Club VHS: the return of the videotheek
As the popular consensus has flipped on vinyls, the question becomes what other physical media is now ripe for revival? Cassettes, DVDs, VHS tapes, Walkmans, CD players, all offer potential for nostalgic novelty, hipster clout, and a symbolic rejection of the technology hype which threatens to overwhelm us (and unleash chaos on our already struggling climate). The never-ending flow of ‘upgraded’ technology promises us a permanent digital revolution to change our lives for the better, a promise which lasts a month or so until the next gadget comes along to take its place.
The return to physical media is, in many ways, a rejection of this bubble that ensures us our lives will be better and happier, the more convenient and consumerist they are. Streaming services like Netflix, as its latest proposed acquisition of Warner Bros confirms, balloon in size and double in price, promising ‘limitless options’, yet robbing us of an alternative, more communal film-watching and film-choosing experience. Taking your time to browse, pulling out DVD cases to examine the back cover, discovering new titles by their proximity to another film you love, being able to consult with a real-life, verified human being on your choices, is an experience which has been deemed unnecessary and undesirable by the mighty powers that be (corporate bosses lining their pockets).
In this era of growing techno-pessimism, people are increasingly choosing to spend their time and money in their local community, deciding to steer clear of the growing international monopolies. This environment has paved the way for a resurgence of the videotheek, a revival of both the habit of renting your films in physical format every week, as well as the habitat it offers movie lovers from all walks of life.
The clientele of Club VHS reflects the wide range of people opting to ride this physical media wave. Wandering into the Brugwachter on any given Friday or Saturday are families choosing their movies of the weekend together, eliminating endless arguments over scrolling on streaming services; couples hunting for a date-night pick; hard-core collectors scouring the shelves to find the one title they haven’t yet seen; fifteen-year-olds who marvel at how cool and retro DVDs are; film students seeking the niche and bizarre.
Club VHS’s collection is cobbled together from the very community it serves. The video store’s shelves are home to over 1,000 titles, ranging from Hollywood blockbusters, to indie darlings, to forgotten titles ripe for cult reclamation. These DVDs have been rescued from basements, previously abandoned in boxes, and faithfully delivered to the videotheek to once again be seen by human eyes. Many are castaways, donated to Kringloops, and then found while raking through dusty stacks for a rare pearl. Some have been donated by avid physical media collectors, offering up their doubles, discards and sometimes an especially rare DVD they gift the videotheek, a symbol of dedication and solidarity in the fight for a world with video rental stores in it. One gentleman even drove from Utrecht on his Friday night with a box full of blue-rays, braving the awful weather to deliver his gifts in person for the people of Amsterdam to discover. The videotheek also has a wishlist of rarer titles, generally bought and donated by people who can’t visit in person, but want their favourite film to be seen and loved by strangers, championing the cause from all over the world.
Video rental stores stand as a key hub in the circulation of films excluded entirely from streaming platforms without theatrical circulation, films which become neglected, forgotten, and increasingly difficult to find even for those of us with particularly advanced pirating skills. These films are brought back into the wider flow of media, allowing films to literally pass from hand to hand, bringing them back to life with every new watcher. Many of Club VHS’s supporters are people who may never watch a film on DVD or Video, but who love what the videotheek symbolises, as a physical space of community and exchange.
Amsterdam is no stranger to the videotheek historically, and although Club VHS lays claim to the title of the only current video store in the city, it follows in the footsteps of an array of predecessors. Visitors to the videotheek often bring us news of these giants past, reminiscing on the golden days of a 24-hour video store, popular after heavy nights of drinking for a trip to browse the aisles of adult-friendly movies. The Cult Video store, one man claims, attracted Quentin Tarantino to relocate to Amsterdam, borrow a huge collection of rare cult classics, fail to return them, and escape back to Hollywood with this bounty. Lucky Star videotheek, voted the best video store in Amsterdam in 2013, having run for 35 years, had to close in 2015. This left Cinemagic in Ferdinand Bol as the last video store left standing in Amsterdam, shelves full of the best (and worst) of international cinema, complete with a resident cat. Cinemagic finally closed its doors in 2016, leaving Amsterdam bereft of videotheeks for almost a decade, until the 2025 opening of Club VHS.
Quentin Tarantino borrowed a huge collection of rare cult classics, fail to return them, and escaped back to Hollywood with this bounty
Initiatives like Club VHS are popping up all over the world, and some videostores - like the Videothèque in LA and 20th Century Flicks in Bristol - have persisted through the rapidly changing landscape of digital media. Skin Deep in Birmingham is a video collective set up to revive the communal aspect of visiting a DVD library while refusing to cast aside technology labelled as ‘outdated’.
So, if you feel like taking a trip down memory lane, or giving a big ‘Fuck you’ to the growing monopoly of streaming platforms, join the burgeoning movement of people staying faithful to physical media.
Club VHS website