It’s almost 8pm on the first real summer night of the year in Vancouver. Groups of ruinous friends fill the courtyards of Commercial Drive with chatter and roaring laughter.
Chantelle Parsons would rather be indoors, alone in a comfortable place.
He sits quietly in a dark corner of a DVD rental store on Commercial and Grant Street, carefully examining the documentary section. One at a time, he puts a few spikes in the curve of his elbow. When he has his arms full, he crawls shyly toward the box.
“A few more,” he said, shyly sliding three more titles across the board to add to his stack.
Chantelle Parsons celebrates some of her latest Black Dog Video movies on Friday. He said he visited the store often during his childhood in East Vancouver. (Gian Paolo Mendoza / CBC)
It was the penultimate business day of Black Dog Video after more than 25 years. Overwhelmed by a steady decline in customers and a sharp rise in operating costs over the past decade, the store closed permanently on Saturday, leaving only one surviving DVD rental store in town.
As the store prepared to close, it sold the 16,000 films in its inventory: from new releases, classics, dramas, comedies, cartoons, documentaries, adult films and science fiction. On the first day of the sale, film collectors and regulars from all over the Lower Mainland and Vancouver Island lined up around the block.
The classics of filmmakers like Billy Wilder were first, as well as foreign films like the Frenchman François Truffaut and the Belgian Agnès Varda. A 1949 special edition Blu-Ray copy of The Third Man sold for $ 175.
Last Friday night, most were regulars returning. Some had handwritten wish lists and cardboard boxes to fill. Others just wanted to be there.
“I’m a little sad … I’ve been coming here for a long time,” said Rosemary Mah, who regularly came to the store from her South Granville apartment.
The almost empty shelves are seen Black Dog Video on Friday, the day before it closed its doors for good. (Gian Paolo Mendoza / CBC)
The feeling was shared by Jeff Shantz, who traveled an hour to the store by bus and SkyTrain from Surrey.
“I guess I’m going to miss a little bit of everything,” said Shantz, who teaches criminology at Kwantlen Polytechnic University.
“When you run into people who are interested in the same movies and you get a chance to talk about them … it’s different,” he said.
Customers agreed that the store offered a community site that does not exist via streaming. You could ask a human what to look for instead of scrolling through the “recommended” tab. When you come back, you could discuss what made a movie good or bad with people you cared about.
Store owner Darren Gay is behind the counter at the box office on Friday. (Gian Paolo Mendoza / CBC)
Owner Darren Gay said the writing had been on the wall since streaming giants like Netflix were released. He thought the pandemic could boost the business, with cinemas closed, but he did the opposite: people stayed home more than ever and did not return once the restrictions were lifted.
“It’s the way we live in the world right now,” Gay said, letting out a deep sigh at the mention of streaming. “I’ve made a lot of good friends with clients and staff over the years. I’ll miss seeing them all … but it’s time.”
Shortly before the end of Friday night, Gay left his colleague to close the store and escaped through the back door to walk “two minutes” home. He carried a copy of Donnie Darko for his son and Contamination for him, adding to the 100 titles he had already taken for himself.
Jeff Shantz said one of his favorite things about Black Dog Video was his selection of often hard-to-find documentaries. (Gian Paolo Mendoza / CBC)
“Fifteen minutes to close!” Greek videographer Josie Boyce announced from behind the desk to customers staying in the hallways.
“I feel 16?” a man shouted the voice of a simulated auctioneer, making everyone inside laugh.
Parsons headed to the front door with two dozen DVDs, most of them “embarrassing” documentaries, in a blue canvas bag. The store’s 70s playlist had stopped, leaving only the hum of the ceiling fan and the creaking of the floorboards to drown out the noise outside.
When asked what she would miss about the store she grew up visiting, Parsons’s tears burst so suddenly that they seemed to surprise even her.
“I’m very introverted … It was just your last contact with people who are having a genuine conversation,” said Parsons, a library worker who now lives in Coquitlam.
“It’s one of those last places where you can come and be just one person.”
Take a virtual tour of the Black Dog Video as it was in 2019