about those I knew. It’s nice when you can go out on top and leave the audience wanting more.
DAVID LEE WHITE
VIDEO WATCHDOG made me a tourist in the hidden sections of every place I’ve lived for the past 25 years. In Pittsburgh, I took the bus to the Asian Mer- chandise store in Wilkinsburgh (it’s still there) to search for Hong Kong films that were only available in specialty stores serv- ing the Asian communities. That particular store had all the VHS tapes stored on the second floor and it took several visits before the owner would trust me to go up there on my own. There were more HK tapes to be found in food markets in Pittsburgh’s Strip District. Typically, you had to put down a deposit for each tape (as much as $25), which you would get back once you returned them. The rental itself was usually only $1. I went to these places armed with lists of film titles culled from VW. In South Oakland, there was an Italian market with Dario Argento movies on VHS (in Ital- ian, no subtitles). They refused to rent the movies to me but, for some reason, they were more than willing to sell them to me for $20 a pop. There were also several Mom & Pop video stores where one could find dif- ferent versions of the same Sergio Martino films and spend a weekend editing them to- gether by hooking up two VCRs with dubbing cables. Up on Craig Street, I found a copy of Ramgopal Varma’s RAAT at an Indian video store. It had no subtitles, but luckily there was an issue of VW with a plot synopsis.
Chicago was amazing when it came to obscure film tourism.
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Over on Devon Street (on the far North Side) there were at least a dozen Indian video stores. DVDs were on the mar- ket now, so some of the films might even have English subs. The horror films by the Ramsay Brothers were harder to find, but they were there if you searched hard enough. On the West end of Devon was a Russian video store that also sold amazing cookies. I found several films by Alexandr Ptushko—a filmmaker that I never would have heard of if not for VW.
When I became interested in Turkish films, I struck up a cor- respondence with Kaya Ozkara- calar, a student and journalist in Ankara. He and I swapped VHS tapes through the mail. It took two weeks for the movies to ar- rive via registered mail. Then, I had to take them over to a place on Devon Street and have them converted from PAL to NTSC. Eventually, Kaya and I decided to write a profile of film director Yilmaz Atadeniz which we sold to VW—my first paid writing gig. There were also gems to be found in Chicago’s Chinatown. VCDs were the preferred home video format for awhile in between VHS and DVDs. I spent all my birthday money, one year, buy- ing as many Michelle Yeoh mov- ies as I could find, then watched them all using some of John Charles’ reviews in VW to aug- ment the experience. There was also a small Chinese video store in the Uptown neighborhood that eventually sold all their VHS tapes in the colorful boxes for a buck apiece. I still have them all upstairs in my closet.
When I moved to Jersey, VHS was just about to kick the bucket. There were Indian DVD stores everywhere, so I was able to spend some time as a video tour- ist before all the stores began shutting down. I was thrilled when
it suddenly became so easy to find good quality, English sub- titled, rare films on the Internet. So thrilled, in fact, that I didn’t even notice what I was losing— the thrill of exploring those out of the way neighborhoods, of inter- acting with complete strangers who may, or may not, share my language. It was cool. It was fun. It made the world bigger and more interesting. It’s no exaggera- tion to say that I owe those expe- riences to a digest-sized magazine that wasn’t just about movies, but about experiencing art and cul- ture in a way that went beyond your front door, outside your comfort zone. VW shaped my view of art and storytelling more than two college degrees and decades worth of theatrical experience. Tim and Donna put everyone who ever contributed to the making of a film on a level play- ing field. Artists who were rel- egated to the cheap VHS horror shelves have subsequently had their reputations restored. VW made the viewing of films a more interrogative, interactive experience. It acknowledged the nameless, oneiric, existential quality to the art form that we all knew was there, but never found the language to describe. It promoted new avenues of thought and expression, as well as new cinematic idols. It de- mocratized the art form by pro- moting new artists, established auteurs and exploitation film- makers right alongside one another without irony or con- descension. Au Revoir, VIDEO WATCHDOG. You far exceeded the goals you set for yourself. You redefined how we watch movies.
BART OOSTERHORN
Thank you for that wonderful pile of paper.
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