.
Antonio was excited to make his own money. The 12-year-old version of me was excited because it meant I could go to the movies all the time.
I remember when he came home with a 30-second trailer reel for “Star Wars Special Edition.” We did not even have a projector. I just remember holding the film in my hand and being in awe. Our grandmother, whom we called Maw Maw, was a strict disciplinarian and was far less impressed.
Antonio ran away from home in 1996 and joined the military. He has not set foot in our childhood home since.
After he left, Maw Maw refused to take me to the Regal. She said it was too far away, but I think it reminded her of what she saw as a failure in parenting, or maybe it reminded her of Antonio. Regardless of the reason, I did not go back to the Regal until 1999, when “The Matrix” came out, and I spent the rest of that day questioning reality.
Once I was old enough to get a part-time job at Mrs. Winners, I started taking myself to the Regal. I saw “Pitch Black,” “Gone in 60 Seconds,” “Battlefield Earth,” “American Psycho,” “How High,” “The One” and “Osmosis Jones” there.
In 2002, I joined the military. While I was overseas, Regal Cinema was slowly disappearing.
President George W. Bush declared “mission accomplished” in 2003, but the fighting continued. In 2012, Regal Cinema lost its own war. But out of the ashes came NCG Cinema, a newer and more modern moviegoing experience. The seats had motorized reclining features, and the theater upgraded to Dolby surround sound.
When my enlistment ended, I moved back to Marietta. The economy was not great, but I used to go to the Sunday matinees at NCG Cinema. They were cheap, and it was a way to escape.
I spoke with the NCG Cinema manager, a man named Mike. When I asked how long he had worked there, he told me five years. I remembered how much Antonio loved working there. When I asked Mike whether he liked working there, he looked at me and said, “It’s a job.”
I understood exactly what he meant.
People would always ask me about my service in the military, but for me, it was just a job.
For me, the Regal houses memories. It is about place and space. It is about the ghosts that linger and the history that remains attached to a building long after people leave it behind. But for Mike, it is just a place where he spends eight hours a day.
Movie theaters have seen a 35% decline in ticket sales between 2019 and 2024.
But even as streaming services overtake traditional theaters, that moviegoing spirit still lives within me. There is something magical about going to the movies. You walk through the door and suspend disbelief for a couple of hours. You forget about what is outside. It is nice.
The night I took these pictures, my fiancée and I were going to see the remake of “Mortal Kombat.” It all came full circle—the movie that started it all. There is something there, though I do not know exactly what it is. I am 12 years old again. I am with Antonio again. I remember Uncle Tony making all kinds of sound effects during the fight scenes and the people behind us shushing him.
But I guess that is what movies do. They transport us elsewhere. That is the reason we go.
