It’s not as if the graffiti hasn’t been scrawled on the walls of bricks-and-mortar video stores for quite some time.
“The End Is Nigh” has been the glum forecast ever since people found a new way to get their DVD fix, namely Netflix. And Netflix is responding to its own challenges in the content- delivery realm: cable’s video on demand, Redbox kiosks, online streaming.
Still, the end seemed to advance mightily when the Blockbuster chain announced recently it would shutter as many as 960 underperforming stores in the next year (there are about 4,300 stores in the country).
Mourning in advance of Blockbuster’s demise is a little like sitting shiva when Starbucks went through its recent contraction. Though we never celebrate the loss of jobs, corrections to unchecked growth happen.
As a shopping experience, Blockbuster doesn’t even rise to the calculated charms and certain comforts of Starbucks. But it has been convenient. And when the Dallas-based company began offering Total Access in 2006 (the option to get videos by mail and in-store), this moviewatcher dumped her underused Netflix account.
There are, of course, video stores that deserve our sympathies — and, more, our business. By “our,” we may have to concede we mean movie lovers of a certain stripe who hanker for recent releases but really love a thoughtful inventory and a passel of smarty- pants clerks.
There may be a Quentin Tarantino working at Netflix. But it’s hard to imagine his (or her) story rivaling the filmmaker’s stint at Manhattan Beach’s Video Archives (departed).
From this online review posted by Kym. B, a customer of Capitol Hill’s Video One, it’s clear loyal customers are torn by their myriad options.
“I’ll admit it — I’ve succumbed to the Dark Side,” she wrote on . “By ‘the Dark Side,’ I mean Netflix. And I hope that by doing so I’m not helping put places like Video One out of business. I sincerely do. See, I used to live practically next door to this place, and was the most loyal of loyalists. … Their staff was always willing to suggest something I might be interested in, after checking out what movies I had in hand. “
Indeed, it’s high praise when Colorado Public Radio film critic and University of Colorado at Denver instructor Howie Movshovitz gives a shout-out to “Noah, Will, Casey and Bruce (and others)” who make Boulder’s go-to hub Video Station such a lively place.
Movshovitz doesn’t use Netflix, “because Video Station is right there, and because I often need something for school or reference on the spur of the moment,” he says. “Most of the people who work at Video Station know film really well, and they love it, which is important to me,” he wrote in an e-mail. “Plus they have the best chocolate in town.”
Community isn’t some Luddite concern. If it were, folks wouldn’t spend so much time trying to locate it, create it, brand it in the virtual world. Community and culture feed each other. And business can play a part in that.
For instance, each year, we are certain to see John Donohoe and Jim Doescher, owners of Videotique on East Ninth Avenue, at the Telluride Film Festival. Last week, they were in the same row at the 70th- anniversary screening of “The Wizard of Oz.” Movies matter to them.
“Netflix is a fantastic service, but they don’t have some movies we have,” Donohoe says. “I think the big corporations have more to lose financially than we do. Our business means so much to us because we love it.”
He likes that people have choices. He likes even better one of the store’s customers. He comes in and rents a ton of movies at one time.
“I asked him about it once and he said, ‘I want to keep you guys in business.'”
For his part, Donohoe says “I’m determined to be the last video store on the planet.”
Film critic Lisa Kennedy: 303-954-1567 or lkennedy@denverpost.com. Also on blogs.denverpostcom/ madmoviegoer
