Forestville Video/Old English Fish ‘N’ Chips – Forestville, NSW
The dead and buried past regularly finds itself betrayed by even the most unassuming Judas. In the case of Forestville Video at #14 The Centre (don’t miss out, book ahead on 451 3040), the footfalls in the crypt belong to oversized clown shoes.
Krusty’s Fun House, a puzzle game for Sega’s Master System featuring characters from The Simpsons, was an ideal rental upon release in 1992. Tough enough to challenge you over a rainy weekend (or a week at best), but not a keeper. The Flying Edge title found an appropriate home at Forestville Video.
And there, it also found a family. Forestville Video appears to have been “The Centre” of all things Master System, with titles galore to satisfy the weekend cravings of Forestvillians.
And like dandelion seeds borne on the wind, Forestville Video’s Master System library has made its way out into the wider world. Even a cursory glance managed to find them as far as Modbury, Reservoir and even Hobart.
But them’s the spores; what about the source?
On the fringe of the Northern Beaches, Forestville is often overshadowed by its neighbour, Frenchs Forest. But it has its own virtues: plenty of trees, a distinct lack of Tony Abbott these days, and this bustling shopping centre. But it’s not just any centre. This is THE Centre.
The very same! Today, Centurions come here for cakes, cafes and Coles. It’s been a very long time since anyone turned to The Centre with a week of Master System on their mind. Until I rocked up, anyway.
Here’s that core, that heart of Sega goodness as it existed for years. In Australia, the Master System was a viable concern between about 1987 and 1994-ish, so it’s safe to assume that by the time the above photo accompanied this slobbering review in 2011, the games were long gone.
Should I look on things positively purely because of their nostalgia? Because that’s how I feel about Forestville Video.
And so begins Sally R’s breathless account of a dying king’s final days (with a Top Video crown, no less). She goes on to say that although the owner is a lovely old man, the shop itself was looking rather tired. Maybe Krusty and Golvellius were still there after all?
Forestville Video is located in Forestville’s creatively-titled “The Centre”, and looks as though it’s been there for the past thirty years. A small and sometimes dusty store, Forestville Video is truly the stuff of childhoods for us 90’s kids. It has all the ingredients of what made a great night for 1996; copious amounts of lollies and softdrinks, new releases on video and a fairly negotiable late fee policy.
None of that today.
Replaced by a modern milk bar, any “’90s kids” looking for jollies best jog on should they find themselves at The Centre. The toy shop, Kids Paradise, is full of strange ersatz Lego kits seemingly generated by AI; the corpse of the TAB has been coopted by a tax agent; and the pizza option is Dominos. More like the centre of hell…
Anyway, how do I know that Old English is Forestville Video? After all, it’s not like FV was the ‘ville’s only video option back in Sally R’s heyday:
That’s right. Video Ezy, one of the industry’s giants, came to play in Forestville. Shop 25 (today a pharmacy) is located opposite Shop 14, making this into one of the more interesting video shop head to heads of the era. Forestville Video ultimately prevailed, with Video Ezy content to shrivel into one of those vending machines and relocate to nearby Forestway Shopping Centre. A TKO, I think that’s known in industry parlance.
No, the evidence you crave can be found stamped right on Old English’s dirty brick posterior. Let’s away!
It’s seen much better days, but this sign tells us more about the colourful history of The Centre than even Sally R’s faded memories. Tear your eyes away from that bathroom and take a closer look.
Old as it looks, this sign is actually younger than the Master System games found strewn across the used gamiverse. The phone number (book ahead, seriously!) is preceded by a nine, a post-1994 development. Find a Sony PlayStation game with the Forestville Video branding and it’s likely to corroborate.
Also of note: Forestville Video was your headquarters for tennis court bookings. The court still exists, found nearby at Melwood Sports Complex, but the combination of sport and the ultimate prone pastime seems like an uneasy alliance. Maybe it was a role the lovely old man took on out of guilt for all the guts he was responsible for.
Less surprising is the reference to the TAB, which was a couple of doors north of Forestville Video. The final iteration of Forestville TAB was much smaller than the “next to” direction suggests, but as you can see in the photo of Old English, vintage TAB livery can be seen right beside it. It’s likely the TAB downsized as the area’s clubs cut its deplorable lunch. Also, the acronym doesn’t usually feature the periods, so methinks this is just a bit of free advertising on behalf of a lovely old man who may have been a patron.
Old video games are a goldmine of reminders of a world the Sally R in all of us pines for, a world when happiness cost $3 weekly and the game was only ever really over when the fine was due. Next time you pick up an ex-rental game, take a closer look and see where it takes you.
Video Ezy/Your Loan Mortgage Brokers – Narwee, NSW
I’ve written before about the legend of Video Ezy, and much has been written since about its downfall. Gather ’round, kids, and I’ll tell you a tale.
It should come as no surprise to anyone that the days of the video shop are long over, with so many titans of the industry falling in recent times.
As recently as 1996, today’s home entertainment climate seemed unthinkable – an era in which an unlimited well of entertainment options is available in one’s own home. Sure, occasionally you’ll spy a lone DVD kiosk, now the pillar of the industry (an industry…), standing unloved in a shopping centre somewhere, but I’m willing to bet very few of you have ever used one.
So neglected by society is the concept of renting entertainment that few, if any, memorial sites exist today for what was once such an everyday part of life. That libraries survived the format war – and continue to thrive today – speaks volumes about how far from grace the video shop has fallen.
But here, in this dark, menacing alleyway in Narwee, the legacy lives on.
Look up and you’ll see a typical example of the de-ezyfication process. Even before the graffiti artists got to it, a more professional job had been done on the “Ezy” part, presumably as some off-brand video shop took up Video Ezy’s old space in those dark later years.
Around the front, you’d never know any of that. Four separate, entirely uninteresting businesses now occupy the huge floorspace you know Video Ezy would have filled effortlessly. If there’s one thing vendors of unwieldy tape-to-tape spools contained in cumbersome plastic cases did well, it’s take up real estate.
On the west side, our quarry is left relatively untouched, and we can see that the building once housed a supermarket as well.
Just for a moment, take yourself back to one of those Friday nights, when someone couldn’t be bothered cooking and there was nothing on TV. You’d head down to the video shop, where part of the fun were the hours it took just to decide on one title (and with the prices as they were, who could blame you?). You’d grab some popcorn because you’ve been conditioned as a corny traditionalist. You’d hit up the supermarket for a bucket of exotic ice cream (which for some meant a Viennetta). And then you’d head home via the nearest fast food joint and ring in the weekend with the biggest Hollywood stars of the day.
That’s right, you didn’t ask for much out of life.
On the back wall, however, an urban Rembrandt tells another story…
..one of community, harmony, and happy weekends full of leftover Viennetta, when you got it the first time or got it free.
Past/Lives Flashback #4: Videomania – Rosebery, NSW
Original article: The Marina Picture Palace/Videomania/For Lease – Rosebery, NSW
The Marina, 1941. Image courtesy City of Botany Bay Local History Image Archive.
Sometimes revisiting a place can reveal secrets you missed the first time. Case in point, the rotting behemoth on the side of Gardeners Road formerly known as Videomania. In its glory days this was the grand Marina picture palace, which operated until 1984 – a time when video killed the theatre star.
I tried to get the same angle as above, I really did.
Another place for which time seems to stand still, Videomania remains relatively unchanged since last year. Sure, there are some new posters up along its face and there’s a new cupcake shop in the old bank next door, but the building itself is no different.
We can only speculate as to how long those promo guys were waiting, longing to plaster the front of the place with their posters. I suppose the temptation became too much at some point, much to Jack Dee’s benefit.
Even Leonardo is still there, ever vigilant. And he’d want to be, given the former theatre’s seedy surroundings…
Out the back, I encounter some inspiring graffiti and little else. The place may still be for lease, but they certainly haven’t expended any effort making it presentable.
I’m guessing that vacuum doesn’t work.
Just when I was thinking to myself that there was nothing left to discover here, I found it. It’s something that was probably there last time, but I just happened to miss in the excitement of seeing a Ninja Turtle in the last place you’d expect to see one. See? The gluey remnants still attached to the side appear to vaguely form the word ‘Roxy’, another name this theatre went by at some point in its illustrious life. But that was just the primer. Have a look at this:
Can you see it? Look really closely, and maybe try squinting. Still no good? Okay, let’s get a bit closer…
How about now? The ‘R’ or maybe the ‘N’ should hit you first, and then from there it’s easy. Yes, amazingly, the awning’s decorative ‘MARINA’ lettering has somehow survived, allowing us an even deeper glimpse into the past than it was thought possible. Now all we need to do is arrange a screening of ‘Puddin’ Head’ inside. Maybe we should get in touch with the owners?
We’re in the home stretch now, only three to go. Here’s a clue for the next entry: it’s another theatre.
ROCKIN’ UPDATE: The development-minded Vlattas family, owners of the Cleveland Street Theatre and the Newtown Hub, are currently renovating the Marina with the aim of turning it into a live music venue. My suggestion: keep Leonardo as your bouncer. Thanks, reader Rozie!
The Marina Picture Palace/Videomania/For Lease – Rosebery, NSW
Let’s go back to the world of movies with this piece of work. It’s been sitting on Gardeners Road, Rosebery for a long time, and it shows. The signs promise ‘Videomania’, but for the last ten years it’s been derelict. Before we perform the post-mortem, let’s take a moment to reflect upon the life and times of the former Marina Theatre…
The Marina Theatre, 1941. Note the two sweet shops sitting to the left of the cinema. Also notice the bicyclists not wearing helmets, a quick way to end up with a puddin’ head. Image courtesy City of Botany Bay Local History Image Archive.
The Marina Picture Palace opened in June, 1927 with a hot double feature of Sparrows, starring Mary Pickford, and The Beloved Rogue, with John Barrymore.
Here’s an off-topic aside: The Beloved Rogue became a lost film for 40 years after its release until a well-preserved copy was found in the private collection of Mary Pickford. Now we can all enjoy Barrymore’s admitted overacting as Francois Villon. At least, we could if our video shops were as open as they used to be.
For those with a romantic image of how the cinemagoing experience used to be, and how grand it would have been back then to while away an afternoon at the picture palace, please allow me to now rain on your parade (or spoil your ending). In a scene more suited to modern-day Greater Union Hurstville, ‘excitement prevailed’ at the Marina in 1928:
Townsville Daily Bulletin, 3 Apr 1928.
The reference to ‘complete order’ is very Third Reich, isn’t it? Also, it really was ‘fortunate’, wasn’t it, that the molotov fell into the ‘side aisles’ (cheap seats). Yes, what a bit of excitement.
The Marina Theatre, 1952. Note that only one sweet shop remains. Image courtesy Sydney Reference Collection.
From the early 1960s, the cinema opened and closed a number of times under various independent ownerships. It’s safe to say that if even Hoyts wasn’t taking the bait and buying it up, it must have had something wrong with it. The Marina’s stop-start existence carried on throughout the next twenty years until it was renamed the Rosebery Cinema in the early 80s. That’ll get the crowds back in. Or maybe it was to fool the molotov throwers into thinking it was a different cinema? Either way, GOOD PLAN. So good in fact that the Marina closed for good as a theatre in 1984.
Here’s where we come in. Since that time it’s been Videomania, and now a derelict hulk. It’s a close call, but one of these incarnations is slightly more interesting. Fittingly, Videomania closed in 2002, when video-mania had all but died out, and videomaniacs had flocked to DVD. Rather than switching to a better quality format that takes up less shelf space, Videomania chose to fall on its sword.
You mean ‘weeklies’.
Even though the site is empty, the front window still contains some strange sights.
This trading hours sign indicates that the video shop NEVER CLOSED. Finding this is like finding a gravestone that reads B. 1929 D. —
A series of Greek film posters sit in the window too. Doesn’t that one on the right look enticing. Can’t wait to see that one.
There’s a poster for the Nintendo 64 game Turok: Dinosaur Hunter, which was released in 1997. The Nintendo 64 was discontinued in 2001, and Acclaim, the company responsible for Turok, went out of business in 2004. Fitting choice.
My favourite, and most bizarrely of all, is this full sized Leonardo standup. This isn’t the first time I’ve encountered the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles during my adventures with this blog, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Leo stands as the building’s watchful protector – ready to cut down intruders with his blunt katana and a killer smile.
The sign at the front advertises The Full Monty, another 1997 release. Or at least, it did once upon a time. It’s often irritating to only get to see some of these places from the outside. You stand there wondering what it must be like inside given how well-preserved the exterior is, and whether the other Ninja Turtles are lurking within. Well, wonder no more, as thanks to the folks at Kelly & Sons Real Estate, we can get quite a good look at what’s happening inside the old Marina:
Image courtesy Kelly & Sons Real Estate.
Image courtesy Kelly & Sons Real Estate.
Image courtesy Kelly & Sons Real Estate.
Image courtesy Kelly & Sons Real Estate.
Image courtesy Kelly & Sons Real Estate.
Image courtesy Kelly & Sons Real Estate.
Remember, if you like what you see, you too can lease this bad boy for only $130k pa. What a steal! Kelly & Sons – holla at me so I can let you know where to send my commission.
What an ugly building. There, I said it.
Despite Videomania acting as a testament to the failure of the video shop concept in Rosebery, Top Video at some point decided to make a go of it next door. Smart thinking.
Setting up in what was clearly a bank (and before that, the Marina’s sweet shops), Top Video expected to bank fat coin on the back of Videomania’s failure.
The new release poster left inside suggests that things went wrong around 2008-09. A legacy that started with Sparrows ends with You Don’t Mess With the Zohan.
As I turned to leave, I took one last look back at Videomania, and it looked like the building was crying. Look at those top windows. It was as if the theatre was imploring me, as the only one around who cared, to put it out of its misery. I would, Marina, honestly, it’s just…that Leonardo is one intimidating dude.
VIRTUAL UPDATE: An explosive new picture of the Marina/Roxy/Videomania from 1996 has come to light! Check it:
From this, we can see the bank next door was in fact an ANZ, that the Videomania side entrance was once viable, and that VIRTUAL REALITY IS HERE. How else could I have known it was from 1996?
FUTURISTIC UPDATE: I revisited the Marina a year later and made an explosive discovery.
ROCKIN’ UPDATE: The development-minded Vlattas family, owners of the Cleveland Street Theatre and the Newtown Hub, are currently renovating the Marina with the aim of turning it into a live music venue. My suggestion: keep Leonardo as your bouncer. Thanks, reader Rozie!
Epping Theatre/Fashions Galore/Video Ezy/Network Video & Gloria Jean’s & Jackie’s Hair and Beauty – Epping, NSW
Another testament to the power and influence of video shops in the old days – it took three shops to replace one giant Video Ezy. You can see on the left the space where new release posters would have hung, luring potential new members inside and forcing them to think of a password of the easily forgettable variety in order to get a video card just to be able to hire Maverick for the night. Sadly for the former king of weekly entertainment, Ezy Street is a long way away these days.
Meanwhile, if you paired up locations of the ubiquitous Gloria Jean’s with Thai restaurants, you might find the number is a perfect match. Even Mickey D’s doesn’t cover this kind of territory.
THEATRICAL UPDATE: After digging a bit deeper (read: having a look around the back), it’s become apparent that this location has a bit more to it than it would seem. From the 1930s to at least the 1950s, this was the site of Epping Theatre, which is laughably obvious when you check out the rear:
If it looks like a theatre etc… The discovery of the ‘Fashions Galore’ sign means that this is now probably the longest titled entry on this blog – quite an achievement given the competition. Epping Theatre is a bit of a mystery; apart from some old ‘staff wanted’ ads and its listing in several State Library photo archives (currently unseen), there’s not much out there. Or is there? Readers, if you can help, you know what to do.
HELPFUL UPDATE: Reader Carmen was kind enough to send in a picture of Epping Theatre in its prime. Judging by the films on show – Johnny Belinda, The Gallant Blade and Red Canyon – this was taken in 1949. Check it out:
Epping Theatre, 1949. Thanks to reader Carmen for the image!
PS. Just in case you didn’t believe this was at any stage a Video Ezy, check out this solid gold proof that awaits those brave enough to wander up the back alley:
It says a lot about the current state of Video Ezy that this guy’s chosen to park there despite the sign. Ballsy.
Past/Lives of the Near Future 