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| Images courtesy of Arrow Video |
Co-writer-directors Cody Kennedy and Tim Rutherford best
known for their segment M is for Magnetic Tape in The ABCs of Death
2.5 as well as the TV series Straight to Video: The B-Movie Odyssey
are all but completely entrenched in everything cult horror VHS videotape store
oriented from top to bottom. Starting
with their 2013 short film The Last Video Store about the death of the video
store in an ever-overarching digital age spearheaded by an evil Techno-Wizard
from another dimension, the synth wave retro-nostalgic homage to a bygone era
that seems to be regaining strength in popularity among physical media
collectors would be remade as a feature effort ten years later. Something of an 80s cult science-fiction straight-to-video
riff on Cinema Paradiso with impassioned love for the flickering small
CRT tube screen with references to preexisting as well as recent modern cult
items, The Last Video Store (reportedly one of two films of the same
name in 2023 albeit unrelated) comes to Arrow Video blu-ray disc for the first
time in a deluxe limited special edition.
Revamping the story somewhat though using some of the same actors including Josh Lenner and co-writer Tim Rutherford, The Last Video Store concerns young woman Nyla (Yaayaa Adams) who has the unlucky task of cleaning up after her late father’s messes including but not limited to returning some VHS tapes to a remote still-standing video store called Blaster Video managed by the nerdy awkward manager Kevin (Kevin Martin reprising his role from the short). Unbeknownst to her however, among the tapes being returned is one not from his store but a legendary “cursed” tape replete with scales and jagged edges. Piquing the interest of both characters, they decide to see what’s on the cassette, not knowing they’re about to unleash demonic forces that take the form of villains from movies on the shelves including a hockey-masked Jason knockoff.
With constant references to the Astron 6 catalog including but not limited to posters for everything from The Editor, Father’s Day, Manborg and even PG: Psycho Goreman and odes to like-minded 80s exploitation flicks made on the cheap and fly ala Samurai Cop or Terror Firmer. Movies that don’t necessarily aim high but at home make a perfect beer-and-pizza combination with some friends, it is a love letter to both a bygone era of home video cinema and to an era of cult video stores that could only exist within our imagination. Intentionally cheesy tongue-in-cheek with elements of the company’s supernatural surreal horror efforts ala The Void with a mixture of subtle CGI and practical effects work, it manages to be a real treat for physical media fans and genre fans who enjoy when their home video cheapies flying off the handles.
Featuring moody low key purple-neon lit cinematography and music both from Brandon Boucher co-photographed by Benji Irwin and featuring lovingly rendered production design of the video store interior by co-director Tim Rutherford and editing by co-director Cody Kennedy, The Last Video Store is something of a mom-and-pop from the ground up effort made by fans who love the power of the magnetic tape reel and strip. Though only featuring a cast of five actors, everyone particularly Yaayaa Adams as the plucky scream queen and Kevin Martin as the geeky video store clerk who rises to the unlikely occasion of heroics and Josh Lenner as the action star Viper who has an existential crisis when he finds out he’s a fictional character in a film, gives pitch perfect performances for the goofiness they’re tasked with delivering.
A synthwave 80s neon-lit homage in a videostore surrounded by posters of like-minded retro-throwback nods, The Last Video Store while not a documentary and having nothing to do with Brian Vining’s crime dramedy of the same name is a splendid night home with the small screen, some booze and junk food. While some these days are perhaps tiring of the 80s retro homage schtick, on the other hand the renewed interest in the power of physical media over streaming digital and the cultural community that arose from perusing the aisles and store shelves makes this a bona-fide treat for genre fans and physical media collectors. A bit of a goofball trippy companion piece to, say, The Last Blockbuster documentary and more recently Kim’s Video, The Last Video Store is a tongue-in-cheek horror-comedy hoot while also a paean to an era of home video renting and viewing filmgoers like myself miss dearly.
--Andrew Kotwicki