Reopen video rental shops!
The cliché of 'everything was better in the old days' is the favourite saying of every generation 'Ü'. But is it true? If we remember our youth - whether it was 60, 50, 40 or 30 years ago - one decade in particular stands out: the one after the oil crisis, when demonstrating against disarmament and whales finally bore fruit. Or did anyone think that the smiling sun on the plastic stickers with 'Atomic power - no thanks' could have been remotely indicative of the alternative use of solar energy?
Back then, there was a petrol station on every street corner, the fuel prices were painted on the walls of the houses with lead paint - sustainability in a different way. Oh no, the word didn't even exist back then. Just as little as gluten, vegan or things like 'political correctness' or other paradoximoronic Anglicisms.
And next to every petrol station, the meeting place for people who couldn't afford to go to the pub to watch a beer at the Bundesliga match on the 60cm tube TV: the video store. The Bundesliga no longer exists, only on Sky, which used to be called Teleclub and helped Roger Willemsen to fame; televisions no longer exist and neither do video stores, they have disappeared from the cityscape just like petrol stations.
The world can't get any better if all good things are replaced with digital stopgap solutions. There are DVDs that look just like CDs, except that they can hold more data - someone explain to me how that isn't complete nonsense. Instead of Super-Ingo in the Manta, there is now e-mobility. But there are no more petrol stations for it than there are charging stations for video enthusiasts.
In order to save themselves and their existence, the video store owners first began to lend out not only the VHS treasures hidden in lovingly designed plastic cases, but also obvious video evening accompanying material, such as snacks and soft drinks, which could be rented at a lower price over the weekend, then, with the first DVDs, they also started to offer the players, which for a long time were not available for purchase due to the industry's failings.
Of course, no one wants to lug an oversized rolled-up magnetic tape back and forth in a 15 kg cassette these days, or even a silver-steamed disc; streaming is the magic word.
The anonymity of the 80s made it possible to register as a member at the video store under the name of an actor and rent films by the namesake Chuck Norris with a value of 600 DM at a daily rate of 2.50 DM. Someone must have done the math and realised that this was just as disproportionate as 4.7 GB on a 12 cm plastic disc with a 3.5 cm data track. The development continued and the distributors, who were affiliated to the film studios and had to acquire licences, pushed for earlier and earlier release dates in order to earn anything at all. Whereas in the days of Beverly Hills Cop it was still a year from the cinema release to the first day in the video store and two more until the first German TV broadcast, today the starting shot of the first streaming services begins 6 hours after the advance booking offices open for the cinema premiere.
This fast pace could soon be a thing of the past if we go back to the relaxed time when browsing the shelves meant meeting people you instantly felt a connection with: sweatpants, trainers and mullets for men, vinyl skirts, pink pumps and perms for women.