When the original Alamo Drafthouse opened in 1997, I had more or less just arrived to the United States. Keeping this in mind helps me to appreciate just how long Alamo has been striving to present unique movies and experiences. You can find limited releases, grindhouse classics, lo-fi award show contenders, larger releases, staples of cinema, pop culture heroes, and on, and on. I’m pretty sure you’ve heard of the Alamo Drafthouse.

I didn’t get to visit one until the summer of 2015. I had heard of Alamo Drafthouse by then, of course. The problem was that I never lived near one. Despite a number of locations, especially several in Northern Virginia that were at least in my state, I just never seemed to exist in a moment in time in which I could go.

That changed when my girlfriend and I drove from Oregon to Virginia. Friends in Katy, TX took me to a showing of Spaceballs. It was the best possible introduction to Alamo as a concept. The food and drink were surprisingly good. Cute gifts, including a packet of jam and a little comb, were given out. The crowd was excited as hell. Particularly those who brought their kids, who seemed to love everything about the last absolutely perfect comedy directed by Mel Brooks.

I’ve been to different Alamo locations a few times since. My favorite? Seeing The Mads riff Ed Wood’s fascinating, revolutionary, ridiculous Glen or Glenda in Brooklyn.

Like everyone else, Alamo has been struggling to stay afloat during COVID-19. Movie theaters in general are naturally being brutalized by circumstances beyond their control. For theaters like the Alamo Drafthouse chain, which makes a fairly commendable effort to offer a deeper and wider array of movie choices than some of the larger companies, these are business deaths I’d prefer to avoid as much as possible.

I’ve been following their efforts to keep going under these unfathomably grim circumstances. I couldn’t say where we’re going to be with things like movie theaters for at least the next few months. Or I don’t want to say.

Personally, I’m too fucking tired to explain my feelings about, well . . .

There’s a gesture here.

Among other things, Alamo is currently offering a rather lovely, uniquely-curated on-demand hub of the sorts of movies people have been watching at their theaters for over 20 years. Their Lucio Fulci collection is what first caught my eye. However, with movies available to rent or own digitally, I’m finding myself building a decent-sized list of things I’d like to see.

Most of this stuff can be found elsewhere. Nonetheless, at least for me, I like the idea of supporting Alamo specifically, and getting a movie rental out of it. Alamo’s website says “Consider it your new video store.” The layout and selection both vibe nicely to that effect.

This month, we’re taking this ridiculous, aging fake rodeo to the Alamo. Nothing will actually be live, but I still insist you at least check out what Alamo On-Demand currently features, if it is indeed available in your neck of the universe.

If you don’t know where to start, let me suggest a few possibilities.

However, quick note: If these movies are no longer available on Alamo when this column runs, take it in stride. If you like my suggestions, track them down. If nothing else, take this as a general review of the on-demand service as Alamo currently has it.

Fulci for Fake (2019): B+

This might be a trend with recent Italian horror movie documentaries I’ve seen, but many of them do seem to subscribe to a very somber depiction of their subjects. They lean harder on lengthy interview clips, as opposed to a mix of commentary with samples of the artist’s work.

Again, this could just be a coincidence I’m building a universe around.

In fairness to Fulci for Fake, a title which I assume comes from the fantastic Orson Welles film, there are a couple of reasons why the documentary consists of long interview pieces, spliced with footage of an actor playing Fulci for a (fake) biopic project. The first reason comes down to Fulci himself not being a big fan of interviews.

The second reason is that the filmmakers of this affectionate deep dive into Fulci’s life and career weren’t allowed to use actual clips from actual films. The behind-the-scenes and home movie footage fills in some of the blanks, but not having the films themselves to provide context occasionally makes the documentary a little slow.

That’s ultimately okay. Despite these minor flaws, Fulci for Fake does right by the Orson Welles title and concept it riffs on. A man known for Zombi 2 and The Beyond, two of the most memorably violent zombie movies ever made, this documentary is invaluable for those who only know Fulci through such works. Even without the clips, your enjoyment of those movies will be enhanced.

If nothing else, it might inspire you to rent or buy some of his films.

Shirley(2020): A-

Biopics about writers often bug me for one ridiculous reason or another. I persist in watching them because I can’t pass up the chance to see an actor play someone I’ve long admired, or at least have an interest in.

Shirley meets the first requirement in flawless fashion. Elizabeth Moss, firmly established at this point as one of the best actors working today, plays the novelist Shirley Jackson with an outstanding mix of blinding strength and constant struggle. Michael Stuhlbarg as her husband Stanley Edgar Hyman provides Moss’ Jackson with both a partner and a truly frightening, unlikable antagonist.

I can’t speak to the reality of these depictions. The decidedly fictious part of the film comes from the relationships which develop from a young couple (Odessa Young and Logan Lerman, both good) that moves in with Jackson and Hyman. These things are naturally blurred and frenzied against each other by Josephine Decker’s masterful direction, using the screenplay by writer/producer Sarah Gubbins (from the novel by Susan Scarf Merrell).

Shirley is far from a standard biopic. Instead, it uses a range of horror movie tropes and expectations to explore Jackson as a writer and person. It accomplishes that very well, with a movie that never loses sight of its need to blend Jackson’s life with some truly unsettling visuals, pacing, and details.

Extra Ordinary (2019): B+

Apparently, Irish horror comedies are a genre I need more of in my life. There doesn’t seem to be many on hand (Wikipedia lists this and one other movie). While Extra Ordinary probably won’t start some kind of wild, highly specific trend in this arena, I kind of wish it would.

If nothing else, this story of a driving instructor with paranormal gifts, and the reluctance she has in using them could do with a sequel. Maybe even two.

I wasn’t surprised by how much I liked the movie. Extra Ordinary is filled with likable actors. This includes Maeve Higgins, Barry Ward, and Will Forte, but it really just applies to everyone. The film is also helped tremendously by its willingness to go as far into ridiculousness as possible, believing we will like these actors and charming, clever story enough to hang in there. The writing/directing team of Mike Ahern and Enda Loughman were right to have such faith.

The Vampire Doll (1970): B+

The first in a thematic trilogy of vampire movies from Michio Yamamoto and Toho, The Vampire Doll is another example of a genre I didn’t know I needed until just recently.

There are not, as far as I’m concerned, enough Japanese vampire movies out there. I’m not mad at anyone. I’m just really disappointed. Like we didn’t make 11, 000 shitty Dracula movies throughout North America and Europe.

Part of the appeal of The Vampire Doll is in how it comes through as a decidedly Japanese tribute to Hammer horror films. This is particularly true in the movie’s story and setting, a young woman searches for her brother at an isolated estate out in the country, and in its slow build of evil forces swirling in the darkness around the hapless hero or heroes.

The Vampire Doll doesn’t reinvent anything, but it plays with its elements to an immensely atmospheric, satisfying degree.

By Sidney Lumet (2015): A-

Originally released as part of PBS’ long-running American Masters series, this feature-length documentary lets the master himself run through his entire career. The result is something that often plays like a less dynamic TED Talk (which is a good thing).

Unless you know absolutely everything there is to know about Sidney Lumet, this documentary, directed by Nancy Buirski, is certain to give you some fascinating insights from a man responsible for some of the best movies ever made. This is a resume from the recently-deceased director and writer that includes 12 Angry Men, Dog Day Afternoon, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead, Network, The Verdict, The Pawnbroker, and so many others.

The only issue I have with By Sidney Lumet? Not long enough.

Gabriel Ricard writes, edits, and occasionally acts. His books Love and Quarters and Bondage Night are available through Moran Press, in addition to A Ludicrous Split (Alien Buddha Press) and Clouds of Hungry Dogs (Kleft Jaw Press). He is also a writer, performer, and producer with Belligerent Prom Queen Productions. He lives on a horrible place called Long Island.