In Search of the Last Great Video Store

Kate Hagen
The Black List Blog
46 min readJun 6, 2018

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The Director’s Section at Cinefile Video

A few months back, I had a very specific movie craving — I wanted to watch FRESH HORSES, a 1988 romantic drama most notable for reteaming Molly Ringwald and Andrew McCarthy after PRETTY IN PINK. It was a grey, chilly day in LA, and I was feeling nostalgic for spring in my hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio — FRESH HORSES was shot there. I was hoping I could capture some of the misty, late March vibes the movie evokes so well, and in doing so, take a cinematic field trip back home for a few hours.

So, I did what I usually do when looking for a movie in the year 2018: googled “FRESH HORSES streaming.” No results, not even for rental. So, I moved on to less legal methods, beginning with YouTube. After that failed, I pulled a maneuver I’ve been using for a decade: googling multiple variations of “watch FRESH HORSES online.” Even then, the best version of the movie I could find was a Polish dub.

FRESH HORSES isn’t a great movie, but that’s besides the point. Ben Stiller and Viggo Mortensen star alongside Ringwald and McCarthy, and the movie is only thirty years old — it should be available online with a few clicks. I definitely would’ve paid a few bucks to rent it via Amazon or Vudu, but those options weren’t available to me.

Why was it so difficult to stream or rent a thirty-year old movie with four major stars?

I remembered the last time I’d watched FRESH HORSES: I’d rented it from my local Blockbuster in Sharonville, Ohio as a teenager. Had there still been a Blockbuster (or any other video store) in my neighborhood, I would’ve jumped in the car, rented the movie, and been home in an hour. Instead, I had to settle for buying FRESH HORSES in a six-movie collection off of Amazon, which would come three days later.

But by then, the amorphous melancholy that inspired me to watch the movie in the first place had passed. Because I couldn’t access FRESH HORSES, I felt like I couldn’t fully process the restless nostalgia that spring always brings for me.

We all have our own FRESH HORSES: movies that transport us back to a specific location, time, and mood that only exists otherwise in the haziness of our own memories. When we can’t access these kinds of movies, it feels as if an essential pathway that connects us to our pasts — and our past selves — is lost too.

I think about the problems of how we watch movies now and “dead media” every day — and I have a house full of vinyl, VHS tapes, and Nintendo 64 games to prove it. I’ve been blessed (and cursed) by the collector gene — part of my drive to collect stems from an aesthetic appreciation, but there’s another more practical reason for my collecting too.

Whether it’s a twenty-five year old cassette of a WOXY radio broadcast or a permanently out-of-print Stephen King collection, I hold onto these physical objects because I know one day they just won’t be available elsewhere. Given the extremely fickle nature of online availability, I’m the rare person who’s doubled-down on physical media in the last few years: I sleep better at night knowing that my out-of-print DVD of GAS FOOD LODGING is tucked away on a shelf.

I’ve skipped out on a number of disc releases for films like POSSESSION (1981) and LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THE FABULOUS STAINS in the last few years, and those editions now go for around fifty bucks each. Sure, I can rent STAINS or buy it for the cloud, but who can say how long those options will remain available to me? And POSSESSION isn’t currently available anywhere to stream or buy online — it can be rented from MUBI, but for how long?

We all like to assume that the movies and television shows we love will be available with a click whenever we want them — one can now buy an Amazon button for Doritos, after all — but the stability of what media is available online (and how long it stays there) is quite tenuous. “You are not in control of what you have access to — you are picking from a small library that’s always rotating,” says Maggie Mackay, Board Chair and Executive Director of Vidiots.

Streaming Killed the (Chain) Video Store

“Once a video store owns a title, they have it for years, regardless of if it goes out of print or if the film’s rights holder goes out of business or sells their catalogue to another studio or service.” — Eric Allen Hatch

At the company’s peak in 2004, there were 9,000 Blockbusters operating in North America — today, only three remain open in Alaska. When Movie Gallery began to see a slump in sales in 2007, they were operating more than 4,500 locations in North America (including Hollywood Video, which they acquired in 2005 after an attempt at a hostile takeover from Blockbuster.) Movie Gallery filed for bankruptcy in 2010 — like Blockbuster, only three independently franchised locations remain open in Arkansas.

Rentrak estimates that 19,000 video stores were open across America during the industry’s peak. In December 2017, 24/7 Wall St. reported that 86% of the 15,300 video stores that were open in 2007 had closed, and the industry had lost more than 89% of its workforce, making video tape and disc rental the “top dying industry” in America.

Global chains like Rogers Plus, Video Ezy ,and Xtra-vision have folded as well, though Video Ezy still operates rental kiosks like Redbox. Only a few international chains — Le SuperClub Videotron in Canada, Culture Convenience Club in Japan, Civic Video in New Zealand and Australia — remain open.

Over five billion rentals have come through 40,000 Redbox kiosks since the company’s launch in 2002 — they now control 51% of the physical rental market in the US. But even the biggest Redbox machine only holds around 600 discs, covering up to 200 titles — no match for even a tiny video store.

The Myth of An Endless Streaming Catalogue

“If you limit the ways people can access art, there will be whole generations that won’t fall in love with this art form — they’ll fall in love with other things.”— Maggie Mackay

Since 2010, the total number of feature films available to stream on Netflix has dropped from 6,755 to 3,686 as of writing this — a loss of more than three thousand titles. There are far more television shows available on Netflix than in 2010 — up from 530 to 1,122 — but that doesn’t make up for the massive decline in streamable films.

And, as BGR notes, Not only is Netflix primarily focused on generating original TV content, Netflix chief content officer Ted Sarandos a few years ago said that 66% of all Netflix subscribers don’t even watch movies.”

In 2018, over 375 million people subscribe to Netflix, HBO, Amazon Prime, and Hulu. Streaming has become the dominant way in which most of us consume media, but little consideration has been given to what we’ve lost in saying goodbye to the tactile, human experience of visiting a video store.

Netflix Streaming in February 2012

“The technology only becomes problematic when it eradicates other forms of access. When you have a new technology and you rush to dump everything that came before it, you are literally dumping titles, you’re dumping artwork, you’re dumping full catalogues of work,” says Mackay. “Most of us fell in love with this art form when we were relatively young, and it was because we had access to it," she continues.

The volatile nature of streaming catalogues becomes apparent when trying to look into hard numbers on just how many titles are available. One has to use third-party sites like JustWatch to find out how many movies are currently available on major platforms (as well as other data, like release year, genre, and a search function that covers all major streaming services) rather than the platforms directly offering those numbers up.

Netflix’s current streaming catalogue of 3,686 films seems paltry when compared to even the most average Blockbuster, which stocked in the neighborhood of 10,000 titles. Amazon Prime’s streaming library is three times the size of Netflix’s, with 14,214 films now streaming — Amazon also offers an additional 20,265 titles via their rental service for an additional fee. Hulu has less than half as many movies as Netflix with 1,448 titles now streaming. On HBO NOW, that number falls to only 727 films.

Scarecrow Video (via Flip the Media)

When comparing these numbers to the libraries of three essential video stores — Los Angeles’ own Vidiots and Eddie Brandt’s Saturday Matinee and Scarecrow Video in Seattle — the lack of what’s available on streaming falls into sharp relief. Vidiots boasts a collection of over 50,000 titles; Eddie Brandt’s carries over a hundred thousand videos, 80,000 of them on VHS.

In Seattle, Scarecrow’s video collection of over 131,000 is the largest in the world — they carry more than twice as many titles as the 57,351 movies and television shows currently available on the 44 streaming and rental platforms that JustWatch tracks.

With such a deep catalogue, it’s no surprise that Scarecrow’s library contains some exceptionally rare titles. The Daily Mail reports that “Scarecrow boasts 4,967 titles on their Rental By Approval (RBA) list…that can be checked out with an extra deposit. Of their top 100 rarest titles, which they are cross-checking against esteemed institutions including the Library of Congress, UCLA’s Film and Television Archive and the WorldCat database among others, 88 are not held by the Library of Congress and 44 are not accessible to the public anywhere but at Scarecrow.”

No streaming service has been able to match the breadth and depth of a decades-old video store — at least not yet. Netflix’s disc rental service included 93,000 titles as of 2015 — a comparable library to somewhere like Eddie Brandt’s. But, disc rental isn’t a priority for Netflix: in 2016, they spent almost $1 billion promoting their streaming platform, but the physical rental service “doesn’t even have a marketing budget,” reports AP News.

And, even with 125 million streaming subscribers, Netflix still relies on physical media more than one might assume. AP News notes that Netflix makes “an operating profit of roughly 50 percent on DVD subscriptions, after covering the expense of buying discs and postage to and from its distribution centers…DVD profits have helped subsidize Netflix’s streaming expansion outside the U.S., a push that has accumulated losses of nearly $1.5 billion during the past five years [2011–2016.] The DVD service has made $1.9 billion during the same period, enabling Netflix to remain profitable.”

Besides Netflix’s physical DVD and Blu Ray service, the best, more accessible option for physical media rental for most is one of the 40,000 Redbox kiosks currently operating in America. While Redbox does carry many new release titles long before they reach streaming, when I looked up the Redbox closest to me in Hollywood, I found that only 168 titles were available in the machine, most of them from the last three years —not exactly an extensive selection, nor one that appeals to viewers interested in film history beyond the last decade.

(Note: we reached out to representatives for Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Hulu for comment on their current streaming catalogues. Netflix and Hulu did not respond; Amazon Prime declined to answer our questions.)

The dearth of classic films and focus on new content becomes more apparent when taking a closer look at what’s available by decade on each of the major streaming services. According to JustWatch, two titles made before 1930 are now streaming on Netflix — they offer only 15 films made before 1950, 26 made before 1970, and 98 made before 1990. By streaming fewer than one hundred films to cover the medium’s first one hundred years, Netflix is doing an egregious disservice to film’s first century.

With four times as many titles as Netflix overall, it’s not surprising that Amazon Prime offers far more classic titles as well — 77 films on the platform were made before 1930; 661 before 1950; 1,292 before 1970; and 3,048 before 1990. But Amazon is the exception among streaming platforms—Hulu offers 115 films made by 1990 or earlier, and on HBO NOW, there are only 55 films that meet that same criteria.

There’s simply no question that new and exclusive content is the priority for Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Hulu. 3,155 of the 3,686 films now available to stream on Netflix are from the last ten years — 85% of their entire catalogue. On Hulu, 75% of all movies are from the last ten years too. And while Amazon Prime certainly bests all other major platforms when it comes to “old movies”, 59% of their currently streaming films are from the last ten years as well.

But, one streaming platform is prioritizing classic catalogue titles: FilmStruck, which launched in late 2016. FilmStruck self-describes as featuring “iconic films of all kinds from Hollywood classics to independent, foreign and cult cinema. As the exclusive streaming home of TCM Select and the Criterion Collection, FilmStruck is the world’s largest classic film vault.”

FilmStruck partnered with Warner Bros. to (eventually) bring films like CASABLANCA, CITIZEN KANE, SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN, REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE, and WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? to a streaming platform for the first very time. Including Criterion Collection titles (which are available for a small additional monthly fee) FilmStruck’s catalogue is still growing with 1,975 titles available. But more than 86% of their library is from 1990 or earlier, providing film fans with exclusive access to essential titles that are being overlooked and de-prioritized by other streaming services.

(Note: The Black List is an official partner of FilmStruck.)

One of FilmStruck’s recent themes

The idea that beloved, superlative films like CASABLANCA and CITIZEN KANE can only be accessed with a subscription to an arthouse/classic focused streaming service is quite frankly insane. THE GODFATHER trilogy is now available on Netflix, but that’s only been the case since January of 2018. Even something as ubiquitous as STAR WARS is only available in its first, unedited iteration as a VHS box set from 1995 — and the original trilogy isn’t currently streaming anywhere.

And of course, most major streaming platforms are deep into the original content game. Netflix has released 25 original films and added 7.4 million new subscribers thus far in 2018 — that’s as many releases as the six major studios combined. They plan to release 80 films by the end of the year. The focus on new content creation over the preservation of and access to catalogue titles for most streaming services is quite clear.

“How does anyone new get curious to watch a Fassbinder or Claire Denis film if they never encounter one during their Netflix scroll?” asks Eric Allen Hatch, a film festival programmer and consultant who’s also one of the founding members of the Baltimore Video Collective.

While the focus on new content is an easy scapegoat for what’s keeping many classic films off of streaming platforms, it’s also important to keep factors related to rights and distribution in mind.

To get a better sense of what keeps films off streaming services (or disc formats) I spoke to film historian Marc Edward Heuck, best known as the Movie Geek on BEAT THE GEEKS. Marc posts fascinating threads on Twitter about film licensing, distribution, and rights situations. Here, he explains the complex circumstances that can keep films stuck in limbo —

There will never be as many titles on DVD as there were on VHS, there will never be as many titles on Blu as there were on DVD, and so forth…newer generations with shallower memories determine what gets out, the cost of upgrading and remastering old stuff versus the projected size of the audience and likely sales rarely ratio well — history forgets a dying king.

The biggest hurdle affecting deep catalogue home video releases, going all the way back to the dawn of the format, has been music rights, since from EASY RIDER onward, when pop song recordings became common on film soundtracks. Contracts only covered theatrical and TV, and even after they started accounting for home video, they didn’t factor the invention of DVD. Some of the earliest home video releases are the rarest now because they were put out before the lawyers realized you needed to make a new deal for the new media.

Now that there are only three major labels, with the downturn of physical media and the slivers of pennies that come from streaming, they and the artists they control get significant money from licensing to TV, film, and commercials, so their incentive is to take the studios for all they’ve got, feeling they have them over a barrel, since many times the songs are often so embedded in the films, they can’t be replaced, or directors won’t approve of the change. But in turn, studios are loath to pay the inflated music fees because they feel the cost spent in clearing the songs will not be recouped by whatever sales a title may have, and it’s cheaper just to do nothing.

The second biggest problem keeping movies off of physical media is ancient, expired intellectual property rights, usually involving books or plays that were originally only cleared for so many years because back then, nobody thought about repertory demand years after the fact. Warner Bros. has had a big problem with this in particular, a lot of Golden Age classics that they own — BEYOND THE FOREST, LETTY LYNTON, CEILING ZERO — can’t be cleared for video because the estates of the authors of those original source materials can’t come to terms about relicensing the story rights. This is what held up NIGHTMARE ALLEY for years, and likely also what has kept one of the greatest comedies of all time, Olsen & Johnson’s HELLZAPOPPIN’, in limbo.

Since the rise of “secondary studios” from the ’70s onward, lots of movies that went out through the majors are now reverting to other companies that are only interested in them as properties to be developed rather than preserved. Bristol-Myers-Squibb owns the original THE HEARTBREAK KID, THE STEPFORD WIVES, and SLEUTH, and they’ve done nothing with them since the early noughts Anchor Bay releases, aside from sell remake rights. We’re beginning to see that on a larger scale with Morgan Creek, Regency, Revolution, and others — the old deals are expiring, what new deals are being made are just cherry-picking the hits and leaving the deep cuts behind.^

Heuck has put together a list of titles stuck in rights hell due to music-licensing issues which includes films from directors like Spike Lee, Jonathan Demme, Michael Mann, and Robert Altman. It becomes impossible to watch the complete filmographies of these fundamental filmmakers when certain titles aren’t available — an issue for audiences, archivists, and historians alike.

When presented with the option of easy to stream titles or movies one has to work harder to find, it’s easy to guess which choice the majority of audience members will make, greatly narrowing the cinematic landscape in the process. Aside from classifying films by genre and recommending similar titles to what you’ve already watched, there’s very little curation on most streaming services, though it should be noted that FilmStruck, MUBI, and Fandor do have consistent curatorial visions.

“Streaming platforms ostensibly offer as wide a selection as a video store, but they are most successful as businesses when they keep selling you more of the same thing you first bought, the ‘If You Liked This…’ Unless you yourself do the genre leaping, the site will clog your front page with nothing but more suggestions for the same stuff, mixed with whatever homegrown material they want to push,” says Heuck.

Exploring the much-lauded recommendations algorithm is key to understanding how Netflix prioritizes content. In August 2017, Netflix’s vice president of product innovation, Todd Yellin, told Wired to think of the algorithm like a three-legged stool: “The three legs of this stool would be Netflix members; taggers who understand everything about the content; and our machine learning algorithms that take all of the data and put things together.”

Along with studying user behavior, Wired reports that Netflix also employs “dozens of in-house and freelance staff who watch every minute or every show on Netflix and tag it.” When coupled with sophisticated machine-learning algorithms, this allows Netflix to develop “taste communities.”

According to Wired, these taste communities “affect what recommendations pop up to the top of your onscreen interface, which genre rows are displayed, and how each row is ordered for each individual viewer. The tags that are used for the machine learning algorithms are the same across the globe. However, a smaller sub-set of tags are used in a more outward-facing way, feeding directly into the user interface and differing depending on country, language and cultural context.”

In 2016, Neil Hunt, Netflix’s chief product officer, explained how instrumental those top rows of recommendations are to users, telling Business Insider that “the user either finds something of interest [within the first 60 or 90 seconds] or the risk of the user abandoning our service increases substantially.”

And as of January 2018, Netflix had implemented a new strategy for recommending content: tailoring thumbnails attached to each piece of work to best match the user’s history on the site. “Artwork was not only the biggest influencer to a member’s decision to watch content, but it also constituted over 82% of their focus while browsing Netflix. We also saw that users spent an average of 1.8 seconds considering each title they were presented with while on Netflix,” said Nick Nelson, Netflix’s Global Manager of Creative Services.

Differing Netflix thumnails, via Thrillist

Netflix’s current focus on providing the best “box art” to users feels like a silent acknowledgement of the video store era — where the right gory VHS cover could entice viewers to check out even the schlockiest of of schlock. Even with a high-powered recommendations algorithm fueled by data from millions of users, Netflix still understands that the first visual contact an audience has with a movie is essential to their selection process overall.

But even the most carefully selected thumbnail can’t compete with the tactile experience of holding a film in your hand. “Shopping in a great video store encourages discovery and deep engagement with an art form, leaving one fulfilled…trying to find something to watch on a streaming service usually requires compromise, leaving one feeling like they wasted their time,” says Hatch. “Many people are visual and spatial learners like me, and are more likely to make unexpected discoveries in a physical browsing atmosphere or in a conversation with a video-store clerk than they are on the internet,” he continues.

And while the proprietary recommendations algorithm has been a major feather in Netflix’s cap for over a decade, in 2016, Chris Jaffe, Netflix’s vice president of product innovation, told Business Insider, “We don’t really care if you watch JESSICA JONES or MARCO POLO, we just want you to watch.”

Data on recommendation algorithms for other services like Amazon Prime Video and Hulu isn’t widely available, so Netflix provides the most valuable study of just how streaming services display content best-suited to the user-experience. Netflix is throwing a lot of weight behind its recommendations algorithm (and their improvements to it) and the system does work well — so long as you’re only interested in content made in the last decade.

Plug “1950s movies” into Netflix’s search, and Netflix originals like THE CROWN and 13 REASONS WHY come back alongside movies like BRIDGET JONES’ BABY and SPOTLIGHT—all of these titles are less than ten years old, and two of them are Netflix originals.

To even access the three movies Netflix is currently streaming from the 1950s — you know, the thing you actually searched for — you have to click through to a second subcategory to get all three of those titles (WHITE CHRISTMAS, THE AFRICAN QUEEN, and UJALA) to appear together, separated from all other non-1950s movies.

When searching for a genre like Romantic Epic — one that falls outside what’s currently hot in Hollywood ,but is still totally legit — the results are even more disappointing, with only five titles coming back, two of them Netflix originals.

If you search “Classic Musicals” on Netflix, EVIL GENIUS, a true crime Netflix original docuseries, appears in the first row of recommendations — hardly the Astaire and Rogers fare one might imagine.

It is of course Netflix’s prerogative to promote their own content alongside catalogue titles, but it’s tough to not feel like you’re being duped as a user when Netflix originals are prioritized over the content you were actually searching for.

As the siren song of easily accessible technology grows harder to resist, we have to take a step back to consider how we’ve destroyed video store culture — a vital, early access pathway to the larger world of film for many folks, especially in more rural parts of the world — in the process.

“Video stores meant everything to me. Video Americain wasn’t just a job to me, it was also my film school, and social hub,” says Hatch. Hatch was the manager at Video Americian, a beloved Baltimore video store from 1998–2004. Video Americain closed in 2014 after 25 years in business.

Video Americain in John Waters’ SERIAL MOM

“When you watch little kids walk around a library or video store, it’s very different than watching them scroll, they’re engaged and excited, talking and asking questions, and sharing their opinions — they have agency,” said Mackay.

How will we create new movie lovers when we’ve taken away one of the easiest entry points to learning about and loving film? When so few classic films are available to stream? When no one offers them a guide of how to understand cinema’s history? How do we assure that most films, even something like FRESH HORSES, are available to anyone who wants to watch them? What happens to Hollywood history when films aren’t being protected, preserved, and well-presented as we jump to each new technological platform?

These questions keep me up at night, and keep me worried about what the future of home-viewing (and the next generation of film fans) looks like.

So for me, there’s only one solution: we have to go in search of the last great video store.

The Last Five Great Video Stores in Los Angeles

Cinefile Video

My journey to find the last great video store began at Cinefile Video in West Los Angeles. Even in LA, finding video stores in 2018 is harder than one might imagine — a number of stores like Video West and the last remaining Blockbusters have closed in the six years since I moved here, and information on what’s still open and functional isn’t always the best. But I’d visited Cinefile before, and was eager to check it out again.

In terms of curation, Cinefile can’t be beat. They have the most interesting director’s section I’ve ever seen — filmmakers like Martha Coolidge, Alan Rudolph, Bill Gunn, Ida Lupino, and Ed Wood are given an equal spotlight within. By presenting viewers with a director’s entire oeuvre, Cinefile makes it easy for renters to find their own personal entry point into a particular filmography. And Cinefile’s uniquely curated sections — Nunsplotation, Holiday Horror, Private Dicks, Southern Discomfort, and Cannibals were just a few of offerings the day I was there — help customers explore even the most niche genres.

Cinefile also highlights subgenres like made-for-TV movies, filmed plays, and musical documentaries that would get overlooked by lesser video stores. This is also precisely the kind of material that never makes it to streaming — Cinefile’s dedication to showcasing this work is not only exciting from a customer’s point of view, but essential from a preservationist’s.

An endcap section at Cinefile

I was the only person in Cinefile the Thursday I visited them, and it was tough not to get a little disheartened by the lack of traffic in the store. But, when I visited a few months later, after 11PM on a Friday night, the store was bustling with activity, patrons eager to check out titles before a long weekend. Cinefile showcases some fantastic memorabilia within the store too — velvet paintings, tchotchkes, and rare promo images line the walls, adding to the ambiance of a visit.

For buyers, a hearty stock of DVDs were on sale for 50% off, and VHS tapes were selling for a quarter. Cinefile’s signature auteur-directors-as-metal-bands shirts were also well-stocked alongside tote bags featuring filmmakers like Jean-Luc Godard and Jim Jarmusch. Cinefile is an excellent option for film fans on LA’s west side — yearly, monthly, and pay-as-you go memberships are available to best suit your personal rental needs.

Cinefile Video, 11280 Santa Monica Blvd., Los Angeles, CA, 90025. Sunday-Thursday, 11AM-11PM, Friday-Saturday, 11AM-12AM. $5 pay as you go rentals; $30 monthly membership for four rentals at a time; $330 yearly membership — all memberships come with perks like 10% off American Cinematheque memberships.

Vidéothèque

For my second visit, I headed east to Vidéothèque. Immediately, I was struck by how vital Vidéothèque felt among a strip of other small businesses — it’s clearly a community hub for South Pasadena. Like Cinefile, Vidéothèque is all about exquisite curation: the impeccable but not at all sterile store makes browsing new releases and pre-code films feel equally essential.

Vidéothèque impressed me with their extensive sections for international TV and harder-to-find American shows (like THE WONDER YEARS with the original music intact) as well as a massive music doc section that emphasized rare girl punk bootlegs, Mingus performances, and classical concerts with the same level of enthusiasm.

With some groovy shoegaze playing while I browsed, I hung out while a dozen or so customers came through the store on a Sunday afternoon. A father extolled the virtues of Ray Harryhausen to his middle-school son (who just wanted to rent SHIN GODZILLA again) while I perused Vidéothèque’s excellent avant-garde and experimental section. Documentaries were sorted by director and by subject — especially helpful for those seeking materials for research purposes.

Vidéothèque’s focus on international titles is quite impressive — thirty-year old VHS tapes were stacked alongside new Blu Rays, providing access to films that aren’t available on DVD or Blu Ray in the US. I also really appreciated how diverse Vidéothèque’s children’s section was, with documentaries and foreign films presented to children alongside Pokémon and THE LITTLE MERMAID — Vidéothèque understands that children become voracious watchers as adults if they’re shown a wide array of films as kids.

The Cult section at Vidéothèque

While the dual sorting of American films by both director and actor (depending on the genre and title) might feel confusing to some, I enjoyed being able to peruse filmographies of actors like Barbara Stanwyck and Sidney Poitier alongside directors like Allison Anders and Sam Fuller. It’s just so much easier to fall in love with an actor or director when their entire filmography is laid out in front of you, not just a few random titles.

Vidéothèque also sells vinyl, t-shirts, buttons, and new and used DVDs, further bolstering their role as an important gathering place for South Pasadena. Even after one visit, I could tell fostering and nurturing a sense of community was one of Vidéothèque’s core values — the store is an essential hub for film lovers on the east side.

Vidéothèque, 1020 Mission Street, South Pasadena, CA, 91030. 11AM-11PM weekly (10AM on Saturdays.) All rentals $4.50, with option to pre-purchase rentals in packages for a discounted rate.

The next two stores I visited most reminded me of the Blockbusters and Hollywood Videos of my childhood: Star Video in Van Nuys and Odyssey Video in North Hollywood. These stores are catered towards the more casual viewer — lots of new releases and popular catalogue titles.

Star Video

Star Video felt almost exactly like a Blockbuster to me: new releases lined the outer edge of the store, with older titles sorted by genre in the middle. While there wasn’t any curation to speak of, Star Video does feature some very deep genre sections, particularly for late 90s/early 2000s titles — some sections were so full that titles were stacked on top of each other.

Star’s most impressive racks include a massive selection of thrillers, and a funky children’s section with titles like MAD HOT BALLROOM and THE LEGEND OF NATTY GANN. They’re also the only store I visited that’s still renting video games — that market has been squashed by Gamefly, so Star Video is meeting an important need for those who would prefer to rent in-person.

I was the only person in Star Video on a Sunday afternoon, but if I lived closer, I’d be stopping in for new release titles on Blu Ray since they’re just $2.50 each — catalogue titles rent for only a dollar.

Odyssey Video

Odyssey Video gave me some intense 1997 vibes — in absolutely the best way. VHS tapes were shelved alongside DVDs, and I noticed a lot of forgotten 90s cable classics like THAT NIGHT, SHAG! and THERE GOES MY BABY were still renting at the store. I was most struck by some of the rare children’s titles at Odyssey, like compilations that never made it to DVD from ANIMANIACS, BATMAN: THE ANIMATED SERIES, and THE SIMPSONS.

Like Star, there’s no curation at Odyssey outside of genre, but the store featured an extensive martial arts section (with titles from the 1970s still available on VHS) and a deep musicals rack, including some out-of-print compilations from major studios.

And, while almost every store I visited had an adult section, Odyssey’s behind-the-curtain titles are truly something to behold: they take up almost half the store, with a smattering big-box pornos from the 1980s still available to rent. Odyssey felt like a store out of time and space, but that’s not a bad thing: a visit there feels like a voyage back in time. And the prices reflect the retro vibe of the store as well — most of Odyssey’s extensive VHS collection rents for just $.99 a movie.

Star Video, 13644 Vanowen, Van Nuys, CA, 91405. 10AM-11PM daily. $2.50 for new release rentals, $1 for catalogue titles.

Odyssey Video, 4810 Vineland Avenue, North Hollywood, CA, 91601. 10AM-12AM daily. $1.99 for rentals, $.99 certain days of the week.

Eddie Brandt’s Saturday Matinee

I found what I was looking for when I visited Eddie Brandt’s Saturday Matinee in North Hollywood.

I figured I was in good hands when I saw “Mount Rushmonster” painted on the outside of the nondescript building, but once I walked in and saw the one-sheets, movie magazines, scripts, and laserdiscs for sale, I knew I’d found the video store I’d been searching for — the vibe was just right.

Eddie Brandt’s rental floor houses 80,000 VHS tapes — twenty times the number of films now streaming on Netflix. While there, I slipped into that glorious zen state only a concentrated browse can provide — I could’ve easily posted up there for the rest of the day. Eddie Brandt’s has countless rare and out-of-print titles I’d never laid eyes on before like early commercials compilations, classic Western and detective serials, multi-part television documentaries, and so much more.

The scope of Eddie Brandt’s rental catalogue cannot be understated: only the VHS tapes are out on display, but the store also rents over 20,000 DVDs and Blu Rays, including the newest releases, available to scan via their catalogue. Titles at Eddie Brandt’s are alphabetized, but with a catalogue of that size, one opts for simplicity over curation— and don’t worry, the clerks behind the counter and your fellow customers will be happy to recommend things once you start talking about the kind of movies you like.

While I was browsing, I struck up a conversation with Tony Nittoli, who was working the counter, and two patrons — one an older gentlemen in a WWII veteran hat; the other a young metalhead carrying his chihuahua. I told them I was working on a piece about video stores, and all three of them were eager to tell me about Eddie Brandt’s history.

Nittoli mentioned that Paul Thomas Anderson and Quentin Tarantino are still customers — not at all surprising given that Anderson and Tarantino are some of the most film-literate directors working today. The older gentleman (a patron of many years who asked not to be named in this piece) told me that most of the major studios keep contracts with Eddie Brandt’s, as it still provides the easiest pathway to find very old and obscure titles from their own catalogues. The four of us chatted about how much we all missed this exact moment of the video store experience: just shooting the shit on a Friday afternoon, talking about movies without a care about anything happening outside the store’s VHS-packed walls.

The Westerns section at Eddie Brandt’s

I had such a great afternoon at Eddie Brandt’s that I went back a few Saturdays later — Nittoli remembered me and asked how my piece turned out. He also insisted I take a donut from the open box on the counter — all patrons were cajoled into taking one before leaving, adding to the family feel of the store.

Both times I visited Eddie Brandt’s, there were multiple groups browsing, and conversation flowed between customers and counter staff — everything from to why THE EXECUTIONER’S SONG had been checked out for so long to where to find obscure skateboarding videos to why studio movies were so bad in the 1980s.

And, I was able to find four movies — LITTLE DARLINGS, DIARY OF A MAD HOUSEWIFE, LOOKING FOR MR. GOODBAR, and PLAY IT AS LAYS — that will never make it to DVD (thanks to, you guessed it, music licensing issues) on VHS in Eddie Brandt’s collection, a thrilling moment for me after being on the hunt for many years. I talked to Nittoli about needing a VCR again after discovering all Eddie Brandt’s offered me, and he mentioned how much harder they’d been to come by in the last few years. Nittoli said that he’d noticed an uptick in customers asking about VCRs as they began to realize how many titles weren’t (and would never be) available on streaming or DVD/Blu Ray.

Eddie Brandt’s Saturday Matinee is the most impressive video store I’ve ever visited — I’m scouring Goodwills for a working VCR so I can start a membership in earnest. In addition to their massive one-of-a-kind catalogue, the warm, welcoming atmosphere at the store made me feel like a member of their community after only two visits.

And the sensual experience of visiting the store — the pleasant library musk of dust and cardboard, the murmur of a mystery movie on an old TV mixing with customer chatter, the feel of well-worn, embossed letters on a shaggy shell case — kept me engaged throughout both of my visits. I felt so much more invested in the films I was looking at — holding them in my hands made the stakes of choosing something feel so much higher than when on streaming.

In addition to one of the most impressive rental catalogues in North America, the store also houses twenty-two tons of promotional photos, film stills, posters, and other movie memorabilia — and you can browse their entire catalogue online.

Eddie Brandt’s Saturday Matinee is an essential haven for cinema’s true believers, and should be preserved and protected at all costs. Next time you’re in the Valley, stop by, and you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.

Eddie Brandt’s Saturday Matinee, 5006 Vineland Ave., North Hollywood, CA. 1–6PM Tuesday-Friday, 10AM-6PM Saturdays. One-time membership fee of $15, all rentals $3.

Return of the Living Video Store

“We didn’t think of it as an archive or a library until so much later, but that’s really what it is.” — Cathy Tauber

One of the “unrentable” tapes in Vidiots’ collection

My ability to visit five fantastic video stores still felt like a luxurious perk of living in the movie capital of the world. For folks in other parts of America and throughout the world, access to any video store at all — let alone one with a catalogue the size of Eddie Brandt’s—doesn’t exist.

It’s impossible not to get dismayed by the current state of the video rental industry — the big picture is grim, and a national comeback would be a near-miracle. But record stores and independent bookstores were once declared dead too — and they’ve staged marvelous comebacks. I have to believe that video stores can do the same.

And, if you look a little closer, there are signs of survival, growth, and progress happening for video stores across the country.

One major video rental chain remains in North America: Family Video, with more than 750 stores open in 19 states and Canada. Owner Keith Hoogland told Forbes that Family Video has survived while its competitors fell thanks to better business practices: “Instead of accepting discounted movies in exchange for agreements to split revenue, as Blockbuster did, [Family Video] has opted to buy films outright and keep 100% of rental proceeds…Hoogland has also kept his stores entirely company-owned, and he keeps costs down by making many of the items needed for new locations in-house — everything from shelving to point-of-sale software.”

Family Video’s willingness to rework their own model has been a key part of their survival too: “The company owns just about all the real estate underpinning its stores. As a result, Hoogland has been able to adapt now that sales are beginning to fall. He has shrunk the square footage of many of the video stores, put up drywall, and leased out space to other companies, like Subway and H&R Block.”

The majority of Family Video locations are in the Midwest, and as a card-carrying Midwesterner, I can vouch for the reticence of many folks to stream or order movies by mail when presented with the option of a physical video store. And, the continuing inaccessibility of high-speed internet in more rural parts of America makes video stores a must for folks who want to watch movies but don’t have the bandwidth to stream them.

With companies like Disney announcing plans to transfer their catalogue from Netflix to a native streaming service, one has to consider a scenario in which new releases become increasingly ephemeral online — but by purchasing or leasing the discs, video stores are able to rent newer titles sooner, and they then become a part of their collection forever.

Rights issues also become less tricky with physical copies of media. “The customer doesn’t have to know if the film or series is on Netflix or Amazon or Hulu or HBO or Showtime or Filmstruck or MUBI or Shudder or YouTube or the dark web; it’s at the store!” says Hatch.

Family Video has survived in the Midwest because they made savvier business decisions than their competitors, but how exactly does one start over with a new video store concept in 2018?

For video stores to become a thriving, necessary part of film culture again, we also need to think about how to re-envision them as sustainable, community-driven efforts — and not just in LA. With that in mind, I spoke to two teams who are working to bring video stores into a new era.

In Baltimore, a crowd-sourced collection is coming together thanks to seven members of the Baltimore Video Collective. After running a successful Kickstarter campaign, Beyond Video is building a video library and location from scratch. “We’re an all-volunteer, worker/owner collective that’s ranged from 5 to 11 people in size, with all the labor donated by us. We’ll each work a couple shifts in the store each month around our other jobs and practices,” says BVC member Eric Allen Hatch.

Beyond Video used innovative methods to build their library from scratch. “The first steps were open calls for DVD/VHS/Blu Ray donations, followed by a Kickstarter, which succeeded in large part thanks to a mystery anonymous donor who came through with $10K of our $30K. Then, as we spent the Kickstarter money on fixing up our location, building shelves, painting, obtaining needed equipment, etc., it became clear that we’d need to crowdsource the holes in our collection as well,” said Hatch. “When you call for open donations, you get some interesting and impressive titles, but also a lot of BORAT and Adam Sandler.”

The Director’s Section at Beyond Video

Hatch also highlights some labels that have been inclined to support Beyond’s effort to bring video stores into the future, noting “generous contributions from some of the best, including A24, Arbelos, Cinema Guild, Criterion, Factory 25, Grasshopper, KimStim, Kino Lorber, Oscilloscope, and Warner Archives…our inventory certainly still has gaps and holes but will soon be worthy of comparison to Video Americain.” Beyond Video also has an active Wish List that allows supporters to purchase or donate a title for their ever-growing library.

In addition to providing Baltimore film fans with an extensive library to explore, Beyond Video also hopes to preserve and promote classic films, especially for burgeoning cinephiles.

“As film catalogues get splintered across a seemingly infinite number of streaming platforms, our sense of film history gets splintered as well. Netflix wants you binging their original content, not Fassbinder or Preston Sturges films. If video stores disappear and classic, independent, and art-house cinema lives only on specialty streaming services that are boutique destinations for the already-converted, how does anyone new get converted?” says Hatch.

Beyond Video doesn’t have an official relaunch date as of now, but they’re seeking volunteers to help get their store off the ground. “We think Beyond Video may point to a path along which video stores can bounce back. I also think it’ll serve many new functions. I hope Beyond Video can be all those things for film lovers in Baltimore,” says Hatch.

In Los Angeles, founders Patty Polinger and Cathy Tauber, and Executive Director Maggie Mackay are looking for a new home. They’re Vidiots, the iconic video store that’s aiming to reopen a new space to showcase their singular collection of over 50,000 titles. Vidiots shuttered its Santa Monica location in early 2017, but the Los Angeles institution is working to relaunch by 2019.

Tauber and Polinger started Vidiots in 1985, when “Video stores were opening in every little strip mall in the city — our families kept telling us we were insane, but we kept saying ‘no, no, it’s gonna be different’…from day one, people were coming in and noticing that it was not your normal mom n’ pop video store,” says Tauber.

“Within the first two years, we had done Kenneth Anger, X: THE UNHEARD MUSIC…we were doing crazy stuff, performance artists we found on the Venice boardwalk. Filmmakers would come in and say, ‘I made this film, would you like to rent it?’ and it was great because we were getting movies that weren’t really available elsewhere,” explains Polinger. “We didn’t judge people on their taste, on what they wanted to watch or not watch — that kind of film snobbery never worked for us. I didn’t ever want anyone to walk in our store and feel like they weren’t welcomed by us,” she adds.

For Vidiots, the decline in business began after 2003. “[That was] our peak. In talking to customers, at first, it seemed like DVR was the bigger enemy than streaming, and there was so much good TV at the time,” says Tauber. But, Polinger added, “People never talk about TV when we talk about video stores, but we have so much British, Canadian, French TV…it might have been our biggest money-maker. You could binge six seasons of something, or pull really old stuff, like Dean Martin.”

In 2012 Vidiots transitioned to a non-profit model and became Vidiots Foundation in order to keep the doors open and allow customers to access their living library of films. For several years, Vidiots has been working with archivists to asses their massive catalogue, which is currently in storage.

“We have 11,000 VHS tapes. We’ve worked with a few waves of archivists to go through the collection. On the last round, they pulled 250 tapes, a mix of everything from a compilation of commercials for toys for girls (no kidding) to some titles I can’t even get into because of licensing complexities. In many cases, we pulled titles to save them from deteriorating or becoming completely unavailable to the public…when the archivists were going through the collection, I would occasionally show up to work, and there’d be a tape on my desk with a note saying ‘DO NOT RENT EVER AGAIN,’” said Mackay.

Cathy Tauber and Patty Polinger

Preservation is a key component of Vidiots’ mission, so it should come as no surprise that they’re dedicated to making some of the rarest titles in their collection more widely accessible. “Once the collection is out of storage, we’ll begin the intense work of collaborating with licensing experts to get those titles licensed and digitized so they can once again be available to the public,” Mackay says.

Like Eddie Brandt’s or Scarecrow, there are many titles in the Vidiots catalogue that are unavailable elsewhere. “When I found DUTCHMAN, something that’s very hard to find, that’s when I realized we had films by masters, that are absolutely part of the canon, which most people don’t realize you can’t access — things like John Waters’ MONDO TRASHO and SCORPIO RISING that have rights issues that will never be resolved,” Mackay continued.

Polinger and Tauber both mourned the loss of their VHS copy of SCORPIO RISING — Kenneth Anger’s seminal short film that has only ever been available in alternative formats due to music rights issues. “One time we rented it, and it just never came back,” said Polinger. “That was that.”

A European VHS copy of SCORPIO RISING

Polinger also stressed that Vidiots houses an extensive, singular collection of video art: “Some of the feminist stuff that would be really relevant right now — ‘We Are Not Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice,’ — things from the Women’s Video Collective. No other video store has that.”

In order to best showcase the variety of Vidiots, Polinger, Tauber, and Mackay realized that the store needed to evolve for 2018. “As suggested in THE LEOPARD, we know that in order for things to stay the same, they have to change,” said Mackay. “We don’t have a problem with streaming services, as long as they don’t eliminate the spaces that provide deeper access, browsing, and human interaction, like movie theaters and video stores,” she explained.

Vidiots hopes to relaunch in a new neighborhood — their former home on the far west side was becoming cost-prohibitive, and made it difficult for many Angelenos to access the store. “We’re a 33-year-old film space founded and helmed by women, and we feel very strongly that, especially now, LA needs a truly inclusive film space — so we’re looking at a new model to bring people to our library, and offer a unique slate of programs both big and small, like the Harry Dean Stanton Award tribute, signature community screenings and events, collaborations with other programmers and organizations, and education initiatives for kids,” said Mackay.

David Lynch presenting Harry Dean Stanton with Vidiots’ first Harry Dean Stanton Award, at the Theater at Ace Hotel DTLA in 2016 (photo by Matt Petit)

“Of course we want to grow the library with new releases, but we’ll also take on films that are worthy but aren’t getting picked up by distributors. We want to add more shorts and music videos, and films on VHS that are at-risk. And we want to be able to showcase all that work and more, in a space where everyone feels they belong. We’ll again be a resource for filmmakers and academics, for new generations of film fans, and for underserved communities that don’t currently have full access to this art form,” she continued.

“The new model for Vidiots will be more membership-based, and offer a broad range of options so that higher-tier memberships will offset the cost of lower-tier memberships. Regardless of economics, we want everyone to be part of the space and have access to the library,” Mackay said. “We have no investment in one film over another. A music video that got dropped off twenty years ago is as important to us as a film that won the Oscar this year…you can’t say the same of big corporations that have their own financial agendas.”

The women behind Vidiots understand the essential human element a video store provides, and know that the new iteration of Vidiots can provide that for film fans of all ages.

"We'd like to see people come by for a coffee in the morning, take or return a few movies, maybe do a little work or research, or watch something, then come back for the 9PM showing of a rep title or word-of-mouth screening of a new movie. We'll be a space where one visit you might see a band perform a live score to an old movie, and another you'll come with your new baby for a parent-and-me screening," Mackay adds.

Polinger, Tauber, and Mackay all hope that their mission to reopen Vidiots inspires other video stores across the country too. “We know each other. We know Kate [Barr] at Scarecrow, we talk to Milos [Stehlik] at Facets, we know Jim Salzer up in Ventura with Salzer’s, Beyond Video in Baltimore, and Mark at Vidéothèque in South Pasadena…it’s a network. It would be lovely to have everything merged into one giant inventory — like you’re looking for this film and you could get it from somewhere in New York or Scarecrow,” said Polinger. “A year from now, I’d like to see us open, and the library accessible,” added Tauber.

Salzer’s Video, via Yelp

Beyond Video and Vidiots are leading the charge for what a new video store can look like in 2018. Of course, only time will tell whether or not viewers can be summoned back to the video store, but Hatch for one remains optimistic: “People are shedding their DVDs and Blu-Rays the way they were records in the 90s. I think they’re going to miss them soon; and when they do, I hope Beyond Video (and similar projects in other cities) will still be there for them.”

An Elegy for Blockbuster

My own obsession with video stores began in 1995, when my Cincinnati suburb got its first Blockbuster. I remember every detail of my first visit there: my dad picked me up from kindergarten, told me we were doing something cool, and that it was a surprise. Once I was set loose in the kids section, with the instruction of only being allowed to pick one movie, I was mesmerized: all of these movies I’d heard of but never fully conceptualized were just right there for me on a shelf.

After an intense deliberation, I selected Disney’s CINDERELLA as my first-ever video rental. Blockbuster sent us home with a snack pack — if only I could recapture the bliss of watching CINDERELLA on our living room floor while munching on that free, stale, popcorn with every subsequent home viewing experience.

Via Dinosaur Dracula

As a curious kid who was already well-acquainted with the endless possibilities of a library, I soon came to crave the exploratory element of each Blockbuster visit — no two visits were the same, and there was always something new I’d somehow missed the last time.

Blockbuster was a major part of my development as a young cinephile — Friday night visits with my parents, my Memaw, or later, my friends, were a ritual I looked forward to all week. There were other stores — a short-lived pop-up in our local Kroger where I once sneakily rented WELCOME TO THE DOLLHOUSE, a Hollywood Video where a few bad kids at school once got busted for trying to steal THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT — but mostly, it was all about Blockbuster.

I’d marvel as my parents talked to the clerks about 90s indie fare like HAPPINESS (which was of course, never available at a Blockbuster) and paid special attention to in-store culture, like which titles got stamped with the notorious youth restricted viewing sticker.

The only curation to speak of at my local Blockbuster was a middle section with a few dozen rotating titles. But, that never stopped me from wandering around the store, and discovering movies I instantly adored like MARS ATTACKS! and SHAUN OF THE DEAD along with classics like BROADCAST NEWS throughout my teenage years. Even as my tastes evolved, there was always something at Blockbuster — they even stocked titles like AUDITION in lil ol’ Sharonville, Ohio.

And then I went to college. And got disc Netflix. And never rented a movie from Blockbuster again.

My very last visit to a Blockbuster was to a location on La Brea during its final days. Perusing the aisles for one last time, I didn’t want to leave because I knew I’d be closing that portal to my cinematic past once I did — seeing the remnants of a decimated Blockbuster was enough of a bummer on its own, but knowing anything that didn’t get bought would either end up trashed or donated into obscurity only made it worse. I regret not buying a big Blockbuster sign, a relic of a time and a culture that was dying — just like Toys R.’ Us. Just like music retailers. Just like malls.

But, in the last year, I’ve had so many conversations with people of all ages and backgrounds lamenting the void left by the loss of these kind of essential community spaces. And with the (very necessary) closure of Cinefamily, the New Beverly being shuttered for renovations since the first of the year, and Vidiots still searching for a new home here in LA, even in the movie capital of the world, film fans are without a single, centralized gathering place.

I enjoy (most of) my interactions with Film Twitter, but there’s also no question about the tangible mood boost I got from visiting every single one of these video stores IRL. Even if I browsed alone and didn’t speak to anyone else, just being among other people, hearing them talk, and making a physical investment in visiting a video store felt better than any night I’ve ever spent browsing streaming platforms.

“Having the in-person interaction pins you to a place where you are inclined to talk at length about the possibilities — the back-and-forth may indeed get you to try a film you didn’t know. Online discourse tends to be more terse and to the point because it’s exhausting to type at length, and tweets are short — if you’re not sold instantaneously on the other person’s spiel, you can abandon the chat immediately,” says Heuck.

As technology continues isolating us and pushing more of our daily interactions into the digital space, I have to believe there’s going to be a bounce-back moment for video stores just as there’s been for independent booksellers and record stores.

The joy of spontaneous discovery, of getting a recommendation from someone that really pays off, of remembering where you were in the world the time you found the thing — your thing — is likely to be more meaningful when it happens offline.

Movie Madness in Portland, via Red Tricycle

Folks at Vulcan Video in Austin, Odd Obsession and Facets in Chicago, Videodrome in Atlanta, Movie Madness in Portland, and Video Free Brooklyn (to name just a few of the other incredible video stores still thriving in America) understand that a film community can only be at its best when it has a video store as a primary hub within. Patronizing and celebrating these great video stores is essential to their survival — Scarecrow Video is running a fundraising campaign to celebrate their 30th anniversary, and if you love video stores, supporting Scarecrow is a must.

Streaming may seem like an impossible hurdle for video stores to overcome now, but consider how much has changed in the last ten years of movie-watching. In 2008, Netflix was adding Blu Ray discs to their rental service, lifting streaming limits for disc subscribers for the first time, and shuttering its first film financing and acquisition arm, Red Envelope Entertainment.

When thinking about what our media consumption habits will look like in 2028, I have to believe that while streaming, instant media, and robust digital content will only continue to grow, they’ll also be a reaction to that culture — and folks will begin to crave in-person experiences once again. “While the internet promised instant availability of everything at your fingertips, the reality is very different,” says Hatch.

As we look to what the future holds for video stores, I think we can all agree that without community effort, nothing will change. So, as we continue searching for the last great video stores, I do have one favor to ask.

The Last Great Video Stores

I’ve created a Google Map of the last great video stores in America (and a few abroad.) This is, of course, by no means an exhaustive list — I’ve done my best to locate and confirm that these video stores are still operating, but I’ve undoubtedly missed some locations.

This is where you come in: if you have a great video store in your community, I’m asking you to add it to our Google Map. All you need to do is send the name and address of your video store to lastgreatvideostore@blcklst.com, and we’ll include it on our map.

We’ll share updates on our social media channels, so you can keep searching for video stores and telling us about them — there might even be one in your neighborhood you didn’t know about. I want this map of the last great video stores to become a global effort, a network where we celebrate as many video stores as we can — the only way we’re going to save video stores is to patronize and promote them together.

And if you haven’t been to a video store in a while — I know, I know, you probably haven’t — I implore you to take an afternoon and check out one in your community. Remember what it’s like to lose a couple hours picking up cases, engaging with other customers and staff, and discovering things you didn’t even know you were looking for. Let us know when you stop by your local video store with #LastGreatVideoStore, and we’ll share your post.

We’re also going to be accepting pitches for a series on Essential Video Stores, very much in the mode of our Essential Films series. So, if you’ve got an Essential Video Store you’d like to tell the world about, send us your pitch at lastgreatvideostore@blckst.com.

I hope we can spend our summers falling in love with video stores again — instead of yet another night of being unable to pick a movie from your queue and settling for an old episode of TV instead, take that time and seek out a video store in your town. And, as we build and share our #LastGreatVideoStore map, the remaining video stores should become easier to find.

Scrolling through a digital catalogue can never rival the personal interaction a video store offers. Even if you go only to observe, there’s still so much to be said for being among other people who love movies — each of you with your own agenda, but with a shared admiration for the art of the browse, the thrill of discovery. Being alone, together, in a shared community space is still an extremely powerful thing.

When you don’t live in a big city, video stores are a sort of connective tissue to the larger world of film —when we lose that connection, we’re losing an essential gateway to loving film, which will in turn keep scores of young film fans from discovering titles they might never find on streaming. And if we’re not careful, we will lose video stores forever: that means not only losing extensive libraries and the rarities contained within, but losing one of the few gathering spaces film fans have outside of the cinema.

On your own journey to find the last great video store, you might just find a part of yourself you’d forgotten about along the way too — the part of you that stood in front of a rack of videos as a teenager before discovering a gloomy romance that perfectly captured your teen angst in the form of FRESH HORSES. Remember what it felt like to have an entire world of story, sound, and image at your fingertips, when infinite possibility was only a $3 rental away.

In the opening to LIFE ITSELF, the late, great Roger Ebert tells us: “The movies are like a machine that generates empathy. It lets you understand a little bit more about different hopes, aspirations, dreams, and fears. It helps us to identify with the people who are sharing this journey with us.”

So, as you go in search of the last great video store in your little corner of the universe, I hope that you get to celebrate movies with some fellow travelers along the way. I still believe that movies are magic, and that video stores are one of the last places where we can capture and share that magic with each other — and you just never know what movie, what conversation, or what person in a video store could change your life.

Author’s note: Data in this piece is from Just Watch, and was current as of June 2, 2018. Due to the constantly changing nature of streaming catalogues, these numbers will vary on a daily basis.

^ More on streaming rights from Marc Edward Heuck: It stands to reason that streaming was initially considered “broadcast” by existing music contracts for theatrical and TV use because in the early days of Netflix and Amazon, you saw rarities like DEADHEAD MILES and UNHOLY ROLLERS available with their soundtracks intact.

Movies that have had longstanding split rights situations where one has theatrical and/or video but another has TV, in many cases those have been offered by the studios which held TV rights. For example, Viacom initially got the TV rights to several Cannon productions, and the former Worldvision got several Carolco projects, and Paramount inherited both those TV libraries. Go to Amazon right now, and you’ll find ANGEL HEART, CYBORG, THE DELTA FORCE, CHAPLIN, LOVE STREAMS, TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE 2, etc., being offered for streaming by Paramount instead of, say, MGM or StudioCanal, the actual respective owners of the Cannon and Carolco IPs.

Another example is that the first batch of movies Polygram Pictures produced in the early ’80s (ENDLESS LOVE, AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON, DEADLY BLESSING) are owned by Universal, but due to multiple transfers that began when Polygram gave up on their first attempt at a TV division, Lionsgate now has the TV (and streaming) rights to those movies.

However, there are variations to this formula. When Columbia bought and flipped the majority of Embassy Pictures’ assets in the mid-’80s, they kept TV rights to the films, and recent TV airings still credit Columbia parent Sony as the syndicator. But for streaming, those movies are mostly sourced by Lionsgate, whom StudioCanal, the owners of Embassy’s IPs, have partnered with to handle their library for non-theatrical media. And some classic Embassy releases like THE HOWLING and ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK are in the peculiar position of being offered for streaming on Amazon by two different companies Lionsgate, for the reasons above, and MGM, which inherited U.S. home video rights to select Embassy titles through their pre-’96 Polygram library purchase. Confused yet?

So ultimately, that’s less of a verification as it is a Q.E.D., but it’s public data in black and white all the same.

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