Honey, They Shrunk the Film Supply

Note: This is one of occasional first-person columns I'd put together to run in the Features/Entertainment part of the paper. It was a fun way to do a different kind of writing.

By Corey Lyons
Feb. 1, 2002

BLOCKBUSTER VIDEO has increasingly taken on the look and feel of a toy store.

The only thing missing is Giggles the Clown, who could greet visitors at the door with a 24-inch Kit Kat bar and a previously viewed copy of "Free Willy" for $5.99.

I loathe Blockbuster. Everything about it. Its size. Its shameless, monopolistic corporate strategy. Its limited selection of movies, especially independent titles.

I've even grown to loathe the blue-and-tan uniforms worn by employees, which, apparently, is the proven color combination for corporate success in America.

But I don't want to sound bitter. I simply expect more from a global empire with a $5 billion bankroll.

Candy, not movies
The Dallas-based video behemoth is taking over the world with blue-and-gold fun houses that provide more king-sized candy bars than documentaries.

Seriously. You can find a giant Snickers bar or an endless lineup of video games for Xbox and GameCube, but you can hardly find an art-house film that generated some buzz.

Of course, lesser-known titles like "Bully" or "With a Friend Like Harry" may require five rentals before a profit is turned.

In any case, the thrust of my recent anti-Blockbuster campaign began during the holiday season.

A friend had given me a $25 gift certificate to the world's No. 1 video retailer, from which I had disassociated myself years ago, vowing never to return. But the card was free. Years had passed. So I decided to use it.

Recently, I walked into a local Blockbuster, shielding my eyes under the intense glow of overhead lights.

I had showed up to look for one of a handful of critically acclaimed films that never made it to local theaters as well as a documentary for my wife.

I circled the store three times, temporarily losing my way in the Nintendo maze. Finally, I approached a befuddled clerk to ask whether they had carried documentaries.

She looked at me as if I had asked her to explain the premise of "Lost Highway."

Then, she whispered, "We don't really have that many documentaries."

Translation: Good luck in your future travels.

Wow. Can you believe that? The world's No. 1 video retailer does not do documentaries.

I guess that explains why there were approximately 862 copies of "Pearl Harbor" crowding a far wall.

Market penetration
Now, I've never been confused with John Nash Jr. But simple mathematics helps explain why Blockbuster dominates the video rental industry.

According to a recent study that I just made up, there are approximately 1.2 Blockbusters for every person living in the United States.

And for most people, that's a good enough reason to sign aboard and make every night a "Blockbuster night."

Consider the company's written mission: "To be the global leader in rentable home entertainment, by providing outstanding service" -- Would you like a $6 box of Goobers with that rental, friend? -- "selection, convenience and value."

OK. They do provide convenience. Because there is probably a store 16 feet from where you're sitting right now.

But while the company continues to expand like Will Smith's ego, its selection of films appears to have shrunk.

In the late 1990s, the company negotiated with the major studios a revenue-sharing plan that allowed it to stock its shelves with more titles of the same movie per store.

This concept may explain why it's easy to find 250 copies of "Legally Blonde" and impossible to find a documentary about, say, ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics.

Which is why I rent from a local mom-and-pop and Hollywood Video, which has a wider selection of cult classics and independents. And Blockbuster is two blocks from my front door.

But I don't want to sound bitter.