Despite growing up in Florida, I became very aware of Kim’s Video store through my obsession with cinema. Alex Ross Perry spoke about it on one or more of his Blank Check Podcast appearances – and he gets his moment in this documentary as well. The legendary video store that had tons of bootlegs and hard-to-finds is spoken of fondly and reverently by cinephiles. While this documentary gives some insight into the video store and its enigmatic owner Yongman Kim’s legacy, it is truly about director David Redmon’s (co-directed with Ashley Sabin) obsession with the collection.
Redmon takes on the task of hunting down the legendary collection that Mr. Kim donated to a small village of Salemi, Sicily. The small Italian village took on the archive in the hope of revitalizing tourism…but by the time Redmon decides to take on this quest, it seems the collection has essentially vanished. In some very unclear moments, Redmon is driven by the movies to find this collection.
There are surprisingly intimate elements of the documentary. Again, on the surface, this documentary sounds like it’ll be a by-the-numbers profile of this iconic video store: a movie for cinephiles made by cinephiles. At its core, it is indeed that, but there is something far more cinematic about it. Redmon appears to be very open about what may be a psychotic break, as his obsession leads to some concerning behaviors and decisions. The viewer is left wondering if those are simply creative affectations, or concerning insights into the depths of Redmon’s obsession. As he is a film fan and filmmaker, it feels like many of the more extreme moments may be cinematic conceits. However, the film never confirms what the case is with many of those moments.
As far as a historical documentary, there is a lot of information here. Those uninitiated with Kim’s Video will walk away with a decent understanding of the store, how it came into existence, and its inevitable demise. The usual documentary elements of interviews, archival footage, and talking heads are all present and well executed. However, that’s not really what the film is here to do.
Fans of documentaries like Three Identical Strangers, Tickled, or My Old School will appreciate the many twists and turns that Kim’s Video has to offer. The narrative shift from a historical doc to a Don Quixote-style quest isn’t the only change the film will present. Redmon uncovers things that may be significant, or just odd coincidences. Nonetheless, his journey into reclaiming this famed collection is a compelling (and equally weird) one.
Those obsessed with physical media and the preservation of the art so many heralds as the most important will be held with rapt attention as Redmon seeks to regain this extensive library of cinematic history. As more and more streaming services shuffle their digital libraries, merge, and studio gatekeepers make mind-boggling decisions about who can see what movies, we see an uptick in people caring about access to media. Kim’s library of films and how they went from being extremely available to almost gone in an instant resonates. It almost justifies the depths to which Redmon is willing to go to get answers.
Kim’s Video stands as unique a documentary, as it was a video rental store. The film goes places one probably wouldn’t expect, and manages to provide answers to most of the questions. It’s also an interesting case study on the impact that movies can have on us as fans and artists. The pictures speak to us in a multitude of ways, and some of us hear them…perhaps too deeply.
Kim’s Video opens theatrically in NYC and LA on April 5th.
Rating: Not Quite Golden, Ponyboy.
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