The crème of UK independent talent comes together with this anthology throwback to the glory (and gory) days of VHS rentals and low-budget thrills.
The wraparound story takes place at Video Dungeon, a remote relic of the eighties, where Clara (Hannah Paterson) has arrived to work off her late fees with the Proprietor (Martin W. Payne, unrecognisable under layers of old-age makeup and with his pants on). As they await a personal appearance from cult movie star Paula Valentine (the gloriously pneumatic Dani Thompson, who also hosts proceedings Elvira-style and appears in all but one story), we’re treated to various movies from the shelves of the store.
The first tale, MJ Dixon’s Egghead, is pure schlock, focusing on a rivalry between two plastic surgeons that culminates with one being permanently deformed. Naturally, Eggbert is back for revenge. It’s rough and ready and thus sets the tone perfectly. Sam Mason Bell’s The Red Lipped Moon is a noir-esque entry in which a drug-addled detective investigates a murder. There’s some nun fun in Andrew Elias’ Fleurs du Mal in which a man envisages video tape back in 1894. Alexander Churchyard and Max Davenport’s Mary Whitehouse, You’re a Cunt, which parodies The Evil Dead while putting the late moral guardian and enemy of video fans front and centre. A sleazy film producer who’s definitely not based on a real person (ahem) and a dejected director are the subjects of Tom Lee Rutter’s These Burnt Children, which is more on-the-nose in places than it has any right to be. Closing things is Vergessen, Michael Fausti’s homage to Nazisploitation, with three female operatives attempting to get secrets from German soldiers. It’s reminiscent of the film within a film in Der Todesking and is handled more seriously than the other stories.
Interspersed throughout are some spot-on spoof trailers that depict the type of fare we could expect in the golden age of video stores, including a wince-inducing but spot-on one from Tony Mardon, Don’t Sit on His Face and the adventures of a saucy video repairman. Laurence R. Harvey is hilarious as a pretentious thespian whose biggest role was Chode the Toad.
This won’t be for you if you have a low tolerance for indie, no-budget filmmaking. If, however, you’re open to the absurd, you can do worse than grab a hot dog and purchase your membership for this store.
VIDEO SHOP TALES OF TERROR is available on digital platforms and the last few limited edition Blu-ray copies can be bought here.
