SFF 2023 REVIEW: Kim's Video — “A lot of things used to be here, and now they are not”
Redmon and Sabin masterfully balance gravity and levity in what might be the funniest documentary I have ever seen.
Image: Kim’s Video (courtesy of Sydney Film Festival).
Kim’s Video is an unashamedly obsessive love letter to the dematerialisation of cinema. Narrated by David Redmon — Letterboxd incarnate — this documentary is essentially an extended video essay in which Redmon professes his love for physical media.
Housed in New York’s East Village, Kim’s Video and Music was a video and music rental store that operated from 1987 until its closure in 2008. Selling not only popular movies but also bootleg copies of movies, unreleased international films, and films that existed only in the form of video cassettes, Kim’s Video grew to cult classic levels of fame. Upon closing, proprietor Mr Kim had 55,000 movies in his video collection, all of which were packaged up and sent to Salemi, a small town in the South-West of Sicily, where they very quickly disappeared.
Redmon and Sabin masterfully balance gravity and levity in what might be the funniest documentary I have ever seen. Interspersing clips of classic films and grainy footage from the 80s and 90s amongst shots of Redmon’s journey to Salemi, Kim’s Video is a pastiche dedicated to the eternality of film. Redmon’s interactions with Salemi’s Mayor and Chief of Police are downright farcical and feel as though they have been lifted from a Shakespearean comedy. The colourful characters that Redmon encounters on his journey make the documentary so incredibly watchable and make it feel so unreal. Nothing ever appears to go as planned and each turn of events feels so unexpected. The serendipitous nature of Redmon’s journey makes the documentary all the more engaging and charming.
As a narrator, Redmon entirely lacks self-awareness and is incessant in his quest for answers. He goes from pestering pedestrians in the boroughs of New York, all the way to irritating Italian politicians as they battle allegations of mafia ties. But this documentary could not have been made without Redmon’s unwavering dedication to finding the video collection and returning it to its rightful home, even if that goal comes at the cost of badgering every single person he encounters. His persistence is at times admirable, it is hard to imagine going to the lengths he does for a defunct video store.
His style feels at times amateur, something that has warranted critique online, but I find that his naivety is endearing and imbues the project with so much passion. The unpolished feel contributes to its nostalgic qualities and asserts itself as a true tribute to cinema. Kim’s Video is not merely a documentary following the search for a missing video collection, but it is instead a celebration of film and the communities that it cultivates.
There’s certainly a lot more that could be said about Kim’s Video, but I’d hate to give away some of its best moments. The journey itself feels like a fever dream that’s best enjoyed with a box of popcorn and a group of friends. I can’t recommend it enough, please go and see it while you can. The whole viewing experience was just so fun! There’s really no other way to put it.