10 July 23 - 29, 2026 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents ▼ FILM BIG D BACKROOMS “BACKROOMS” DIRECTOR KANE PARSONS HAS TAKEN INSPIRATION FROM A DALLAS MALL BEFORE, SO HERE ARE EIGHT MORE LIMINAL SPACES WE THINK COULD SERVE AS THE SET FOR ONE OF HIS FILMS. BY PRESTON BARTA B y now, you’ve probably seen Kane Parson’s “Backrooms” — maybe twice. If you’re unfamiliar, back- rooms are a piece of internet folklore that first emerged on 4chan. The urban legend goes that a parallel universe of endless laby- rinthine, unsettlingly corporate rooms ex- ists through hidden portals on Earth. Parsons used the myth as inspiration for a blockbusting movie, and after a very suc- cessful initial run, the A24 horror hit is back with “Backrooms: Everything Must Go,” an extended cut with 16 minutes of exclusive post-credits footage stuffed with fresh Eas- ter eggs. The film has brought back an earlier so- cial media frenzy over liminal spaces, which are eerily empty and unsettlingly desolate spaces scattered throughout the world. If backrooms were real, they’d be a prime ex- ample of a liminal space, but abandoned hospitals and office spaces are a close, real example of the surreal structures. But here’s the thing: you don’t have to travel interdimensionally to feel off-kilter other-worldliness in the Dallas area. In fact, one of Parsons’ Backrooms-related films was inspired by the now-demolished Valley View Mall. Naturally, we rounded up eight more local spaces that already look like de- leted scenes from the film. Consider it your self-guided tour. 1. The Dallas Pedestrian Network This is the undisputed champion. Three miles of tunnels sprawl across 36 blocks be- neath downtown, designed by Montreal ur- ban planner Vincent Ponte, who apparently believed the future was underground and confusing. The finishes change every hun- dred feet — stone here, lemon-yellow brick there — and boarded-up shops stare at you from old food courts. Visit at 1 p.m. on a Tuesday and you’ll find it nearly empty, which is exactly the wrong amount of peo- ple for a place that big. 2. AT&T Discovery District Bright, polished, corporate and occasionally deserted — especially when it’s not the weekday lunch rush. There’s a giant media wall and sleek seating, and when you catch it at the right moment and stand in the mid- dle, you can feel like Tom Cruise in that one part of “Vanilla Sky.” 3. Plaza of the Americas Glassy, hollow and echoing, this downtown atrium has the exact acoustic profile of a dream you can’t quite wake up from. The ice rink is gone, the balconies stretch upward forever, leasing signs dot many vacant suites and storefronts, and your footsteps announce you to no one in particular. Peak liminal. 4. Dallas Public Library Most of the J. Erik Jonsson Central Library is perfectly normal. Then you wander onto a quieter floor, and the institutional hum takes over — a dull multicolored carpet, buzzing lights, lots of negative space, rows of shelv- ing that seem to go on longer than architec- ture should allow. Useful and just a little haunted. And even if just to live your Back- rooms fantasy, it’s good to support our pub- lic libraries. 5. The Vista Mall The dying-mall genre needs no introduc- tion, and The Vista — formerly known as Music City Mall and, before that, Vista Ridge — delivers. Shuttered storefronts, a food court running on fumes and a particu- lar silence unique to spaces built for thou- sands and visited by a dozen. It’s nostalgia and unease holding hands. 6. Meow Wolf Grapevine Meow Wolf is intentionally liminal-by-de- sign: surreal corridors, disorienting rooms and portals that dump you somewhere you didn’t expect. Where the tunnels stumbled into eeriness by accident, this place charges admission for it — and it’s worth every penny. This one is the kind of liminal space you actually want to get lost in. 7. Heritage Park Cross into Fort Worth if you prefer your walks with a genuinely dystopian mood and a side of existential dread. This long-aban- doned modernist plaza sits behind chain- link fencing and cones, its concrete terraces slowly reclaimed by weeds with brutalist ru- ins-gazing at its finest. 8. DalPark Garage Yes, a parking garage made the list. This his- toric downtown structure earns it with a hypnotic spiral ramp that curls downward like something out of an M.C. Escher sketch. Follow it far enough, and you’ll swear you’ve left the ordinary world behind. So, skip the concessions line and go find your own hum-buzz; just remember to keep track of the exits. ▼ LIFESTYLE TEXAS ON TOP (OF THE BOTTOM) A NEW STUDY FROM CNBC RANKS TEXAS AS THE SECOND-WORST STATE TO LIVE IN 2026. BY PRESTON BARTA C ongratulations, Texas. We cracked a national top 10, and all it cost us was our dignity. CNBC just dropped its 2026 ranking of the worst states to live in America, and the Lone Star State claimed the No. 2 slot. We lost the gold to Tennessee, which is either a crushing disappointment or a small mercy, depending on how competitive you are about being terrible. Somewhere, a Nash- ville publication is writing a much more smug version of this article. Our final tally: 78 out of 290 possible points. That’s a grade of F, for those of you who can’t be bothered to do the math. And be- fore anyone reaches for the “fake news liberal media” starter pack, know that this is CNBC, the network that plays stock tickers like eleva- tor music and blames a slow economy on mil- lennials and Gen Z buying iced coffee. So, what dragged us down here? Healthcare: The category we truly own If Texas has a specialty, it’s making sure you can’t see a doctor. We lead the entire nation in uninsured residents at 16.7%, more than double the national average. We don’t do things halfway around here, apparently, for better or worse. About 17% of Texas adults skipped a needed doctor’s visit last year because they simply couldn’t afford it. And if you do man- age to hang onto your insurance card, good luck finding someone to hand it to. Texas finishes dead last in primary care physicians per capita. Dead last. Gov, Greg Abbott, ever the hero of the moment, rode in with $56 million in federal grants for rural hospitals — federal money, mind you, from the same government he’s made a career out of railing against. Split across the roughly 31 million people who call this place home, that works out to about $1.80 per Texan. Abbott called it “state-of- the-art treatment for everyone.” A whole dollar and eighty cents each. That’s not healthcare — that’s a vending machine strat- egy, so don’t spend it all in one waiting room. Our “strengths,” and yes, that’s in quotes Every villain gets a redeeming quality, and CNBC generously found two for us: child- care and air quality. Air quality. That’s the one they gave us. In a state where summer feels like being slow- cooked in a smoker, our reward is that the air is technically breathable while you sit in a two-hour DFW traffic jam with the A/C gasping for its life. Frame it. Hang it in the living room. The rest of the scorecard reads like a group project nobody wanted to be part of: crime, inclusiveness, worker protections and reproductive rights all landed in the ▼ Culture Provided by A24 Wiki Commons The backrooms, from the eponymous blockbuster movie, are endless dingy yellow rooms. Gov. Greg Abbott likely won’t brag about his state’s high ranking in a new study. >> p12
