To say this film brilliantly captures the vibe of the mid 90s is an understatement. It's also a very relevant and fond farewell to independent music, and all things independent, or at least relatively independent. It's easy to get lured into thinking about the plot regarding saving a specific physical music store, but it's an obvious metaphor towards saving something so much greater than that. The death of independent music and culture was well underway, crushed by corporate monopolization. But, for this film to be made 1yr prior to Clinton's 1996 Telecommunications Act is remarkable and only adds to it's legacy and cultural relevance. I particularly liked the final scene when the two guys are talking critically about a band, and the artistic motivation for pursuing a solo career...that's how it was back then. The rich & popular artists were still very connected to their writing...and that sophisticated spirit flowed down to the streets where common citizens would talk about art. I'm estimating American Pie would not have been made if this film didn't exist?

It's hard to believe that this cult classic from 1995 is nearly three decades old. While elements of the film have stood the test of time (including one of the best film soundtracks to ever be made), there are bittersweet reminders here that the world that Empire Records depicts no longer exists. For those who were around in the 1990's, this often poignant movie will hit your nostalgic sweet spot, making you yearn for yesteryears. Yet, sentimentality aside, Empire Records presents a romanticized view of retail life as we once knew it. The fact the film takes place in a record store (which have sadly become extinct - for the most part) and only a few other locations are shown, the movie possesses a theatre-like charm. At times, you can't help but wonder if Empire Records should really be adapted for the stage (hey, there's a musical in there somewhere). The cast is attractive and clever, tossing witticisms left and right in a style reminiscent of Dorothy Parker. Everyone here has something smart or sassy to say. It's only when the film tries to go deep emotionally that things feel more maudlin than they need to. Fortunately, director Allan Moyle (there should be no surprise that he also directed two other cult favorites, Pump Up the Volume and Times Square among others) knows exactly when to lighten the mood with comedic bits that would fit in well on any sitcom of the era (hello, Friends). Some of the actors here went on to huge cinematic success, including Renee Zellweger in a fantastic early-in-her-career performance. On that note, we need her version of the song Sugar High to finally get the record release it deserves. Her performance of it (albeit it's less than two minutes on screen) is alone worth watching the film for. That and a look back at a time where young people had cool jobs in cool places and listened to really, really cool music - on vinyl, even.

This film would have been a whole lot better if every character in it wasn't a caricature. Store clerk Mark (Ethan Embry) and shoplifter Warren (Brendan Sexton III) were the worst. There might be teens that clueless and arrogant respectively, but in this film, they were just plain annoying. And the record shop manager Joe Reaves (Anthony LaPaglia) spent an awful lot of time deliberating over what he'd do about the missing nine grand. Seemed pretty simple to me, but in keeping with the one big happy family concept, he presided over the madness going on with the serenity of a Buddhist monk. Maybe I'm just a little too far removed from the target audience for this picture but it did nothing for me. The story was fairly predictable about how the missing money would be replaced, while the teen angst aspect of all the employees wound up pretty much resolved by the time the closing credits rolled. Not very comparable to real life, but I guess the picture had it's time and place, which is to say, it's a good thing the Nineties are over.