My ‘90s Blockbuster journey: a tale of teen love and white lies
The Last Blockbuster documentary has landed at Netflix and it may be the last breath of nostalgia that Gen X breathes in homage to their pre-internet 1990s upbringing. Here’s mine. Likely unique, definitely authentic.
There were two mindsets you walked into Blockbuster with. You’re going on your own and can get whatever you want (the best), or you’re going on behalf of people you’re gonna watch the movie with. In the latter case, you likely had a mental list of movies to rent, in priority order.
What to get
Your movie companion might dispense as such:
“Get LA Confidential. If they don’t have it, get Metro and my Mom still hasn’t seen Good Will Hunting and I can’t keep explaining the ‘how do you like dem apples’ scene to her so get that too. Actually, have you seen Chasing Amy yet? No?! Dude, okay, wow…”
You were basically held to the honor code though. The inventory was in-store only, there was no way to check online. There was no ‘online.’ You could call and maybe get someone nice on the phone who could give you a definitive answer, a la “yes we have seven copies of Twister” or someone curt a la “we might have Titanic back there I dunno we busy” and then you either got hung up on or nicely asked them to go check cause otherwise you’re just not going. As if they cared about one less movie rental on a Friday night.
My Blockbuster route, my girlfriend’s wishes
As my hero image suggests, I had a pretty cool pit stop on the way to and from my girlfriend’s house. For the most part, we had similar taste in movies. In the beginning, she rarely had a “I gotta see _______” moment, so my suggestions were taken in stride. Over time, things changed. The more popular Blockbuster got, the more it became the nexus of cool culture. Renting certain titles earned you status. I have no idea what specific day they came out on, but if I had to bet it was Friday nights. And she had friends who’d influence her decisions. I could sense it in her voice on the phone. When she asked me to get The English Patient, a not-tour de force clocking 2 hours, 42 minutes on the movie radar gun, I had to draw a line in the sand. A whole set of emotions shook me on the drive to Blockbuster. That’s the whole night right there, no time to make out, I guess we could during it but it’s a whole thing if we’ve gotta rewind and then we’re looking at THREE HOURS are you kidding me?
And thus began the great white lie. I remember running lines in the store like I was rehearsing for a boyfriend audition. I’d picture myself walking in to her house all sullen that they didn’t have her movie but simultaneously happy to see her.
“Hey you! So… they didn’t have The English Patient. I’m SO sorry. Look, I know it’s not the same but I got Face Off.”
But in the aisle, my mental pendulum keeps swinging. “Wait, Face Off is an entirely separate genre. Too risky. What’s The Apartment? Looks like romancey but the girl’s super hot. Okay, this and Face Off. I give her options, girls love options!”
And so it went. And if you got away with the lie, well, you’d simmer your victory the whole night. But if you were on the other side, where someone brought movies to your place, well… everyone became a suspect.
Parents and family accounts
Let me cover this base quick. Initially there were only family accounts, which meant that one family, categorized by address and credit card, could rent up to three movies at a time. Then it became five movies. Then I really don’t know what happened but suddenly it was a non issue. Bogus while it lasted, for sure.
Late fees
This was the ticking clock that really put you on a timeline. 48 hours? 24 hours? Geezus I mean, I guess we could watch the second one tomorrow morning, rewind it (maybe) and return it before we go to church? There were drop-off boxes in most locations so you could get away with “I put it there at the 48th hour!” and then hope you didn’t get dinged.
And this is where I fade out. When I went to college in fall of 1998, my girlfriend and I broke up. Fine. I was going to be five hours away with tons of new chicks anyway. Late into my spring semester, my mom calls:
“We owe hundreds of dollars in late fees to Blockbuster! Where is The Truman Show!?”
I remember leaving it for my girlfriend’s parents. The honor code had been passed onto them. Please return it when you’re done. They didn’t.
There was no way I was gonna call her. I think the bill was actually $147.92 or some crazy number. Like a thousand dollars today after inflation. It’s so long ago, I truly don’t know what happened. I know at some point in the early 2000s, Blockbuster had done away with late fees, but it was too late. A little company called Netflix was ramping up. I’m grateful for the advances in technology that now allow me to watch whatever, whenever, but… also grateful to have perspective. Kind of how I look at the 1990s overall.
Thank you for reading.
About me: I’m a screenwriter who needs an outlet for writer’s block, hence I occasionally write things other than screenplays. This should go without saying but, I’m not currently managed or repped. Read more about my projects here.
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-Joe Espo
