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'Video Dreams: A VHS Massacre Story' | Thomas Seymour
Dear Moviegoers,
Are there too many documentaries about video stores? Too many tales of inspiration derived from shelves of VHS box covers? A glut of filmmakers learning their craft from watching endless marathons of tapes upon tapes?
Yes, but they rarely get tiring.
At least, not for VHS obsessives like me.
It's lovely to see how art inspires art, no matter the quality of the content from end to end, but how far does influence go? Thomas Seymour, the director of the VHS Massacre documentary series, busts open his experiences through a treasure trove of do-it-yourself creation in his latest, Video Dreams. Seymour doesn't mince words or hold anything back here, showcasing archives of behind-the-scenes footage from previous projects and never sugar-coating any negative feelings or observations.
More than his previous peeks into the video store's past, present, and potential future, Video Dreams asks and answers his own questions on inspired failures, hopes for success, and ultimate mind over matter efforts. It's an anxious essay, one of open wounds and long-term dreaming.
Cute and daring as it is, Video Dreams doesn't come wrapped in perfection. In what I presume is its final edit, the movie runs through with crackles and pops in its sound mixing, scattered use of title cards, and haphazard voice-over narrations that jump around like falling beans. On a technical level, there's much to be confused by and to chuckle at. So unfortunate, but so true.
However, much like the mixed and surreal structures of our own dreams, I can look at Thomas Seymour's film through the same veil that he looks at his own career; a series of acceptable failures and happy triumphs. While likely not planned, these overlooked issues in editing do speak for themselves and for Seymour's way of telling his own story. Meta? Not on purpose. Striking? All the same.
Passionate and proud, Video Dreams shines a light on its director in varying levels of vulnerability, something for which this critic finds absolutely brave. Flawed? I'm not sure that such a thing can be said for entries in cinema, even for the most expert of reviewers. It is rough around the traditional filmmaking edges, though, and while frustrating, purpose can be seen. Love can be felt.
And, in the end, isn't that what we need?
Excuse me as I cry. 3/5
Video Dreams screens and streams as part of the 2026 SF IndieFest, from 2/5 to 2/15.