There’s something inherently nostalgic about VHS tapes. I
remember growing up right when the big transition from VHS to DVD was taking
place, and I have a lot of fond memories of trawling through the family’s
excessive collection (we had numbered crates full of tapes, along with a
written register for what was in which crate) to find something I could occupy
my time with. And with this latest film from Jack Henry (son of Tim) Robbins,
the nostalgia glands are lovingly milked to make an exceptionally bug-fuck
offering.
