The rise and fall of video.

What a sad, forlorn sight videos make in charity shops. Nearly as sad as the odd creatures that buy them, picking up ancient Chuck Norris films like they just have discovered a Ming vase. These once great kings of the entertainment world, now sitting, unloved, on skid row for no more than twenty pence each.

 

What made me take notice was that someone, working in the shop, had displayed the silver widescreen Star Wars box set in a prominent position on the shelf. like they really had something of worth. Not just a curio that we paid an arm and a leg for a million years ago. I don't even want to get into the horrors I had with Return of the Jedi, I struggled to get a decent copy that wasn't a mass of lines and dots. I can feel the echoes of that frustration even now. Next to the Star Wars, no doubt given prominence by the same person,  was a Terminator 2 with its Playhouse sticker still firmly attached. It made me remember when there were whole shops just dedicated to video. They were never exactly cheap and you couldn't buy the new release right away so you were forced to the video rental store.

 

Back in the day there was small ones everywhere, almost boasting their lack of choice and  the agony when you got there an hour, or so, late to be confronted with empty spaces where the new releases should have been. Trudging back home with Caddyshack 2 or a down market Trancers, and being greeted by a 'What on Earth did you get that out for?' I always felt a bad choice of video rental was worse than a bad choice at the cinema. At least in the cinema you were sort of locked in. With a stinker video, there was always  that moment when you all knew it was time to turn it off and watch whatever was on telly. It felt like total defeat and you felt the heat of the recriminating looks if it was your pick. Or worse still, if you heard that grinding noise, no not a porno, and realised your machine was chewing up the video. Taking it back to the shop and hoping no one would notice.

 

Then came DVD. I remember the first time I saw one, it was Goldeneye, playing in the Hastings branch of Dixons. I stopped dead and said, 'What the hell is that?' I felt like Mr. Toad when he sees the car rush by. I could hear the death knell of my video collection right there in Dixons. There will never be another leap as great as the one from video to DVD. From lines and fuzz to clarity in one swift move.

 

But I suppose the same will happen to DVD, and eventually Blu Ray, and then I will be the odd creature rooting through the charity shop shelves. Something to look forward to I suppose.