Monday, April 29, 2013

Goodbye Video Store


Today I found out that my local video store is closing down. It had been a while since I last wondered down to rent a DVD and so it was rather serendipitous that I ended up going on the day before it would seize to exist forever. I’m glad I got the chance to rent one last thing before the end.
When I entered the store I was entirely unaware that they were closing. In oblivious naivety I walked through the glass doors, smiled at the familiar lady behind the counter and headed to the TV show section to look for the first series of Charmed. There was a different vibe in the store but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, my innocent mind never dared to think that it might be packing up and closing down. I took my DVD to the counter and saw the first thing that I just couldn’t ignore as being odd: the whiteboard, usually covered in a list of the new releases and staff member’s favourite films, was wiped blank.
I handed the lady the copy of Charmed and she said “how are you today?” in a very good-to-see-you-back-again-my-faithful-regular-costumer tone. I was just about to ask her why the whiteboard had been cleared when she began to tell me that the store would be closing on Wednesday. As she said this I looked around and noticed that the store was looking especially bare, that shelves were half empty and the candy stock was very minimal. Looking around now it was obvious that this place was preparing to close.
Now I sit at home with my last video store rental by my side typing at my computer as I flash back to fond memories of my favourite place….
When I first moved to this suburb I was about to go into year 10, school was just starting to become bearable and I was happier than I’d been in a while. I liked a lot of things about our new house, I liked that I got my own room and liked that it was close to the train station, but above all else I liked that it was an 8 minute walk to the nearest strip of shops where I would be able to rent movies at the video store there.
Year 10 and 11 came and went and I would venture down to get myself a movie at least once a week, letting my love of film consume me and viewing a wide range of often life altering and idea sparking movies. I was like Roald Dahl’s Matilda only with films at a video store instead of books in a library. All of the films I consider to be my favourite today I rented and watched for the first time from that store, most notably: Stay, The Chumbsrubber and The Invisible.
Walking up and down the isles, through the drama, comedy, new release, classic, thriller and action sections, reading all the covers front and back and choosing the most appealing or interesting looking ones. It was there in those isles that I realised I wanted my future to be centred around the film industry. It was there that I found who I was.
On my 18th birthday instead of racing to the liquor store to legally buy alcohol or heading off to a casino or bar with friends for the first time, my excitement rested solely on going to the video store and renting an R18+ film for myself. They didn’t even check my ID or ask if I was 18 like I expected them to, but it was a moment I’ll never forget.
And then there were school holidays. I tended to feel very low and like life was rather meaningless when on holidays. My friends lived ages away and I didn’t get to see them. Walking down to the video store to rent a film and then walking back home again and watching it gave me some purpose when I was feeling down, and added some brightness and joy to my life. To me films aren’t just something you chuck on when you’re bored or because you just need some time to relax or have some fun. For me watching a film is like observing a piece of art unravel in story form before me and when I watch I learn and pick up elements that I might one day use in films that I make myself. During the holidays films were my saviour because they were an inspiration and a light of hope. The walk to the store itself gave me a goal and a reason to get out into the sun and fresh air, I’m very grateful that I was forced to get up and walk instead of being able to simply download the film at home.
I remember one day, walking home from the video store, I was in a particularly sad mood for no real reason that I could pinpoint, but as I walked up the street and through the park back to my house, freshly rented DVD in hand, my mood picked up and I had a silly thought. I said to myself, “I love that video store. It’s like my second home” and then I laughed because I realised how sad that would sound if I said it to someone else, someone who didn’t understand the magic and art of film and the bliss of walking up the store isles with all the covers looking longingly at you for a chance to be held and considered to rent.
The video store, not just the films themselves, helped shape a lot of strong opinions and views I have on the way our world functions. My fear of technology taking over and everything being available on the internet arose from my love of walking to the video store and renting films there and the sad but very possible thought that it may one day be gone. Furthermore, it taught me to hold onto the simple pleasures in life and to savour moments.
My dear Network Video Store, I will love you forever even if you exist only in my heart and memory now. You made me the person I am today and you were always there when I needed you most. You were a sudden sparkle of colourful lights in the dark and a soft blanket of comfort on a cold and lonely night. I doubt anyone will ever truly understand why it has grieved me so much to loose you, but knowing your doors will never open for me again made me cry like I’d lost a friend.