A jubilant celebration of the greatest VHS cover art in all its gory, glory—which inspired, scared, and delighted generations of movie-goers.
For anyone who frequented a video store in the ‘80s or ‘90s, the styles are instantly recognizable: surprisingly beautiful paintings of fanged and winged monsters; ridiculously lurid depictions of young men and women in peril; illustrations so incompetently drawn as to qualify as outsider art; absurdly overstuffed photomontages. The home video revolution was accompanied by an explosion of all kinds of cover art, embodying the anything-goes ethos of an era when obscure, cheaply produced movies—usually with supernatural storylines and bottom-drawer special effects—could be distributed throughout the world and watched from the comfort of one’s living room.
Videotapes From Hell provides a fascinating illustrated history of VHS cover art in all its glory, from direct-to-video oddities to major studio releases. Drawing on the expansive collection of world-renowned horror expert Stephen Jones, it collects nearly 500 pieces of period artwork, accompanied by detailed captions that give the history of the movie and its release dates in video format. In addition to front-cover images and full-sleeve spreads, it includes examples of promotional posters and freestanding original artwork that was incorporated into box designs.
Including a foreword from beloved cult director Joe Dante (Gremlins, The ‘Burbs) and commentary from horror luminaries such as Ramsey Campbell, Mick Garris, Stephen King and many more, Videotapes From Hell is a garish and jubilant celebration of a lost genre ripe for rediscovery.
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As someone who came of age during the VCR years, I had a really great time with this nostalgic look back. There's an interesting and comprehensive history of the video revolution to be found in VIDEOTAPES FROM HELL, but for me, a lot of the joy came from seeing the often lurid but always delightful VHS cover art for tapes I remember renting (or even owning) back in the day. It was also fascinating to see alternate, new-to-me covers for those same movies, since the book focuses mainly on the UK art, not the US versions. (Usually they're the same, but sometimes there are intriguing differences.)
If I had any complaint, it would only be that not enough space is given to two of the direct-to-video titans I remember best from back in the day: Full Moon and Troma. While both are mentioned, and Charles Band does get his own chapter, I think each would have been worthy of deeper dives.
Most people don't actually read the text in big, glossy coffee table books like this, but I recommend giving it a go. There's some really interesting history to be learned, as well as information about weird and obscure films you've likely not heard of before. It's a good time!
Step back in time to the era where preparing for the weekend meant pouring over the available selections at the local video store. Now if you were the type of person who drove past the national chain with its trademark blue and yellow color scheme and instead went to the Mom and Pop shop, then this is the book for you. If you would forgo the family friend tapes for the genre and cult movies, the B flicks with their sometimes gaudy, sometimes gratuitous, always glorious covers then again, this is the book for you. Stephen Jones presents a glance at those covers and provides descriptions of each of the films in question. There is also a history of rise and fall of the importance of the VHS format. There are a number of mini-interviews with horror and video luminaries. The real stars here are the covers themselves. Jones includes a number of foreign covers and promotional materials to augment the covers which graced the spot next to the VCR while the tape was playing. Recommended for the cinephile and horror aficionado.
3.5 Too heavy leaning into British home video covers; when I read a book on this topic and that features VHS covers, I would prefer to see the videos I remember seeing in my local video store. It's neat in theory, but that's not what I personally want to see. The history of Video Nasties is delved into, appropriate given this this is a British publication, but the last part showcases just straight-up DTV, borderline softcore porn trash; this space could have been used for something much more interesting. A few facts are wrong, but the book itself is lovingly designed and there's some cool contributors, but this wasn't an instant favorite of mine.
If you came of age during the VCR revolution in the 1980s, this book should bring back memories of evenings watching some really bad shit. I've seen far too many of the films that are talked about here. An invaluable resource, even if they don't have Mountaintop Motel Massacre here. ("Please do not disturb Evelyn. She ALREADY is!") Now, is it time to have a collection of covers from bad romance novels? Could it be possible to have that many heaving bodices and men with flowing hair collected within one book?
This was interesting to look through; I hadn’t thought much about how the shift in being able to watch movies at home with the invention of VHS tapes impacted other parts of the industry till this.