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A truly beautiful film.

You can take the man out of Videoville, but you can’t entirely take Videoville out of the man.

Come the Christmas holidays of 2026, it’ll be 20 years since I left the best job I ever had, putting a cap on 12+ years of being paid to eat Reese’s Pieces and annoy customers with my burning belief they should be watching more weird-ass foreign films.

While video stores aren’t a thing anymore, and good luck finding anyone under 30 who evens remembers them at this point, my lifelong obsession with watching films continues to burn.

Some years I document everything I’ve seen from Jan. 1 to Dec. 31 — in 2023, for example, I hit 600, counting feature-length films and shorts — and others I don’t.

The year which recently wrapped up was one of those in which I didn’t keep a nice, handy list for myself on Lettrboxed, which I now regret as I make a late U-turn to ramble on about my favorite films from the year.

So, this won’t be a complete breakdown, though, as always, I continued to search out down ‘n dirty ’70s movies I have yet to see.

Shoutout to Tubi, the best free-if-you’re-fine-with-some-ads streaming site, as it recreates the experience of an old-school video store full of dust-covered VHS boxes with lurid artwork beckoning you to come closer.

I finally marked off “King of Marvin Gardens” with repressed radio talk show host Jack Nicholson uneasily coexisting with his back-slapping con man brother, Bruce Dern, then followed that up by accidentally discovering the drenched-in-sleaze “Hollywood 90028.

You might need some antibiotics after viewing this tale of a cameraman as he embraces the serial killer within, complete with a sense-shattering WTF finale which punches you in the face, but I’ll take that over “Avatar 17: Electric Boogaloo FernGully” any day.

Anyways, since I don’t have a complete list of my year in film — but will next year! — this list will focus on films released in 2025, which I also saw in 2025.

While there were a lot of mediocre films released, and some absolute stinkers like “Megan 2.0,” “Love Hurts,” “I Know What You Did Last Summer (2025),” “Osiris,” and “Him,” the worst movie of the year was “Fixed,” a laugh-free “adult” animated film which should have been taken out back behind the barn and put out of its misery.

Burn the negative.

But on to stuff I enjoyed!

 

20 (tie) — “The Home,”Final Destination Bloodlines,” “Heart Eyes,” “Clown in a Cornfield,” and “Weapons”

Yes, we’re cheating right from the start, with a wild mishmash of gore-soaked flicks.

Final Destination” reinvigorated the franchise, while “Heart” and “Clown” paid campy tribute to my beloved ’80s slasher flicks.

Weapons” got all the box office and awards buzz, and the finale is appropriately bonkers, but where was the love for “The Home,” a something-is-seriously-wrong-at-the-rest-home schlock-fest which ends with an even-more WTF finale?

I’m not saying it’s a great movie, but if you’re not entertained by Pete Davidson opening a can of whup-ass on senior citizen cult members, can you even still feel anything?

 

19 — “The Day the Earth Blew Up”

Porky Pig and Daffy Duck vs. aliens. Pure bliss.

Legendary.

 

18 — “Friendship”

Deeply uncomfortable “comedy” about a dude who cannot read the room, ever, but is obsessed with being friends with his neighbor, a local TV weather guy. Psyche-scarring shenanigans ensue.

 

17 — “Eddington” 

The pandemic fractures an already messed-up town in New Mexico, and that’s before Joaquin Phoenix totally loses his mind. A dark comedy painted pitch black.

 

16 — “Dangerous Animals”

A boat captain with some serious issues feeds his clients to the local sharks, until one tougher-than-she-looks surfer fights back, tooth and nail. Let the bodies hit the (ocean) floor.

 

15 — “Sew Torn” 

A small-town seamstress who’s not as meek as she seems. A dangerous drug lord. A missing briefcase. Nice lil’ Coen brothers-style crime flick with more than a few surprises awaiting us.

 

14 — “Companion”

Don’t piss off the robot. Seriously. Just don’t do it.

 

13 — “The Damned”

A doomed village in Iceland. A boat crashed on the rocks, with the survivors left to perish in the cold waters by the people trying to scrape a living out of the cold soil. Guilt will drive you mad, in a cold, cold movie best watched from under a pile of blankies.

 

12 — “Freaky Tales”

Welcome to Oakland, 1987. Things are about to get frickin’ weird. Bizarre anthology flick mixes kung fu, Nazi’s, basketball urban legend Sleepy Floyd, Tom Hanks(!), and rap music into a brain-exploding flick.

 

11 — “Magazine Dreams”

Imagine if “Taxi Driver” was about a Black bodybuilder, with the main character’s anger issues made more problematic by the real-life troubles of actor Jonathan Majors.

 

10 — “One Battle After Another”

The Oscar frontrunner (with great work by Sean Penn), and I’m fine with that, even if it’s not my personal favorite film by director Paul Thomas Anderson.

Honoring the dude who made “Boogie Nights,” “There Will Be Blood,” and “Hard Eight?” I’m down with that.

 

9 — “Sinners”

On the one hand, it’s just “From Dusk Till Dawn” for a new generation. On the other hand, the musical number with the vampires dancing outside the barn is a knock-out, and Ryan Coogler goes surprisingly deep with his fangs vs. racism story.

 

8 — “Saint Clare”

A teenage girl with voices in her head operates as a serial killer (with a code of ethics), before turning out to be her town’s best hope against some real degenerates. Stylish, low-key, and utterly disturbing. So, just my kind of thing.

 

7 — “Neighborhood Watch”

A mentally ill man (Jack Quaid) and his neighbor, a seriously grumpy former security guard (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), get in deep after the former witnesses (maybe) an abduction in broad daylight. The duo stay prickly until the end, with no fakey friendship developing, which is a nice touch.

 

6 — “Frankenstein”

It’s alive! Gorgeous, old school monster flick is a true treat for the eyeballs.

 

“You talkin’ to me?”

5 — “The Surfer”

Nicolas Cage makes a lot of movies, and by gum, the man never half-asses it, fully committing to each project. This tale of a man trying to reclaim the glory of his youth in Australia, while being driven literally crazy in the heat, is a great throwback to late ’60s/early ’70s cinema about deeply lost men.

 

4 — “Mickey 17”

Robert Pattinson dies (and dies some more) as an “expendable” in this darkly funny sci-fi satire.

 

3 — “Bugonia”

Bonkers tale of a deeply damaged man (Jesse Plemons) kidnapping the CEO of a major corporation (Emma Stone) in a bid to expose her secret life as a space alien bent on world domination. It’s a remake of the 2003 South Korean film “Save the Green Planet,” which I loved back in the Videoville days, but not a carbon copy.

 

2 — “Train Dreams” 

The most beautiful movie of the year, a haunting tale of a logger carving out a life among the trees of the Pacific Northwest while dealing with deep trauma.

 

1 — “Two People Exchanging Saliva”

It’s French. It’s shot in piercing black-and-white. It’s a 36-minute tale of a dystopian future where kissing is outlawed, you pay for things by getting slapped, and intimacy will get you put in a box and thrown off a cliff.

Literally.

It’s on the shortlist to be nominated for Best Live Action Short at this year’s Oscars, and we riot if it doesn’t make the cut.

Way back in 1993, when I was still writing movie columns for The Coupeville Examiner, I picked the Wallace and Gromit short, “The Wrong Trousers”, as the best film of its year.

“Two People” is similar in that it demonstrates a perfect film can be perfect at any length.

Sometimes you need three hours. Sometimes you don’t.

 

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Ooh baby, baby…

I came from the turbulent sea, where whitecaps rocked our boat at all hours and the smell of decaying seafood forever scarred my nose hairs.

It was … what … yes, it was Penn Cove, and not the Bering Strait … it was still horrifying.

No, I’m not being a fancy lad … well, maybe a little bit … but I still have nightmares, thank you very much.

Back in 1994, when I fled the mussel rafts after multiple months of “learning about life,” the chance to work in a video store — especially a snug lil’ popcorn-scented joint like Videoville — was like gaining entrance to heaven itself.

VHS tapes crammed ceiling to floor, a movie on the TV screen, the smell of “butter” in the air, easy access to Reese’s Pieces … I was never leaving.

And I didn’t, for a very long time.

A year in the small house in which Videoville began, then another 11 in the “new store,” which introduced Cow Town to the concept of paying extra for your coffee thanks to Miriam’s Espresso.

The bigger store wasn’t quite as snug as the house, maybe, and the popcorn machine was replaced with a giant gumball dispenser.

But it also had three TV’s instead of one, so I could play Bugsy Malone and the ’70s version of Gone in 60 Seconds in surround-vision.

And I still got paid to stand around and scarf Reese’s Pieces and tell people they were missing out on the finer things in life if they didn’t accept Bottle Rocket as their true lord and savior.

While staying far, far away from the mussel rafts.

They will rock you.

Miriam Meyer, who was my boss from 1994-2006, was more than a boss.

She was a second mom, and she let me largely run wild, ordering movies that often had no business being on the shelf of a small-town video store.

Suicide Club. Shortbus. Ichi the Killer. Hands on a Hardbody. Doggy Poo.

The last one was a Korean animated short film about a pile of doggy doo-doo seeking inner peace and enlightenment. Seriously.

The first four?  The one that sounds like porn (Hands) was completely not, while Shortbus was … an arthouse … film. Or something like that.

Videoville never had an X-rated section, but we did appeal to the higher-minded nudie lovers who wanted overly complex plots crafted by pretentious artistes.

We used to put little notes on movies sometimes to give customers at least a fighting chance to know they would be renting something likely to offend.

Or to allow me to rant and rave about the quality of small gems that otherwise would be invisible.

Love Serenade, where a weathered disc jockey transforms into a fish and swims away from a small-town love triangle.

Margaret’s Musuem, where a lonely woman collects “bit and pieces” of each dude who dies in the town’s coal mine.

Strictly Ballroom, a passionate ode to big hair and bigger dance moves.

Dead End Drive In, where teens are trapped in a Hellhole of endless junk food and junkier movies and can’t leave … and, wait, how is that a bad thing??

Basically, what I’m saying is my years in the video store biz are bathed in a hazy, golden nostalgia, and the mere smell of Reese’s Pieces makes me weep that one day I had to return to doing actual work.

Having busted my back as a landscaper, farm hand, booze pusher, dishwasher, onion chopper, and on other assorted gigs, writing ain’t that hard.

But it’s not video store life.

So, from time to time, I get caught up in the lure of recapturing the olden days and I amass movies in my duplex.

I’m doing it again, having gone from a couple of DVDs to 600+ and counting in the last week or two, thanks to people doing spring cleaning in a streaming world.

It begins … again.

Yes, it’s a slippery slope.

One day you have just The Abyss and Moulin Rouge, and the next you wake up to find the back bedroom turned into a shrine to my Reese’s-scented days.

My sister and landlord shake their heads, while my youngest nephews, who weren’t around in the video store days, are captivated by this reoccurring burst of mania.

“You should get VHS, too, Uncle David!! Be a real hoarder!!! I mean … history preserver.”

And then they giggle as their mom shoots them an arched eyebrow and they return to looking on Ebay for cheaply priced mystery boxes of movies they can buy me for my upcoming birthday.

I hope…

 

Want to beat them to the punch?

I’m taking in all your tired, your poor, your huddled masses of DVD (not VHS!) yearning to breathe free and have a forever home with a view of Penn Cove.

The address: 165 Sherman, Coupeville, WA, 98239. There’s a porch in front and another in back, just waiting for your drop-offs.

Or find me, or my dark green, dirt splattered Xterra, at a CHS baseball or softball game this spring and take me back to my golden days.

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It begins … again.

Just when I thought I was out … they pull me back in.

Video stores are long gone, and streaming has almost totally replaced the days of VCR’s and DVD players.

With a Roku device being approximately the size of a large eraser, I understand why many people have divested themselves of physical media.

Heck, I did it several years back, when I sold off my own collection.

And yet, the itch is always there.

Holding a DVD case in your hand, marinating in the soft glow it gives off, whether it’s an Oscar Best Picture winner like Rocky or a not-award winner like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze, takes me back.

To 15 years in the small-town video store biz.

To the ever-present smell of popcorn and the streaks of “butter” forever mashed into the carpet.

To the thrill of unrolling new posters and fighting over who got to claim the free movie studio swag, be it a t-shirt from Apollo 13, a bomber jacket from The River Wild, or a Forrest Gump box o’ chocolates.

To playing Bugsy Malone and the original Gone in 60 Seconds and SpongeBob and Riverdance and opera on the in-store TVs until customers lost their minds.

All it takes is one generous person to offer me some free DVDs, and I mentally plan out how I can turn the side room in my duplex into a small-scale recreation of Videoville.

This time, I tell myself, I WON’T spend money on movies, only offer a forever home for movies being given away.

I’ll be strong, but compassionate.

In a world where the Criterion Channel got caught editing “objectionable material” from Oscar Best Picture winner The French Connection — without telling viewers — and in a world where so many movies simply don’t exist on streaming, I’m preserving history.

When the apocalypse hits and the internet goes down forever, if I have DVDs, the movies will live on.

So, I’m doing it for the good of all mankind, is what I’m saying.

Sure, David, sure.

Well either way, I’m doing it.

Going back to my misspent younger years. Preserving movie history.

Relaxing by putting movies in precise alphabetic order (remember, you DON’T COUNT “a, and, or the!!”), and gazing upon the wonder of physical media.

So, want to clear out space in your own abode? I’m here for you.

No VHS – it’s a duplex! But DVD, if it doesn’t cost me money I don’t have, yes.

165 Sherman, Coupeville, WA, 98239 is the address.

It’s the place where the cats will be wandering by outside, shaking their heads and whispering “He’s back at it, boys.”

Now, I just need to see about liberating the chair with the Videoville logo on it that’s part of the bench at Coupeville High School basketball games.

Cause what better way would there be to sit among my movies, pretending like it was still 1997?

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How much do I love this movie? So, so much.

This whole Coupeville Sports gig? Just killin’ time while I wait for the inevitable return of video stores.

I mean, it has to happen, right?

Yes, I’ve been wandering the desert for a decade now, with my 15-year run (1994-2009) in movie nirvana having ended before many of the current CHS freshmen entered kindergarten…

But I have to keep the dream alive.

Some day people will wake up, really look at how few films Netflix and other streaming services really offer, and we shall return to the days of Videoville renting 500 VHS tapes on a Friday night.

Or, some hipster with WAY more disposable income than myself, and a burning desire to toss money into the wind, will come along and say, “Hey, let’s be ironic and open a video rental store.”

And, when that happens, I will be there, waiting, like Silent Bob himself, who yes, I know, I sort of, kind of, look like.

Endless stats and long stretches of sitting on butt-busting school bleachers will fade, and I will be paid to once more yammer on endlessly about some weird-ass foreign film you have no intentions of ever seeing.

Yes, it starts off with dozens of Japanese school children holding hands and jumping in front of a speeding bullet train, and no, it makes no sense at all at any point from there, but … Suicide Club!!

The movie you didn’t want to watch in 2001 and still don’t want to watch in 2020.

Heathens.

Or, I know you’re going to rent Jurassic Park … but first, can I tell you the good word about Bottle Rocket?

Yes, I know 98% of the town of Coupeville hated it.

Sometimes 98% of a town can be wrong.

So there.

But anyways, just because video stores died doesn’t mean I became any less obsessed with films and yammering on about them.

So, for the three people out there who care, pop over to the link below and discover my picks for the 100 best movies to hit during my decade wandering in exile.

These are the films I would have been pestering you to rent between 2010-2019 if someone were still paying me to sit around and watch movies all days.

 

https://letterboxd.com/davidsvien/list/best-of-the-2010s/

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If you can ID all of these movie scenes, you may officially have movie mania.

   If you can ID these eight films (which are all on my Top 1,000), you may officially have movie mania.

Was it a waste of time? Possibly.

The gauntlet was laid down, though, and I had to respond.

Let’s jump back here for a moment and set the scene.

For those who don’t know, I spent 15 years being paid to watch movies as a small town video store manager.

I miss it, every freakin’ day.

Before that, and after that, I have watched a few films.

And by few, I mean I stopped counting at 10,000, and that was a long, loooooong time ago.

I killed many a brave VCR and DVD player in their day and am in a constant battle with Netflix, as its algorithms try (and fail) to pin down my movie tastes.

There are certainly some folks out there who have seen more movies than I have, or who have more film knowledge, or better taste.

Or who at least THINK they have better taste.

But I’ll take my movie mania and put it up against just about anyone and feel like I have at least a shot.

No “could of been” here. I am a contender.

So, last week, when director Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz) announced his picks for his favorite 1,000 films of all time, I was intrigued.

I agreed with a lot, I disagreed with some, and, while I’ve seen most of his picks, there were some gaps for me. Something to work on.

But first, I took the challenge. The implied one, at least.

It wasn’t as if Wright leaned out across the internet and smacked me in the face with a dueling glove. Yet…

But the challenge was there. Could I go through my movie history and pull together my own Top 1,000 list?

Of course I could. I live for such meaningless challenges.

Later, after much mind-numbing work, a lot of knockdown drag-out brawls with myself (I, apparently, can be a pain in the rear at times … who knew?) and a stubborn refusal to let go of The Cat in the Hat (there is no rational defense), I arrived at the finish line.

They’re my favorite 1,000 films (for today at least), if not necessarily the 1,000 greatest films of all time. Everything is subjective.

So, take a moment, pop over and look at my list (it’s alphabetic, not ranked #1-#1,000, cause that would be insane), see how many you’ve seen, marinate in my obsession and then, maybe, go create your own list.

Or go outside and get some fresh air. That works, too.

http://letterboxd.com/davidsvien/list/1000-or-bust/

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