Along with sound and colour, the recordable magnetic tape has to be one of the most important technological advances in the history of cinema. It allowed the elitist conceits behind film fandom to become populist, even pedestrian. Beyond all the ‘everyone’s a critic’ caterwauling, VHS also made for a more communal experience when it came to creativity. It broadened the horizons of many who only knew what their local cineplex spoon-fed them. And one of the best examples of its lasting impact exists in Michel Gondry’s brilliant little allegory Be Kind Rewind.

With the city of Passaic, New Jersey, threatening to condemn his tiny video rental store, old Mr Fletcher (Danny Glover) must take some drastic steps. While off on a fact-finding trip to a major chain outlet, he leaves trusted employee Mike (Mos Def) in charge. He has only one mandate – keep the slightly crazy local mechanic Jerry (Jack Black) out of the store. Seems the crackpot conspiracy theorist has a tendency to drive away the clientele. One day, after a botched break-in at the power plant that Jerry believes is brainwashing him, Mike discovers that all the tapes in the shop have been erased – and it is all magnetized Jerry’s fault.

The meddling Ms Falewicz (Mia Farrow) reports back to Fletcher every day and Mike and Jerry need to do something to keep the business afloat. With Jerry as his star, and a dry-cleaning clerk named Alma (Melonie Diaz) as his assistant, Mike decides to reshoot all the missing films, quick and dirty. Oddly enough, their homemade versions are a huge hit.

Be Kind Rewind is a raucous humoresque that balances its hilarious remake material with a heartfelt story among the characters. It is also the biggest, most masterful love letter to the VCR and the resulting accessibility of cinema ever created. It’s a celebration of Mom and Pop shops. And it’s a genius dissection of the post-post-modern movement in film, from the established legends (video store clerk as maverick moviemaker? Hmmm…) to the current clichés (a tech savvy screwball who believes he innately understands the medium).

From the opening sequences showing a Fats Waller biopic in progress, to a last act nod to Cinema Paradiso’s communal embrace, there is much more going on here than amateur re-creations of recognizable films. But it’s what Gondry isn’t giving us that is most important. Few probably realize that Jerry and Mike never use a script when making their verbatim ‘swedes’ (the movie’s term for the short-form copies). Indeed, the subtext suggests that home video has made certain titles second nature to the obsessive. Even better, the issue of copyright is skewered when Sigourney Weaver, in a surprise cameo, turns up as a legalese-spouting suit out to destroy our heroes’ dream.

It goes without saying that the acting is excellent, and in Black and Def, our director finds a perfect combo. But this is Gondry’s baby all the way – a reflection on the way convenience has forever altered the idea of what a movie really is. If you focus beyond the obvious, you’ll easily pick up on his idiosyncratic wavelength. The results will blow you and your video-cassette collection away.

Bill Gibron