Most of us who remember perusing the fluorescently-lit aisles of Blockbuster reflect fondly on the video store experience; and when we think of its downfall, our minds might jump to blame the rise of streaming platforms. But in his documentary Videoheaven, Alex Ross Perry examines the film culture around video stores to explain what they revealed about social anxieties of the time — both during their rise in the '80s and their decline in the '00s.
The film, which had its North American premiere at this year's Tribeca Festival, is split into several chapters that take us through the life and death of video stores using footage from an expansive archive of filmic depictions of these iconic spaces. Tracing the social narratives around video stores, spanning anxiety around "invasive" new technology exemplified in David Cronenberg's 1983 classic Videodrome to the dislikable know-it-all video store clerk trope that continues to live on in films like Chandler Levack's I Like Movies, the film covers every corner of this niche history; it's no surprise that it took over ten years for Perry to create.
By examining portrayals of social interactions within these stores, which devolve into awkwardness and discomfort over time, Perry points to this "subconscious attack on the video store" as a central cause of their downfall, asking, "Who gets to be happy in the video store?"
Videoheaven is incredibly nerdy and certainly impressive. The well-selected blend of archival footage allows for an entertaining watch that keeps audiences hooked on the narration from Maya Hawke.
But despite all that it does well, Videoheaven suffers from an overextended run time nearing three hours, and occasional overlap of arguments — at several points throughout Perry's historical overview, he notes that video stores are now being presented as a mundane part of life, even though he already introduced this idea earlier in the film. The body of archived footage is impressive, but would have benefited from another edit to pick up the pace of the essay. Perry has a very specific audience in mind for this film, and folks who aren't already interested in film culture would have a hard time overlooking the length.
Despite this, Perry makes arguments stimulating for the cinephile and still accessible for the layperson, and we can hear the filmmaker's passion for video stores and witty humour come through in Hawke's sultry voiceovers.
For the average viewer, this won't be a casual watch. But any film buff mourning the death of video stores will bask in Perry's movie rental afterlife — there's lots of material to be haunted by.