If you are old enough, I’m sure you miss the video store days. Those wonderful Friday nights at the local movie rental palace, with row after row of potential mind-expanding, mind-exploding cinema. From the experimental to the exploitive and even the exalted works in beautiful genre-identified, alphabetized sections with a recommendation wall where Godard’s Pierrot le fou could live comfortably next to Gordon’s From Beyond. It was an exceptional time and place for a cinephile to wander, sometimes aimlessly, into an interesting Friday night movie.
In my neighborhood, we had all the rental chains and a few “mom and pop” shops, but the best place in my neck of the woods to find the strangest cataloging of movies was at this local grocery store that had the videos right next to the bakery. The grouping of movies ranged from “Clint Eastwood Westerns” to “Non-Clint Eastwood Westerns,” “Scary