The End of One Era, the Beginning of Another...

Greetings, gang-a-rinos! How's everybody doing? New Year treating you all right so far? The Cap'n is making with the generic intros because I'm still mulling over what to chat up you good people about today. I saw Up in the Air last night, which was excellent, but I don't quite want to review it yet. I want to let the movie simmer for another day, I think. At this moment, it easily fits in my "Favorites" of 2009, just a few days removed. But we'll get to that soon, methinks.

Let's talk a bit about Blockbuster shutting down stores, shall we?

In the last month or so, I've been in two different cities where at least one Blockbuster video was shutting down, in that "we're even selling the shelves and fixtures" way that Circuit City did last year. While I don't mourn the massive liquidation of a video store behemoth, there are two points of interest that arise when considering the demise of a major chain: 1) what's to become of the "mom and pop" independent video stores, and 2) how much should one comfortably benefit from their creed that "everything must go"?

The first comes up in the wake of a series of articles I wrote over the last three years about the slow death of the independent video store and even, to some degree, the "baby" chains like North American Video. Netflix and Redbox are just hurting the Hollywood Videos and the Blockbusters; their convenience and ease of use are leaving the indie stores struggling to keep up with the demand for everything right now.

I don't necessarily weep for Blockbuster because they were directly responsible for killing Carbonated Video, my favorite local rental hub growing up. Carbonated Video had a great selection of well known and obscure titles, they stocked multiple copies, and had deals where you could rent twenty movies for twenty dollars (plus get a free copy of The Video Movie Guide). I frequented that cinematic watering hole and through years of combing through titles, saw movies I never would have experienced at the bigger stores.

They even rented Laserdiscs and Laserdisc players, which to younger readers might sound like a foreign concept, but once upon a time movies in a digital format were the size of records and had to be flipped over. Back in the old days, before dual layer DVDs or Blu-Rays, the Laserdisc was a cineaste's treat: commentary tracks, alternate versions, bonus material... a joy.

But Carbonated Video doesn't exist any more. Blockbuster opened up and killed it. North American Video (formerly Video Bar) is hanging on, but just barely. Like Video Review here, it survives due to a loyal fanbase, but that can't last forever. It's getting too easy to have movies delivered to you, without late fees, and with a selection I've yet to see any video store (even the big ones) top. And if the big boys are being choked out, the little stores don't have much hope either.

To wit: I am a Netflix user. I've had the service for almost five years now, and I use the rental and "watch it now" streaming frequently. Their selection of Blu Ray films is better, their foreign films span deeper and wider, and it saves me considerably more money than hunting down titles or driving around. In one month I pay less for any three movies than I would buying them, and I see things I wouldn't otherwise. So I realize I'm part of the problem here, but I'm not trying to bemoan the loss of our beloved "independent stores"; this is more of an acknowledgment of the passing of one era to another.

The second point is a weirder one to raise, I know. Clearly, if Blockbuster is selling their movies, and a high quantity of films that might otherwise be unavailable are suddenly for purchase, why on earth would I think twice about cleaning them out? After all, when I go to the closing stores, I tend to pick up movies their normal customers wouldn't think twice about, and movies I don't typically come across, like Timecrimes, The Five Obstructions, and Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance.

My answer goes something like this: while it is taking advantage of a great deal (we're talking $2-4 per movie here), the money is still going to Blockbuster. It's still helping them out, and might I not consider that this money could be spent just as well at a local bookstore like Edward McKay's, which also stocks a varied selection of films. For example, I just picked up Roman Polanski's Knife in the Water today, and considered buying Francis Ford Coppola's One From the Heart. I've seen The Five Obstructions at Ed McKay's, and for a few dollars more could have supported that business instead of a video store I've actively avoided for the last few years.

It's not that I have some blanket condemnation of Blockbuster on some moral high ground; it's just that I don't really feel the need to go to Blockbuster and they don't seem to want my business. It's mutually beneficial that way. Suddenly I'm jumping in like a jackal to feast on their remains because, well, I can. Did I really need a copy of Surveillance on Blu-Ray, or did I just buy it because I'd never seen it anywhere else? Why am I not just renting this stuff?

That sounds a bit ridiculous and self serving, but I do wonder what the value in piling on with the other vultures is. Sometimes I wonder if I really need any of it, or if it's just such a good deal that not picking it up would seem foolish at the moment. I passed over a copy of Thunderbolt and Lightfoot, a Clint Eastwood heist flick featuring a young Jeff Bridges that I happen to enjoy, the last time I was over there. If I go back, and it's much cheaper, will I buy it just because it's there? Because most people would walk right past? I'm not sure.

What I will say is that if I see more copies of Blood Car, I'll pick them up as a way to entice you good people to "Guest Blog" for me. Consider it a "win/win": I get to read your writing and you get a copy of Blood Car. I can't see a loser in this scenario, except the video stores.

Aw crap.