I haven’t been to Blockbuster in years. Not because I don’t watch movies, but because I’ve switched to Netflix, HBO, and Cinemax. They’ve closed down several stores in my area, and the one that remains is not well stocked. But when you need a movie for a film study, and Netflix doesn’t have it instantly online, then you make due with the resources that are available to you. Rummaging through the glove box and center console of my car, I found the little key-fob card thing with my Blockbuster bar code. It will have to do.
I’m not sure why I dread Blockbuster so much, but I do. Every time I go in, I feel like I’m walking through a Goodwill thrift store wearing a tuxedo, and someone I know will point and say, “Haha! You’re RENTING! Go back to 1988, VHS Boy!” It just seems so dirty to me. Unethical. So non-vogue. Besides that, they never have the actual movie you’re looking for, unless you’re into farting, burping, teen starlet comedies, of which they have several copies of each. I refuse to rent them, not only because they’re mind-numbingly atrocious, but because they reek of teen farts and burps.
The movie in question was Rope, which is more than a mere classic from Alfred Hitchcock. Hitchcock was known for producing some low budget films that didn’t look low budget. 35mm film stock comes in reels of 1000 feet. At 90 feet per minute, this gives the director approximately eleven minutes of film per reel. The way the story goes, Hitchcock ran each reel to its full eleven minutes so as to avoid having a few seconds of unused (wasted) film at the end. Every eleven minutes, he either faded to black at calculated moments or deliberately placed black objects in the camera’s path so as to allow the next reel to seamlessly splice in and pick right up. Genius, considering the precision timing involved.
Blockbuster? Oh, they didn’t have Rope. But they did have another Hitchcock classic, Lifeboat. There I stood, waiting in line next to parents holding farting, burping comedies for their teens who, incidentally, were still at home, too embarrassed to be seen in a Blockbuster with their parents. Years ago, I would be hiding my passé movie selection from the others, dodging random snickers. Classics? Grandpa’s movies? This was business, though, which now takes on a “cooler” context. And that’s when the sales droid amused me…
DROID: Oh, your card is expired. For fifteen dollars, I can renew it for a year. Actually, for ten, since this first one is free!
ME: Yeah, I only come in once a year. Renew? Can’t I just rent it without the big renewal thing?
DROID: Yes, for $5.47, but you can renew it for ten. And it’s good all year!
ME: Look, I’m a producer and just need to watch it for a film study. And you didn’t have the exact movie I needed anyway, so this one will have to do. Normally I’d get it mailed from Netflix, but I need to watch it this weekend. I only come in once a year, so I don’t need a subscription. And I already feel dirty for coming here. And old. And unloved.
DROID: But it’s only four dollars more.
*crickets*
ME: Here’s six dollars. Knock yourself out.
This explains why they’ve closed the other Blockbusters, and why this one survives only as a backup to depleted garage sale inventory.
Jefferson Feil is a producer/screenwriter living in the Los Angeles area. A California native, Jeff spends his time relaxing by his backyard pool, writing captivating screenplays, frightening his neighbors, entertaining his three cats with pretend mice, and exploring the versatility of common household items. He also dabbles in photography, voice acting, and kitchen fire management. His charm and sarcastic sense of humor create an eclectic mix of intrigue and sophistication, which pour through his literary works like nacho cheese. He is the recipient of several top honors, including the prestigious Mrs. Schumacher 5th Grade Perfect Attendance award.
Occasionally, we have to swallow our pride, abandon our logic and do things like this with crossed fingers and a hope that nobody is watching. Don’t think of it as unethically Goodwill, think of it as direly resourceful. Some people mall even consider it antique chic. Either way, we are all stuck in these less than ideal situations in the more awkward times in our life and we must simply make lemonade. I typically make mine with Ketel. It helps was away the residual pain of whatever nasty thing it was that ran through my mind (like teen burps) while committing the resourceful act.
Rope sounds delightfully crafted, although upwards of 1,000 feet of it does sounds a bit excessive. It really only takes about 6 feet, but I digress.
Also, if you’re interested in the things that take place in eleven minutes intervals, I would recommend speaking to Paolo Coelho, as his novel on the topic so beautifully paints a touching and sensual picture in the cinema of the mind.
On a final note, I’d like to add that you are not old or unloved. You’re perhaps a bit dirty from time to time (obviously, with lines like “I’m a producer”) but that’s what makes you fun.