Videoport, the nearly 30-year-old Portland-based independent video store, is closing. The independent video store that, in the words of former employee Regan Eldridge, “paid for health insurance for its employees before it became de rigueur to do so” will rent no more. The independent video store, where so many Greater Portland residents checked out their first left-of-center movies, including “ Orgasmo” or “ Chuck and Buck” or “ Six-String Samurai,” from the Incredibly Strange aisle is soon to be no more.
It totally breaks my heart.
The rent, as has become the case throughout much of Portland, is rising too high to be sustainable for the shop and, of course, people watch movies differently today. To paraphrase much of the commentary I caught from friends and peers who also grew up around Videoport, it was expected, perhaps, but that doesn’t make the news any less devastating. Videoport is a cultural institution. It is a heartening consolation, I suppose, to know that upon its closure, the store will donate its 18,000 titles to the Portland Public Library, but the heart aches, nonetheless.
Time and again, podcast giant Marc Maron has discussed with guests how we need that older, cooler person in our lives to turn us on to those hip records or weird movies, and those of us who were afforded that luxury are very fortunate people. For many, including me, that is precisely the role Videoport played. It housed all the cool older guys and hip ladies who turned us on to new things. They helped to expand our minds and perspectives and find what we were looking for while turning us onto weird, new stuff. On social media, I have seen a number of people I look to and respect who reiterate Videoport is a cultural institution. It will continue to be one.
Back in the aughts, I worked at 151 Middle St. in Portland, which I called The Hipster Mall. I worked at Casco Bay Books, a hip-beyond-its-years independent bookstore. Across the hall was (and remains) Casablanca Comics. Bull Moose, which is still there, and Videoport were downstairs.
We all hung out and partied and talked about movies, books, music and comics to no end. I made lifelong friends in that complex, and it was at Videoport where I rented every new and strange movie I could and became friends with the store’s employees. I still smile when I see Videoport employees past and present. They helped to shape my outlook and point of view. Owner Bill Duggan sponsored nearly every single cultural event I found myself eager to attend. It was a substantial part of where I came of age.
My proximity to the store was arguably why I went into the profession of video production. Through the experiences of Videoport employees who explored the craft for themselves, I saw that it was possible. One of those former employees was Christian Matzke, who in the last newsletter put out by the company, wrote, “Videoport exists in its own time warp. It defied the odds and created a mythology all its own. I will always treasure my connection to Videoport. I’m so sorry to see it go!”
I agree wholeheartedly.
Another, filmmaker Allen Baldwin, accurately summarized my feelings and those of many regarding the legacy of the store: “I truly dream that one day I can operate a company of cinephiles that provide to the community, and to each other, the value that Videoport has provided me and my community for so many years.”
I am as guilty as many fans who presently are racking their brains, trying to remember the last time they rented from the store. When my wife and I lived in Portland, we rented from Videoport almost daily. Since we moved out to Cornish, it has been longer than I care to admit.
I will miss Videoport, though, even though my visits had become fewer and further between. Its loss, and the loss of the independent video store as a cultural institution to rising rents and shifting trends, is one that will be felt in Portland and beyond.
Many thanks to Duggan and his extended family of Videoport people for welcoming us in, blowing our minds and inviting us back, over and over again, to keep doing the same. Things just won’t be the same without Videoport, and we will miss this one-of-a-kind institution dearly.
Alex Steed has written about and engaged in politics since he was a teenager. He’s an owner-partner of a Portland-based content production company and lives with his family, dogs and garden in Cornish.
