Precious Trash in the Goodwill VHS Bin
The unexpected joy of difficult, problematic movies
Don’t judge me, but I collect VHS. I swear I’m not a hipster. I’m a first-year millennial, and VHS tapes truly are the sacred texts of my people. The holy, acrid smell of seemingly ageless plastic as the cassette slides from its box. The ritual before inserting it into the VCR: Hinge the flap, spool the tape taut with your fingertips, and check the rewind status. Perhaps denominational differences in household pre-watch observances: popcorn and a Coke, read the back of the box, pillow fort.
The nostalgic benefits of VHS extend to content as well. Original trailers, title cards, and production company logos are preserved in static detail for the life of the surprisingly sturdy cassette. But the real reason for my collection is that VHS tapes are time capsules of the truly weird. The du jour, the one-off, and the filmmaker’s aborted shame lie dormant in dusty boxes at garage sales and flea markets. Best of all is my most coveted precious, trash. Trash doesn’t make the DVD migration unless it’s at the filmmaker’s expense. Trash is somewhat akin to cult but with a harder edge, a steeper learning curve, and not a single fuck to give about whether you like it. With trash, like cult, if you know, you know, and if you don’t, you should—at least enough to be able to recognize…