Defying the Digital Age: Why This Filmmaker Chose VHS

Roberto dos Santos has adopted an distinctive approach to distributing his debut feature film, opting to launch it straight to VHS—a format that hasn’t had a new cinema release in two decades. The film, titled This Is How the World Ends, tells the story of two siblings meeting up at a party in the midst of humanity’s final moments, mixing end-of-world themes with the ambiance of Burning Man. The South African filmmaker’s decision to eschew online platforms and streaming platforms represents a intentional dismissal of contemporary distribution approaches, especially in response to worries regarding AI and automated creativity. By issuing on VHS, dos Santos is producing a tangible, flawed format that requires authentic human labour from viewers—forcing them to find a working VCR and purchase or order the tape themselves.

A Conscious Reversion to Flaws

Dos Santos’s choice to embrace VHS is anything but nostalgic whimsy; it represents a ideological position against the sterile perfection of digital formats. “I want people to experience emotion that’s imperfect, because VHS is an imperfect format,” he explains. The format’s inherent limitations—its graininess, its tendency to deteriorate, its technical constraints—become features rather than flaws. In an era where AI technology promises seamless automation and computational accuracy, the director sees value in our imperfect, messy creative output. The VHS medium itself becomes a declaration, a concrete repudiation of the polished, algorithmic content that dominates contemporary entertainment.

There is also a tangible exclusiveness woven throughout this release strategy. By asking audiences to actually acquire a VCR and purchase a tape, dos Santos creates what he calls “a club”—a community of people with specific tastes and authentic dedication to engaging with his work. This selective access, instead of proving elitist, reflects his belief that meaningful art requires commitment from its audience. “I’m requesting that audiences take on considerable effort, but that’s what it constitutes being a human,” he states. In an age of seamless digital access and immediate satisfaction, the friction becomes the point, transforming the experience of viewing into a intentional, mindful choice.

• VHS manufacturing ceased globally in 2016 with Funai Electric’s closure
• Only 10% of British households retained VCRs by the start of the 2000s
• First straight-to-VHS theatrical release in approximately two decades
• Physical format demands deliberate effort and active viewer participation

From Legal Practice to Film: A Life-Changing Recognition

Roberto dos Santos’s journey from lawyer to filmmaker was not a gradual career pivot but rather a sharp, traumatic turning point. Originally practising law in South Africa, dos Santos found himself held at gunpoint multiple times within the space of only a few months—a terrifying string of occurrences that forced a reckoning with his own finitude. These traumatic encounters shattered any illusions about the trajectory his life was following and triggered a complete reconsideration of his values and objectives.

The experience became transformative. Confronted with his own fragility and the unpredictable nature of existence, dos Santos made a decisive break from the legal profession. “I realised that I’m going to die one day and, if I’m destined to die, I might as well do something that I’ll really, truly, passionately enjoy,” he reflects. This philosophy—born from genuine peril rather than abstract contemplation—became the driving force behind his move into filmmaking, imbuing his artistic output with an urgency and authenticity that arises from real-world understanding.

The Impetus for Creative Evolution

The traumatic occurrences that punctuated dos Santos’s life in South Africa were not merely personal crises; they functioned as a creative catalyst. Rather than retreat into safety or stability, he opted to channel his newfound perspective into artistic expression. The decision to leave law for filmmaking was radical, yet it demonstrated a lucid comprehension that significant work—work that truly matters—requires both passion and purpose. His subsequent productions bear the imprint of this metamorphosis.

This Is How the World Ends itself mirrors the themes of mortality and human connection that stemmed from dos Santos’s life-threatening encounters. The film examines two siblings reuniting at a party held in humanity’s last moments, implying that even doomsday situations cannot reduce the essential human requirement for meaningful connection. The director’s personal journey from violence and vulnerability to creative output influences every frame of his work.

Opposing Artificial Intelligence

The spectre of artificial intelligence looms large over This Is How the World Ends—quite literally, as the film’s end-times narrative is triggered by AI itself. For dos Santos, this storytelling decision reflects genuine anxieties about the encroachment of machine-generated creative work into spaces previously reserved for human expression. The decision to release his film on VHS, then, becomes a deliberate rejection against an ever more digital and algorithmically-driven world. By selecting an outdated medium, dos Santos demands an engagement with authenticity itself, requiring that audiences interact with something deliberately resistant to the frictionless convenience of modern technology.

This philosophical approach runs through dos Santos’s whole artistic vision. He views the VHS release as a principled statement rather than superficial marketing. arguing that genuine art must retain its human flaws. “It’s a film produced by humans, for humans,” he maintains, stressing the invaluable role of human creative expression in an age when machines can simulate artistic output with increasing sophistication. The tangible, tactile quality of VHS—the need to purchase a tape, to hunt for a working player—serves as a filter that separates those who genuinely value the work from casual consumers scrolling through algorithmic recommendations.

• VHS format rejects algorithmic distribution and commercial streaming services
• AI threatens creative expression, making authentic expression more highly valued
• Physical media requires intentional engagement from viewers

Human Authenticity in an Automated World

Dos Santos presents a persuasive argument for imperfection as a marker of authentic human creation. In a context where artificial intelligence can create convincing images, music and text with scant human intervention, the imperfections present in analogue media serve as badges of honour rather than functional flaws. The degraded image quality, the subtle deformation of tape, the erratic reproduction—these are not limitations to overcome but characteristics that differentiate human work from machine output. This philosophy directly contests the drive for technology towards perfection and seamless efficiency.

The filmmaker’s belief that “if your mum can do it, it doesn’t have value” captures his perspective on machine-generated creative work. True artistic worth, in his view, necessitates the investment of human effort, intuition and struggle. By demanding that audiences engage with the inconvenience of VHS technology, dos Santos establishes a obstacle that somewhat counterintuitively affirms the film’s value. Those willing to undertake the effort join an intentional community of viewers who have consciously selected human creativity over algorithmic convenience, making the act of watching itself an act of cultural resistance.

A Increasing Demand for Analogue Media

Whilst the music industry has experienced a notable resurgence in vinyl record sales over the past decade, the shift back towards physical media extends far beyond the turntable. Cassette tapes have undergone an surprising revival amongst independent musicians and collectors, whilst film photography has gained new devotees amongst younger generations who never experienced its original heyday. This wider cultural movement towards tactile, imperfect formats suggests that dos Santos is accessing something deeper than mere nostalgia—a real appetite for permanence and authenticity in an ever more transient digital landscape. The VHS revival, though specialised, forms part of this wider re-evaluation of what we value in how we consume media.

The appeal transcends straightforward nostalgia. Physical media possesses built-in permanence that digital formats fail to ensure. Streaming services come and go, accounts are deleted, algorithms change overnight, but a VHS tape stays the same in your hands. This durability carries profound psychological weight in an era of digital precarity, where availability of cultural works depends upon corporate subscription agreements and internet connectivity. For dos Santos and his audience, the medium itself serves as a statement about ownership and control over the right to preserve art independently of corporate gatekeepers or technological obsolescence.

Nostalgia Meets Permanence

Critics might dismiss the VHS release as straightforward nostalgia-driven marketing, a ploy intended to generate headlines rather than serve genuine artistic purpose. Yet dos Santos’s approach stands apart via intellectual rigour. The choice demonstrates not a desire to recapture the 1990s but rather a conscious refusal of the disposability built into contemporary media systems. VHS, precisely because it requires physical effort to locate and upkeep, requires that viewers engage with the work. This resistance transforms into a strength rather than weakness, establishing a connection between filmmaker and viewer that on-demand platforms’ seamless experience actively undermines.

The permanence of physical media also tackles concerns about digital control. Unlike digital services that can remove content at will, modify it for current preferences, or simply discontinue service, a VHS tape resists remote modification or deleted. It exists as a unchanging record, immune to algorithmic suppression or institutional control. For an practitioner anxious about AI systems and algorithmic processes, this resistance to change carries particular significance. The tape becomes a time capsule of original creative work, protected from coming technological upheaval and corporate recalibration.

The Unusual Release Strategy

When dos Santos declared that This Is How the World Ends would be distributed solely on VHS, market commentators had trouble making sense of the choice. In an era when streaming platforms control how content reaches audiences and physical media has become largely obsolete, selecting a format that was discontinued in 2016 seems financially self-destructive. Yet dos Santos regards this apparent disadvantage as precisely the point. By intentionally restricting how audiences can obtain the film, he establishes an intentional barrier that divides passive audiences from committed fans in engaging with his work. This limited availability converts the viewing experience from inactive spectatorship into engaged involvement, requiring audiences to seek out the film with genuine intent rather than stumbling upon it through algorithmic recommendation.

The logistics of VHS delivery in the 21st century pose real challenges. Locating working VCRs has turned into a treasure hunt for most households, whilst producing blank tapes demands sourcing from specialist suppliers. Dos Santos acknowledges these obstacles openly, yet refuses to apologise for them. “I’m asking people to do a lot, but that’s what it means to be human,” he states. This approach goes beyond simple inconvenience; it constitutes a conscious refusal of seamless online platforms that place emphasis on convenience over genuine connection. The tangible process of placing an order for a cassette, locating a device, and threading the cassette transforms into a ritual that deepens the relationship between creator and audience.

• Requires audiences to actively seek out and purchase physical VHS tapes
• Eliminates automated recommendation systems and institutional digital control entirely
• Creates lasting, immutable copies protected from online alteration
• Establishes dedicated group of viewers demonstrating intentional dedication

Quality Compromises and Intentional Choices

A common misconception assumes that distributing on VHS means accepting diminished visual quality. In reality, dos Santos filmed This Is How the World Ends using modern digital filmmaking techniques, preserving beautiful HD details and contemporary production quality. The VHS format then serves as a deliberate translation layer, a ultimate aesthetic choice as opposed to a technical limitation resulting from budget limitations. This difference is important considerably—the filmmaker is not sacrificing his artistic vision out of need but rather choosing a specific delivery format that serves his thematic intentions. The imperfection of VHS becomes deliberate as opposed to unintentional.

This approach upends established beliefs about technical innovation. Rather than treating contemporary formats as inherently superior, dos Santos suggests that VHS’s apparent shortcomings—its grain, its color intensity, its tactile presence—provide aesthetic and philosophical value. The medium’s physical materiality counters the ethereal, infinitely reproducible nature of digital content. By choosing VHS, dos Santos expresses a position about authenticity and human creation in an age growing vulnerable by machine learning and algorithmic processes. The imperfect medium becomes a symbol of true human craft, preserving his vision against format degradation and commercial manipulation.