Like A Kid in a Video Store

Letterboxd's gift that keeps on giving.

A young man looking toward the sky, mouth open and pained, drenched in the spit of other boys.
What it feels like to pay for streaming services these days!
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Editor's Note: The following article was written in December. Before Paramount Skydance entered the bidding war. Same shit, different streamer, really.

Does anybody like streaming services anymore? After all, no one likes paying twenty bucks a month to be given ads for shows they've already been bombarded with on social media (dishonorable mention to those pre-roll 'trailers' on my 'ad-free' HBO or Prime Subscription). Not one soul likes having whole shows gutted from their subscription because yet another studio decided to enter the streaming market, adding another twenty dollars to your monthly budget of movies. And absolutely no one, and I mean no one likes their favourite shows, popular ones at that, being cancelled because a Netflix exec's numerology report told them three was an unlucky number.

No, we don't like streaming services, we put up with them. Like a young Jack Bolton (Andrew Harpending) in Todd Hayne's anthology film Poison (1991), we'll let larger boys spit on us; jeer at us for even giving them money. For the sake of convenience, for the fact we have no where else to turn to (at least when sailing the high seas is not an option). The world has been exhausting as of late, and frankly, we all just want to hit play and experience someone else's life for a while.

And, no, I was not excited to learn that Netflix swallowed Warner Brothers for the low, low price of $83 billion USD. One less streaming service to worry about? Sure, but David Zaslav giving Ted Sarandos the keys to the WB Kingdom is the film equivalent of Hitler forming the Pact of Steel with Mussolini (or Netanyahu nominating Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize, if we want to stay current).

All I can say is that hell awaits the film buff. I can picture it now: Sinners will get a five season spin-off of Stack and Mary kickin' it in the 90's (without Coogler's involvement of course), Peacemaker's already well past its used by date of a second season and will get axed, And Dune: Part 3 will get the Knives Out treatment: Villeneuve will get his swan song and his flowers, but he'll have to pull it off with a neutered TV budget.

However, there's one company, a social media platform of all things, that is trying to give us viewers a Christmas Miracle. While hell is creeping toward cinema's front doorstep, wiping its coal dusted hooves on the welcome mat, Letterboxd swoops in like our Guardian Angel.

And what, pray tell, will be our salvation?: monthly curated movie rentals.

Why "Own" When You Can Rent?

Now, now, I hear what your saying. How is this any different than renting from Apple TV or the YouTube? Well that makes sense. In Australia, prices are about the same as any of the releases from distributors on digital storefronts. For a 48 hour rental, new releases are about $25 AUD, while older restorations and releases are about $8 AUD. And as a far as I can tell from having to link my Letterboxd to Vimeo, I'm assuming it's just using Vimeo's own rental platform for its releases. If it was offering every film available elsewhere, I think most people, myself included, wouldn't even bother.

But Video Store isn't interested in giving you everything, and not even what an algorithm thinks "you" want. Instead, as the announcement post protests: "These [picks] are built from what our members are actually hunting down."

A monthly rotation of hard to find films or community darlings sounds awesome doesn't it? Letterboxd is the social media platform for the budding critic, film programmer, or that couple that watched Cat in the Hat (2003) every week for a year. Whoever you are on this wonderful review site us film people call home, every watch-list becomes a potential program, every review becomes didactic text, and every user, regardless of interest level or genre, becomes a curator.

And having already watched three films from the "Lost and Found" section (back-to-back mind you), They've already hit the ground running. Banger after banger, and even when its not to taste, every film on there will at least spark you to write something meaningful. From pump action Honk Kong comedies that blast you in the face with how 80's they are, to dramas that keep you trapped in their tension, it has that perfect amount of variety so that it doesn't feel like a film bro's Four Favourites (although a "he's like me fr" collection would go hard).

To be fair, it is still an expense that some might not be willing to fork up. And considering the way in which streaming services have conditioned us to have a whole library for the price of just one of these films a month, it does make one hesitant to spend that much on a film they may not even like.

Then again, those once massive libraries are shrinking by the day. Netflix's original launch priced the Premium Plan at $14.99 AUD. It is now $28 (as of 2025). And for the "inflation" apologists in the back row, Using the RBA's own Inflation Calculator, that's $10 whole dollars more than the expected price. $10 for what exactly? $10 for less content? $10 for shows and films the company would rather we have on as background noise than actually watch? $10 to axe new shows we were becoming fans of, only to favour shows that should have been put down long ago (including 80's nostalgia).

Letterboxd may not let you own a Video Store film and they may not stay around on store shelves for long, but hey, at least you get what you pay for: a film for rent.

I hate to be yet another film guy drumming up the Matt Damon 'Hot One's Speech' again, but by renting the titles through a reputable site like Vimeo, the films actually get sales instead of streams. Money goes to filmmakers, keeps Letterboxd's new venture profitable enough to stay afloat, and hopefully, supports the clerks keeping Video Store's shelves stocked with new, old and wacky selections from the depth's of users' nichest lists.

Naturally, It's not perfect – I will always prefer owning something physical (or getting a high quality file that isn't compressed by the limitations of streaming something over the internet) – but if renting a film on Letterboxd means I get access to films I've always wanted to see, that I know will be curated by users or vetted by the staff, and that my money goes to support the filmmakers themselves and the film community. Then it's probably the one time I don't mind voting with my wallet.