Ritual of renting videos is anything but outdated

FAMILY BUSINESS

Diane Landis Hackett
   My children, ages 10, 9 and 7, have grown up thus far without television in our house. No "Sesame Street" or Saturday morning cartoons, "American Idol" or "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy."
   We are not without entertainment however. We read and dance and play in the woods. We do Legos and go on the computer, and we watch videos, lots and lots of videos. Most weekends, especially in the winter, my family rents four videos, one for each child and one for family movie night.
   Our movie nights are similar to the ones I had with my grandmother who used to invite me up to her apartment to watch the "Ed Sullivan Show" on television while we sat primly on her bed. I remember the excited tingle I would get listening to the harmonies and watching the dancing. Friday movie nights in our house consist of my family of five wiggling into their spots on our king-size bed, propping my Apple laptop up on a big pillow and totally falling into whatever story is in front of us.
   No wonder Aaron Cane, owner of the Princeton Video Store in the Princeton Shopping Center, knows my name. I’m a big renter. No Netflix for us. I love the ritual of it all. I stare at the huge wall of new releases to ponder what mood I need. I hold the box in my hand, turn it over, read the back, discuss my choice with my family or whoever is standing next to me at the time, pay, grab my popcorn and drive home to announce, to my husband’s pleasure or dismay, our choices for the weekend.
   We are not the only family in Princeton renting videos, either. I know this because some Friday nights Princeton Video is more social than Pizza Star after a Little League game. I also know because Mr. Cane said that most of his customers are families with children.
   And the videos we are all renting are pretty similar, too. Mr. Cane says comedies move faster than action thrillers. When the woman from the distribution house calls weekly to give him the rundown on what he can buy, he has a feel, after almost 20 years as owner of this and another video store in Lawrenceville, of what works and what doesn’t. Video games are not that big, and horror doesn’t fly, but quirky films such as "Borat," which he bought extra copies to sell and within days had almost sold out of at $19.99, are big.
   Not only does Mr. Cane know what his customers rent, he also knows many of his customers by name. "I have kids working for me who I remember when they were born," he says in his low-key manner.
   But, while he seems to enjoy his job in a — I have stories to tell — kind of way, Mr. Cane recognizes that times are changing. He says he hopes the store will "hang in there" for another five years until he can retire at 65 years of age.
   A grandfather now, Mr. Cane was born in Germany to Holocaust survivors who moved to Philadelphia when he was an infant. He served in the Army and then ran a lumber business for 20 years before buying the Princeton location with his brother, a silent business partner, in 1988.
   He says the heyday of video rental was between 1993 and 1997, a period that helped put his two children through college. Today, he says, "People are finding different things to do with their time."
   My guess is he means the Internet and all its options such as Web sites like Facebook and YouTube, blogs and games. Then of course there are iPods and Nintendo’s Wii (that wild home video game that actually encourages a bit of body movement).
   I’ll take popcorn and a video any time. And, even though only 50 percent of us do choose that little bag of salty, buttery popcorn, which reeks of habit for me, the store still gives away three cases a week. And, now that the candy is behind glass it is no longer stolen, Mr. Cane adds shaking his head and remembering how one time a father told his young son to simply put the candy in his pocket because the owners wouldn’t care.
   So there are the giveaways, and then there is the looming, non-local option of NetFlix, which my husband has been urging me to do for years now, but I have solidly refused. It turns out, while it seems super easy, there are rumors of problems in the snail mail video rental world. Lawsuits and complaints from consumers that the first three movies come on time but the remaining movies seem to get stalled in the ozone somewhere. And to top it off, there is no free bag of popcorn or a staff person to tell you their opinions about your choice.
   Princeton Video’s rentals currently cost $3.87. Add tax and it comes to $4.05. They rent an average of 350 movies a night on weekends and 100 during the week. They employ a total of six staff members between the two stores so, with a rent of about $7,500 a month, how does a small independent business like this stay afloat?
   We all know of the dreaded late fee. But, the store also sells DVDs that have been on the shelf for about three weeks at a cost of up to $8 each. And, although even Mr. Cane says it is a dying business, there always seems to be someone in the store no matter what time of day it is.
   Mr. Cane acknowledges how touched he is by the loyalty of many of his customers who have been renting from him since he first opened. But, he still seems somewhat resigned to his fate. As we are wrapping up our discussion sitting on the bench outside of Camillo’s Restaurant, my friends Paul and Lisa Kapp round the corner. I take the opportunity to ask the question.
   "Do you rent from Princeton Video?" I say. The reply is right on cue.
   "We just quit Netflix so we could support the Princeton Video Store," says Mr. Kapp who rents one or two videos a week for his family of four. I whoop and look over at Mr. Cane who simply shares his ever-placid smile with us.
   On the way home, I remember two nights earlier when we had watched a lovely little rental called "A Good Year" with Russell Crowe. The two of has had disappeared for an hour and a half and lived the life of a man who had the courage to leave his hectic Type A existence for a villa in France, a beautiful woman and a vineyard of his very own. I felt so romantic, so warm and fuzzy as the credits rolled. My husband seemed to feel it, too.
   The experience of this movie makes me want to rent myself another mood, another feeling. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll hop in the car, drive a few blocks and rent myself a little laughter.
   
Diane Landis Hackett’s Family Business column appears monthly in Princeton Business Journal.