I
love home video. It has introduced me to the films that have been held near and
dear to me in a far more intimate way than broadcast television ever could. The
first home video system that I ever owned was the RCA SelectaVision Capacitance
Electronic Disc system, a $500M failure that nearly bankrupted its creator, RCA,
just five years after its inauspicious introduction in March 1981, Following 17
years of research and development hell, it proved to be a technological also-ran
even before it left the gate. Star Wars (1977) and Poltergeist
(1982) were the first two films that I owned on a caddie-enclosed 12-inch
capacitive disc that were played over and over again during the spring and summer
of 1983. These were not just movies that
I saw, these were movies that I owned. They were mine and
they became a part of my identity.
I
came of age during the video store rental era. I broke my VHS rental cherry by illegally
duplicating the only store copy of Media Home Entertainment’s A Nightmare on
Elm Street (1984) on Independence Day in 1985 from a local drug store’s video
department. I did this even before I owned a VCR and before the anti-copying
encoding scheme called Macrovision infiltrated pre-recorded tapes, forcing me
to finagle work-arounds. Like so many towns in the surrounding areas, video
stores proliferated with their original scent resulting from a mixture of the
new carpet and the video boxes that adorned the aisles and shelves. Despite the
eclectic assortment of titles, each store was severely limited in terms of the
sheer number of VHS titles that they carried. One store actually rented Beta
cassettes!
In
December 1988, a new and exceptionally large video store with blue and yellow
lettering appeared three miles from my house. It was called Blockbuster Video
and it offered movies I never knew even made it to home video. I managed to see
Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (1960), Brian DePalma’s Sisters
(1973), Ulu Grosbard’s Straight Time (1978), and James Toback’s Fingers
(1978) all from this one store. I was in heaven! The glaring absence of adult
titles was curious since all the local stores had them, even the corporate
chains like Palmer Video and later on Easy Video. Porn was most definitely a
lucrative part of a store’s weekend intake, but the religious-owned Blockbuster
spurned such fare in favor of unrated violent gorefests like Dawn of the
Dead (1978), Day of the Dead (1985) and Bad Taste (1986). Little by little, however, Blockbusters
started to show up in neighboring towns sporting multiple key differentiators: having
upwards of 25 VHS copies of the newest releases on hand whereas local stores
generally only had one copy in stock; allowing renters to keep movies for three
days and two nights as opposed to two days and one night; and allowing renters
to return the tape to a store after hours through a drop box.
Once
VHS was supplanted by DVD as the primary method of home video viewing,
Blockbuster was forced to change as well and after having pushed out many of
the local rental shops into bankruptcy, Blockbuster found itself up against
Netflix, a company that Blockbuster was offered to purchase for $50M - but simply
did not have the capital to do so. It is this event (misunderstood by lay
people as Blockbuster simply not wanting to buy Netflix), coupled with poor
management and the elimination of late fees, that sounded the death knell for
the ubiquitous company that at one time had over 9,000 locations. The Last
Blockbuster, a 2020 documentary produced by Netflix ironically enough (ouch!),
directed by Taylor Morden and narrated by Lauren Lapkus, attempts to both chronicle
the rise and fall of one of the most well-known companies in the United States
and answer the questions as to why the company ultimately failed. The film
succeeds for the most part, but my favorite sections of the film are people
reminiscing about renting tangible cassettes and DVDs.
The
title itself refers to the last single remaining Blockbuster Video located at 211
NE Revere Avenue in the town of Bend, Oregon, about three-and-a-half hours
southeast of Portland. It is still a functioning video rental store, run by the
Harding Family. It began life in 1992 by Ken and Debbie Tisher who opened it as
Pacific Video until it was franchised and rebranded Blockbuster Video in eight
years later. Today, the store finds itself in the same dilemma that it put so
many local stores into decades ago – either soldier on or fold. Sandi Harding
has worked for the company for over 15 years and pretty much takes care of the
entire store. The film depicts her coming in early, checking back in the titles
left in the drop box, and disclosing what it takes to keep a store like this in
business. She keeps a collection of old computers salvaged from long shuttered
Blockbusters in an attempt to keep the database and methods of renting titles
up-to-date and running.
The
film is not focused on just this last remaining store but rather bemoans the
lost art of getting in one’s car and going to the video store to peruse the
aisles and pick out something to watch on the weekend. Hanging out with the
person behind the checkout counter on slow evenings to talk about movies is
another casualty in the time of the Internet and movies at our fingertips. Among
the other personalities interviewed in the film are Kevin Smith, Ione Skye,
Brian Posehn, Doug Benson, Paul Scheer, and Samm Levine.
As
with any disruptive technology, the previous methods of watching movies are
invariably swept away and forgotten by the masses. However there is always a
small and significant percentage of people who recall with fondness the halcyon
days of renting movies from a store. Watching The Last Blockbuster, it
becomes clear that video stores were my generation’s equivalent of a drive-in.
Passion River's DVD/Blu-ray package of the film contains an assortment of extras:
The
film’s original trailer.
Eddie
Brandt’s Saturday Matinee
– This is a four-and-a-half-minute piece about a video store that opened in Los
Angeles in December 1968 as a thrift store and over the next few decades
amassed an enormous collection of tapes and discs. COVID-19 forced this store
to temporarily close in May 2020 as they were looking for a new venue.
More
with Kevin Smith – Director
Kevin Smith is the most fun to listen to, as he really has a true love of
movies. His explanation of working as a video store clerk and wanting to do
that for the rest of his life is heartfelt and honest. He talks about renting Bloodsucking
Freaks, a movie that I have heard of but still have not seen despite
growing up with sick friends who loved the 1980 film Mother’s Day. This
bit runs six minutes.
Talkin’
Movies with David McAbee
– Just over two minutes, this is another movie fan who explains the joys of
buying tangible product. I completely agree!
JC
from Scum and Villainy
– This bit is about two-and-a-half-minutes and echoes similar cineaste
sentiments.
Andres
The Last Blockbuster Music Video
– Under three minutes, this is a clever song about renting movies.
Our
Chat with Coach Pete – This
piece runs under one minute and discusses the love of renting. I wish that
these pieces were longer!
MTV’s
Matt Pinfield –
This runs about three-and-a-half minutes – I share Matt’s love of going to the record
stores and video stores, talking with fellow music lovers and movie lovers, and
having other people recommend titles I would not have normally gone for.
Wordburglar
“Rental Patient†Music Video
– At four minutes, this is a clever song about renting movies.
Ska-Punk
show at Costa Mesa, CA Blockbuster Video
– This is something that I think you had to be there in order to appreciate it.
The
Last Blockbuster is a
loving tribute to the extraordinary experience of renting and watching movies.
It will not win the Academy Award for Best Documentary, but it belongs in every
movie lover’s collection.