![]() In 2018, that all changed: Dolly dropped the “Dixie” from the Stampede, and the show was scrubbed of any Civil War references. Its main attraction was a show about the Civil War in which people whooped and hollered as actors wearing Confederate soldier uniforms paraded around the arena on horseback. ![]() This dividing line, a flight of stairs separating the two sides, makes a whole lot more sense and feels so much more fraught considering that this place used to be called Dolly Parton’s Dixie Stampede. I head to my seat on the “North” side of the building, a fact that becomes important when I realize that, like at Medieval Times, the crowd here is divided into distinct camps that cheer for their own team of actors as they compete in a variety of silly games and perform acrobatic stunts, feats of horsemanship, and songs and dances.ĭinner theater has all but disappeared across the United States, even at the cheesiest tourist destinations, but in Branson dinner and a show thrives, even outside of the traditional dinner theater setting. Moments later, a bartender fills my mug with a Stampede Stomp, a concoction of Sprite, orange juice, grenadine, and cranberry juice that recalls a virgin tequila sunrise and is so sweet my teeth ache with every sip. There is, however, a menu of mocktails, which I decide is better than nothing. But despite looking and functioning like a bar, there is no alcohol to be found anywhere here. Stepping inside the building, I’m directed to walk through the gift shop before claiming my souvenir boot-shaped mug at the bar. In the midst of a 35,000-square-foot arena on the city’s theater-packed Strip, Dolly Parton’s Stampede is proof that it’s both - and a whole lot more. Those who love it say that it’s a wholesome destination for good, clean, Christian fun in the Ozark Mountains, while its critics would suggest that it’s a haven for aging white baby boomers who are clinging to their God, their guns, and their wistfulness for a bygone era. Still, I was aware that the Branson of today has a decidedly mixed reputation. And as I planned my itinerary, I looked forward to immersing myself in the kitschy themed shows set against the backdrop of the beautiful Ozarks, in the name of childhood nostalgia. It has since loomed large in my mind as a mythical place of sparkle and showmanship, where big hair, rhinestones, and country music are always fashionable, and in fact preferable, to the minimalist austerity that’s eternally en vogue. It was only about a five-hour drive, a reasonable road trip in this part of the country, but for whatever reason, my family never planned a trip there. Growing up in Northeast Texas, I heard stories about the Stampede and the magic shows and the theme parks from friends who vacationed in Branson. Here, every single meal has some element of showmanship, and the people who work in these establishments are determined to make sure that you have a good time - even if you don’t want to.īut I was there to have a good time. Even at Billy Gail’s Restaurant, a local mini-chain and popular breakfast spot, everyone stops and stares as servers bring out massive 14-inch pancakes that drape over the edges of a regular dinner plate. And of course, there are also the celebrity restaurants - Guy Fieri’s Branson Kitchen and Paula Deen’s Family Kitchen - that offer their own distinct connection to the world of entertainment. ![]() At Fall Creek Steak & Catfish House, servers playfully toss soft yeast rolls to patrons as they sit at their tables. At Mel’s Hard Luck Diner, a ’50s-themed diner that’s the “home of the Singing Servers,’’ waiters serenade the crowd with show tunes and pop hits, reaching for soaring high notes over the clatter of silverware on plates. Home to a little more than 12,000 people year-round, it’s a place that sits right at the heart of the Bible Belt while boasting more theater seats than Broadway in New York City.ĭinner theater has all but disappeared across the United States, even at the cheesiest tourist destinations, but in Branson dinner and a show thrives, even outside of the traditional dinner theater setting. As I turned the corner, I entered the Horse Walk, a corridor of outdoor stalls showcasing the “32 magnificent horses” that are the backbone of the show at Dolly Parton’s Stampede, the crown jewel of Branson, Missouri’s thriving dinner theater scene.ĭepending on who you ask, Branson is either the Live Music Capital of the World or Baptist Vegas. I lean closer, touching a cluster of blue petals, and realize they are made from silk before the oppressive smell of manure suddenly makes sense. I’m walking along a lengthy pathway, toward a building that looks much like the big white plantation houses that litter the American South, when I notice that it is lined with hydrangeas that are, for early April, uncharacteristically bright. You can’t smell the horseshit, until it’s the only thing you can. ![]()
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