For some, it’s the beeping noises, blinking lights, and buzzing chatter that lures them in. For others, it’s the array of rhythm, racing, shooting, and fighting titles. Either way, both view video game arcades as more than just the sum of their machines; they’re a refuge from the outside world, a space where anyone can gather for hours of entertainment, and a home away from home. And, both groups will happily flock through their doors, eager to while away the better part of a day or evening. Alas, their chosen pastime has become increasingly difficult to pursue in New York City, as linked to the demise of one particular establishment.
When Chinatown Fair closed down in 2011, it was both an inevitable event brought about by a waning industry that had never been able to sufficiently recover from the impact of the home console market decades earlier, and a sad occasion for the dedicated patrons who had lived much of their lives — and grown from children to men, in some cases — within its walls. The Lost Arcade tells its tale, as well as the story of the people who made the city’s last operating venue of its type such a beloved place. Looking not just backward but forward too, the documentary also chronicles the competing efforts of a former employee and a new arcade entrepreneur to continue the Mott Street institution’s legacy in their own ways.
Accordingly, first-time director/editor Kurt Vincent and writer/producer Irene Chin approach their subject with both facts and sentiment on their minds, and don’t shy away from combining the two. Compiled from footage and discussions collected over the course of five years, the film starts with the recollection of a dream, then delves into the basis for such warm memories, before exploring just what went wrong. Common to each is the feeling of belonging, and of longing to remain linked to the arcade community. When attention turns to what came afterward — and to where anyone can now hope to seek the inimitable experience that is standing in front of a console, staring at a screen, speedily pressing buttons, and sharing the fun with a room full of likeminded individuals — it doesn’t just represent the natural evolution of the real-life narrative, but of the corresponding emotional journey.
Indeed, The Lost Arcade is less concerned with details and more focused on conveying the precise mood of both jubilance and comfort that Chinatown Fair evoked in its dedicated customers, though — as historical tidbits, including information about the famous dancing chicken, demonstrate — it doesn’t wholly eschew the former in favour of the latter. Instead, the film primarily relies upon a wealth of anecdotes from long-term owner Sam Palmer, manager Henry Cen, and employee Akuma Hokura to deliver both, while tackling the task of turning their talk into a feature in the same affectionate yet modest manner as the space at its centre.
Cue an intimate effort that could never be charged with concentrating on style over substance, but could be accused of heightening sensation over aesthetics. That’s not a criticism; The Lost Arcade isn’t a flashy offering, but its plainly shot to-camera interviews and roaming images through busy playing floors suit its main location perfectly. Nor does the documentary simply aim to induce nostalgia, even if its adoring gaze and synth-heavy soundtrack seem to indicate otherwise. Wistfulness remains inescapable, but it’s the reasoning behind the waves of fond reminiscence that prove the feature’s true topic of contemplation: a place that not only attracted avid gamers, but became just as devoted to them in turn.
Rating: 3 stars out of 5
The Lost Arcade
Director: Kurt Vincent
USA, 2015, 79 mins
Melbourne International Film Festival
miff.com.au
28 July – 14 August 2016
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