Be Kind. Please Rewind.

Monday is about movies. Today, it's a wee trip down memory lane to my time working retail - including a video rental store. Also a plug to donate to Aro Video's Preservation Trust Fund.

I worked in a video store, though only for a few weeks. I wished it was longer. But it was still a good time. And this was in the time of VHS tapes. Actual videos. I’d grown up, in some sense, in the video stores of New Zealand. Renting anything that needed to be seen. And many things that didn’t – or shouldn’t, and only very few where I later wished that I hadn’t.

The store I worked in was one of the ones I loved – and visited often and of course my relationship with it immediately changed when I went behind the counter.

DVDs were only just becoming a thing. We had a shelf with about 10 of them on. They were the gold. And early adopters walked the floor like millionaire landlords.

In the weeks that I worked in the video store I borrowed hundreds, maybe even a thousand tapes? New release preview copies to watch overnight, any single concert or music doco I could get my hands on if I hadn’t already and horror films, loads of horror films…

We were given the speech that if people rented pornos, we weren’t to be rude to them, but we were not to engage, could not give recommendations or share our opinions; we were not expected to be experts in that section – we were just expected to be polite.

People would lurk and we’d talk about important things at the counter – you know like how Bringing Out The Dead was one of Marty’s more underrated films and that any time he directed a script by Schrader it was worth checking in on.

You had to be there.

It is such a relic of a time to think about.

That time was called on almost every video store many years ago. But I still visit the one on the corner near where I live.

The last one standing.

I visit in hope. I visit in good faith. I rent more than I need to, and nowhere near enough to get the hero badge as being the one that will keep them alive. They will be gone – along with other non-essential services. And I’ve raised a son that will be sad when that day comes – and maybe that’s one of my proudest-dad moments actually.

I did my time in a couple of record shops and a handful of book stores, and in the video store too.

I know all about non-essential services (and how truly essential they are to some people).

A lifeblood is flowing when you’re there arguing in favour of some film no one else bothered to see. A palpitation of happiness can be felt when you spot a nostalgic cover – some movie you never ever saw but can remember seeing the picture from stores across cities, over decades and maybe even in more than one country. You’re pleased that it’s there, a hallmark, a special memory of a movie you’ll still never bother to watch.

That’s total lost cause stuff right there. And I’d like to think I’ll still fight for it while I can. The fact that it’s not worth fighting for is exactly what makes it so important.

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Aro Video is still here, and there are many ways you can support it - whether you’re a Wellington local or not. They have launched a PledgeMe campaign to transition into a trust entity to preserve the video library (some 27,000 titles collected over 33 years). They are just over halfway towards the goal and need your help.

You can continue to use the AroVision streaming site for single-serve viewings of key titles.

And there are ways to subscribe/donate by doing in-store subscription or online ordering, or there are still loads of DVDs to buy if, like me, you’ve started or always had a DVD collection. They are selling rare gems, including many now deleted titles that never turn up on any of the streaming sites.