Videoheaven (2025)
Wonder Man (1945)
Room 666 (1982)
In March, I had a plan. Watch as many MAMMOTH-sized movies as I could.
That was a stupid idea. Much better is returning to watching at whim. No plan.
I watched Videoheaven because I felt the pull of nostalgia. VHS tapes were great, weren't they?
No, they weren't. I was an early(ish) adopter of DVD in 1997 and never regretted moving away from VHS.
I miss Star Video in Eastport. A small business owned by a single person who was almost always working his own shop. I never liked Blockbuster (on Long Island) or Hollywood Video (upstate) except for the fact that I could sometimes buy used stuff for cheap.
I don't miss VHS tapes. I hate Troma. The fact that Videoheaven has to acknowledge the intertwining history of Troma and VHS alongside a way-too-long section on VHS pornography (which, as long as it is, probably still doesn't do justice to just how much pornography drove the economics of the technology), all of this is there in Videoheaven and it cured me of my nostalgia. I don't miss VHS tapes. I don't miss video stores.
Videoheaven is very watchable as it surveys the documentation/response to video stores in film and television of the 80s/90s/00s/10s. I wasn't ever bored.
You know what I do miss? Danny Kaye comedies. I need more of them in my life. Wonder Man may not be a great film, but it entertained me when I needed entertaining. Potato salad!
What was it like to watch this in 1945? We've lost entire worlds.
Looking at the films that were released in '45, it's easy to focus on the noir gems, but digging a little further shows a heap of comedy gold.
It sounds too much like a plan, and I'm going without plans right now, but part of me just wants to camp out in 1945 and watch some more comedy from the year.
Room 666 directed by Wim Wenders in 1982 is a fascinating look at a moment in time, especially interesting compared with Videoheaven. In 1982, Wenders asks many of the most important film directors of his time whether or not they think cinema will survive into the future. All of these "interviews" take place in an empty hotel room with a television playing in the background. Significantly, Werner Herzog is the only one who turns the television off as he tells the camera that he is not worried and not scared about the future of cinema. The other standout interview is Antonioni, who surprised me. His wise considerations on being flexible through changes in technology were welcome. The entire way he carried himself in his portion of this film has made me want to (re)visit some Antonioni pictures from the past.