When Distribution Video Audio shipped its final truckload of videotapes on December 23, 2008, it was seen as the dying breath of VHS. After bringing the moviegoing experience into the homes of millions of Americans, surviving a nasty battle with Betamax, and introducing "Be Kind, Rewind" into the cultural lexicon, VHS had finally given up the ghost, usurped by shiny, sinister discs. And as with every format shift in the film world—from silent to sound, or nitrate prints to safety stock—countless works of art were lost in the transition, left to languish in obsolescence. In a 2009 interview with the Austin Chronicle, Alamo Drafthouse programmer (and VHS devotee) Zack Carlson estimated that “only 25 percent of the movies ever made prior to the birth of VHS were ever actually released on home video,” and only about 50 percent of those made it to DVD, which leaves thousands upon thousands of films that were lost forever—and thousands more that will disappear once everyone abandons their VCRs.
That's where Viva VHS! comes in: When employees at Seattle's legendary Scarecrow Video heard the sad news in 2008, they initially planned a funeral for the format. But mourning soon turned to celebration, as they opted instead to keep the spirit of VHS alive by organizing a show dedicated to mining all the magnetized cultural heritage—all those myriad Porky’s knock-offs, slapped-together slashers, and C-list celebrity self-help tapes—that the world is in danger of losing. On Feb. 24, the Alamo’s Carlson and fellow tape-head Lars Nilsen will welcome their northwest soulmate, Scarecrow Video’s Tommy Swenson, for the Austin première of Viva VHS!. Before the show, we confronted Swenson with all the supposed improvements that have been made on VHS, and forced him to defend the honor of his chosen format. (Note: Swenson asked that we point out that he’s no Luddite, and that he freely admits that DVDs have their benefits. This is all for the sake of argument.)
Special features
Tommy Swenson: A film should stand on its own. If it can't speak for itself, then no amount of filmmaker apologies are going to help you to appreciate it.
Smaller boxes
TS: This is one of the key components of why I adore VHS. The box art is incredible. On DVD, any asshole can come through and Photoshop a face above a title. But on VHS, brilliant artists labored over these incredible works of paint and ink. When you went into a video store in the ’80s, you saw just shelf after shelf of tantalizing, incredible works of lurid, exploitative art, and you could only dream what horrors—or delights—lay within. And oftentimes when you watched the tape you'd be disappointed. The art itself is a key component for why VHS needs to be preserved.
Chapter skip and scene selection
TS: Films are made to be watched from beginning to end. By jumping in at any point, you’re ruining the filmmaker's intentions. You're ignoring what comes before and after, and you’re disrupting the intended film-watching experience.
Commentary tracks