Videola

What would have been irritatingly derivative while Lynch was alive feels very welcome now that he is gone. Even the constant use of a whimsical Twin Peaks-like score that shrilly screams “coffee and pie” didn’t piss me off anymore. After establishing the dark undercurrent beneath the peaceful veneer, in this case, potential drug money laundering at a mom-and-pop video store, the Bennetts follow the Lynch playbook, building something conceptually complex with extremely simplified exclamations from characters. These act as signposts, pointing viewers toward the weird s**t that will soon hit them in the face.

Quirky characters abound throughout Videola. However, some of them could have used more distinction, as a few actresses are easy to confuse with one another due to similar styling. The pacing is plodding at times, but only because this was supposed to be only a chapter of the big story, not the whole thing. There is also a question whether the eventual ambiguity is intentionally Lynchian or just the result of never having a chance to tie up the loose ends set up at the beginning of a never-completed series.

“…displays a heavy Lynchian influence, which takes on a new light after that master’s passing.”

As Videola is a decade old now, it serves well as an odd time capsule for what was a pivotal time in the new century, technology-wise. I know a lot of viewers find video stores very nostalgic; they even turned the last one where I live into a bar, so people can get sentimental amongst the stacks while getting sauced. The Bennetts also perfectly capture the gold rush on app development, where everyone was looking to get rich through adding bells and whistles to dating apps. There is also a fair amount of heroin, which was very big then in the tri-state area, due to the harder regulations on prescription painkillers. All of these ingredients can still be enjoyed on their own, even if the overall movie doesn’t wow too much. Because the Bennetts never got to make the next chapters, there is no room for any development and no chance for a satisfactory conclusion. It is sort of like a burnt Christmas tree that still has great ornaments on its blackened branches.

There is this perfect moment near the end that holds on Sean Young for a very long time, until a single tear falls down her face. That scene has the same stupendous touch you would expect to see from something by Nicolas Winding Refn. It is also a reminder of why Young is an icon whose majesty onscreen is unrivaled. Her fans should catch Videola, as it is worth their time, as well as Lynch fans and those curious about the retro premise.