Cannibal Error: Anti-Film Propaganda and the 'Video Nasties' Panic of the 1980s - Softcover

Kerekes, David; Slater, David

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1909394955 ISBN 13: 9781909394957

Publisher: Headpress, 2023

Synopsis

In the early 1980s, video technology forever changed the face of home entertainment. The videocassette – a handy-sized cartridge of magnetic tape inside a plastic shell – domesticated cinema as families across Britain began to consume films in an entirely new way. Demand was high and the result was a video gold rush, with video rental outlets appearing on every high street almost overnight. Without moderation their shelves filled with all manner of films depicting unbridled sex and violence. A backlash was inevitable. Video was soon perceived as a threat to society, a view neatly summed up in the term ‘video nasties’.

CANNIBAL ERROR chronicles the phenomenal rise of video culture through a tumultuous decade, its impact and its aftermath. Based on extensive research and interviews, the authors provide a first-hand account of Britain in the 1980s, when video became a scapegoat for a variety of social ills. It examines the confusion spawned by the Video Recordings Act 1984, the subsequent witch hunt that culminated in police raids and arrests, and offers insightful commentary on many contentious and ‘banned’ films that were cited by the media as influential factors in several murder cases. It also investigates the cottage industry in illicit films that developed as a direct result of the ‘video nasty’ clampdown.

CANNIBAL ERROR, a revised and reworked edition of SEE NO EVIL (2000), is an exhaustive and startling overview of Britain’s ‘video nasty’ panic, the ramifications of which are still felt today.

About this title

About the Authors

DAVID KEREKES co-founded Headpress and recently Oil On Water Press. He is author of Mezzogiorno (2012) and Sex Murder Art: The Films of Jörg Buttgereit (1994), co-author of Killing for Culture: An Illustrated History of Death Film from Mondo to Snuff (1994 & 2012) and has written extensively on popular culture.

DAVID SLATER co-founded Headpress and has worked as a technician in the electronics and engineering industries, co-authored Killing for Culture: An Illustrated History of Death Film from Mondo to Snuff (1994 & 2012) and has written several articles. His interests include movies, books, open country and forteana.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

‘An orgy of commercialism’
CHAP 2: UNEASE
There was no such thing as all-night television.
When video arrived, television networks in Britain were in the habit of ending broadcasts at around midnight. As had been the tradition in cinemas for many years, the BBC signed off with the National Anthem.
Video helped to eradicate such scheduling constraints and gave people the opportunity to watch what they wanted when they wanted. The growing likelihood that cable and satellite television would soon take off didn’t seem to hinder sales of video recorders. Instead these technologies were seen to offer the video public an even greater choice for time-shift taping ― which remained the most common use for video up until the middle of 1981 when the upsurge in pre-recorded titles began. A glut of faddish gadgetry and paraphernalia arrived on the market to assist the video owner in their hectic video recording schedule. These included the Videolog, Video Organiser, Videoplanner and write’n’wipe label kits. The hopeless enthusiast could even attire themselves in a “Video Freak” or “I Love Video” T-shirt (£5.99 each from BBS in North Humberside).
Video didn’t become a substitute for TV viewing, but more a reason to watch for longer. As noted by Laurie Taylor and Bob Mullan in their book Uninvited Guests, “Extra time has to be found to accommodate the extra viewing.”
For many, playing tapes deep into the night provided the answer ― a habit which often drew unwelcome attention from opportunist crooks, trawling the darkened streets for the give-away flicker of an ‘after hours’ TV screen. Protection from the thieves ― poised outside, awaiting the cathode glow to terminate and make their move1 ― could be obtained in the guise of VCR alarm systems.
“In Coventry, about fifteen video recorders are stolen each week,” the Midlands based manufac-turer of Videoalert told the Sunday Times in May 1983. With advance orders for 300, it was esti-mated that annual sales of Videoalert ― which attached to the outside of the VCR, emitting a nine-ty-eight decibel shriek should the unit be moved or lifted ― would hit a rather optimistic 25,000 mark. A window sticker served to ward off the crooks.
Another concern came from a different quarter entirely. It was feared that people were becoming addicted to watching videos, especially late at night. Without the discipline of television’s mid-night termination, it was believed that video would wean a nation of insomniacs.

Edition details

• Publisher: Headpress
• Publication date: 2023
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1909394955
• ISBN 13: 9781909394957
• Binding: Paperback
• Edition number: 2
• Number of pages: 596