What’s up everybody, and welcome back to Friday Night Rentals—where the popcorn’s hot, the neon “open” sign is always glowing, and it’s always a good time to crack open another stack of VHS gems from the video‑store days. This week’s lineup runs from underdog comedies and oddball sci‑fi to buddy‑cop mayhem, teen adventures, and the kind of wild, only‑in‑the‑’80s experiments that made late‑night rentals legendary. So grab your membership card, get your favorite drink, and get ready to walk the aisles.
Mr. Mom (1983)
In Mr. Mom from 1983, Michael Keaton ditches the corporate world for chaos in the kitchen after a layoff forces him into stay‑at‑home‑dad duty. With Teri Garr balancing the other side of the household, this comedy turns diapers, laundry, and exploding appliances into his toughest job yet. Back in the early ’80s—long before the world saw Keaton as Batman or Beetlejuice—we got him as a frazzled suburban dad, and it’s still one of his funniest roles.
The setup is simple but brilliant: Jack Butler loses his job and the guy who once lived for corporate meetings and deadlines suddenly faces a new battlefield—laundry piles, vacuum cleaners, and diaper disasters. It’s a classic fish‑out‑of‑water comedy, and Keaton nails it with that mix of charm and manic energy.
What makes Mr. Mom so endearing is how it flips the gender roles of the time and finds genuine humor—not just a gimmick. In 1983, the idea of a dad staying home with the kids was almost radical, and the movie leans into it with slapstick and heart. Pairing Keaton with Teri Garr keeps everything grounded, and who could forget moments like the washing machine flooding the house or Jack navigating the supermarket with a cart full of chaos?
It wasn’t just a box‑office success—it became one of those VHS staples that lived in every family’s cabinet. It may not be a flashy cult film, but it’s comfort food for anyone who remembers when comedies could be silly, sweet, and just relatable enough to hit home without needing much more than that. My older family members loved it when I was a kid, and I loved watching it with them. Now, if Michael Keaton could juggle chaos at home, Goldie Hawn proved she could handle the gridiron just as well in this next rental classic.
Wildcats (1986)
1986’s Wildcats gives us Goldie Hawn as a football coach determined to prove she can lead the rowdiest team in town. With a young Wesley Snipes and Woody Harrelson suiting up, this scrappy sports comedy is all fumbles, laughs, and a little Friday‑night lights. If you want a quintessential underdog sports comedy, Wildcats is where you go.
Goldie Hawn takes the whistle, playing a determined coach who shocks everyone by taking charge of an inner‑city high‑school football team. You’ve got the misfit players, the grumpy administrators, and the rivalries—but Goldie’s energy makes the movie. She’s plucky, tough, and funny in equal measure, and she sells the idea that she can whip this ragtag crew into shape.
Here’s where it gets really fun: this was the film debut for both Wesley Snipes and Woody Harrelson. Seeing them side by side in their early days—before White Men Can’t Jump and all that came later—delivers a nostalgia blast worth the rental alone. The football scenes are scrappy and energetic, the comedy keeps things moving, and even if some ’80s clichés are baked right in, it fits the era’s love for sports comedies where the real victories happen off the field. It didn’t break box‑office records, but it became one of those Friday‑night cable or rental staples. By the end, you’ll probably be humming, “It’s the sport of kings, better than diamond rings,” whether you want to or not. Now let’s go from the football field to the computer lab, where love gets tangled in wires, keyboards, and a jealous AI crush.
Electric Dreams (1984)
Before smartphones ruled our lives, there was Electric Dreams: a quirky little romance about a man, his computer, and the girl next door. Starring Lenny Von Dohlen and Virginia Madsen, it’s a love triangle where the third wheel just happens to be a PC named Edgar.
There are “only in the ’80s” movies, and then there’s Electric Dreams—a film that asks, “What if your computer fell in love with your girlfriend?” Von Dohlen plays a shy architect, Madsen is the cellist next door, and Edgar the computer becomes an unlikely romantic rival. Long before our devices nagged us or Alexa eavesdropped, this was an early warning that technology might get a little too attached.
The film mixes romance, comedy, and a heavy dose of synth‑pop into something uniquely charming. Yes, the premise is bonkers—but that’s the appeal. This was the ’80s, where music montages could solve anything and machines had more personality than most sitcom characters. Virginia Madsen glows, Von Dohlen is perfectly awkward, and Edgar somehow steals the show, making you almost sympathize with his heartbreak—almost.
What really makes Electric Dreams stand out is its vibe: nostalgic visuals, an electronic soundtrack (including the hit “Together in Electric Dreams”), and a blend of goofy charm and techno‑paranoia that turns the film into a time capsule. It didn’t become a mainstream hit, but it has a devoted cult following. Watching it now feels like stepping into a dream of what the ’80s thought the future might look like. And if you thought a computer in love was strange, wait until you meet a wisecracking robot who just wants to stay alive.
Short Circuit (1986)
In Short Circuit, Ally Sheedy and Steve Guttenberg team up with Johnny Five, a wisecracking robot who escapes the military after discovering he’s “alive!” With lasers, laughs, and a heart bigger than his hard drive, this is peak ’80s family fun—and Johnny Five became a pop‑culture icon of the decade.
If any movie proved robots could be funny, adorable, and weirdly relatable, it’s Short Circuit—a film that took the E.T. template and ran in its own direction. Starring Ally Sheedy, Steve Guttenberg, and Fisher Stevens (in some very questionable casting by today’s standards), the real star is Johnny Five, a military robot zapped by lightning into sentience. With wide‑eyed wonder and a knack for wisecracks, he escapes his creators and sets off to discover life, love, maybe some robot booty, and a whole lot of “input.”
This is pure VHS gold. Johnny Five isn’t just a special effect; he’s a full‑on character packed with heart and humor. Scenes of him reading through piles of books, mimicking TV shows, or dancing around are still ridiculously charming. Of course, the military wants him back, adding just enough chase and tension to keep things moving between laughs.
Johnny Five left a major pop‑culture footprint. Kids adored him, catchphrases like “Number 5 is alive!” became playground staples, and the mix of slapstick and sentiment cemented the movie as one of the decade’s family favorites. Watching today, it’s hard not to root for this quirky little robot who just wanted to live, laugh, and maybe fire a few lasers for good measure. Speaking of unlikely duos, the next pick pairs an uptight fed with a rule‑breaking cop in a buddy‑action flick that’s been pretty much forgotten.
The Wild Pair (1987)
The Wild Pair throws Beau Bridges and Bubba Smith together as an odd‑couple team chasing down drug lords. It’s an action comedy packed with shootouts, car chases, and buddy‑cop banter—basically Lethal Weapon if you grabbed it off the rental shelf a few rows lower.
If the ’80s taught us anything, it’s that every oddball duo deserved a buddy‑cop movie—and The Wild Pair is Exhibit A. Bridges plays an FBI agent, Smith a tough narcotics cop, and the two are forced together to take down drug lords while clashing every step of the way. Bridges brings the straight‑man energy, while Smith oozes cool, tough‑guy charisma with the same lovable charm he brought to the Police Academy movies.
Is it groundbreaking? Far from it. But that’s part of the charm. It’s like finding a forgotten gem in the action section. I remember stumbling onto it on cable as a kid, excited to see Hightower as a full‑fledged cop. The shootouts are loud, the car chases messy, and the dialogue lands somewhere between serious thriller and accidental comedy. It never broke big in theaters, but became a cult rental for people who’d already seen Lethal Weapon five times and wanted something new for Friday night. Scrappy, rough around the edges, and exactly the kind of movie you’d pick up because the cover promised more explosions than the budget could deliver. From mismatched cops to mismatched kids, the next film shrinks the buddy formula for a big‑city adventure.
Big Shots (1987)
In Big Shots, a suburban kid teams up with a street‑smart hustler after tragedy strikes, leading them into a wild Chicago adventure. Starring Ricky Busker and Darius McCrary, it’s part Stand by Me, part 48 Hrs.—a buddy comedy‑drama with action, heart, and plenty of ’80s attitude.
Big Shots feels like someone threw a coming‑of‑age story and an action‑comedy into a blender. It follows a suburban kid, played by Busker, who runs away after losing his father and ends up teaming with a streetwise Chicago kid named Scam (McCrary). Together they stumble into gangsters, car chases, and a whole lot of danger while finding friendship and a little fun along the way—textbook ’80s teen cinema.
The charm comes from that mix of tones: one minute heavy with loss and heart, the next zany with kids outsmarting crooks—all with a dash of after‑school special. McCrary, who later became famous on Family Matters, steals the show as the savvy street kid, while Busker plays the wide‑eyed contrast perfectly. Critics didn’t know what to make of it and it was dismissed quickly, but on VHS and cable it had a second life. It’s the kind of movie kids rented because the cover looked cool, and parents rented because it seemed family‑friendly enough—only to realize it had more grit than expected. Looking back, it’s an ’80s time capsule: funny, awkward, heartfelt, and a little rough. If city kids had it tough, just wait until you see what happens when an alien crash‑lands in suburbia.
Mac & Me (1988)
Mac & Me tells the story of a wheelchair‑bound boy who befriends a lost alien—but let’s be honest, it’s remembered as the infamous E.T. knockoff that turned into one giant Coke and McDonald’s commercial, stitched together from recycled tropes and clichés.
Ah, Mac & Me—the movie that boldly asked: what if E.T. was made with way less subtlety, way more product placement, and a kid in a wheelchair? The story follows a young boy who befriends a stranded alien named MAC (which not‑so‑coincidentally stands for “Mysterious Alien Creature”). Together, they dodge government agents and try to reunite MAC with his family. Heartwarming, right? Well… kind of. I’m sure that was the intention.
What people really remember is the shameless corporate tie‑ins. This movie doesn’t just feature Coke and McDonald’s—it worships them. The infamous fast‑food dance party, where Ronald McDonald himself shows up, might be one of the most gloriously bizarre sequences in all of ’80s cinema. It’s so over‑the‑top that it’s crossed into cult status, with fans appreciating it for its unintentional comedy.
Here’s the thing: kids in the ’80s still loved it. I know I did—I made my aunt drive my friend and me to the theater to see it. The alien design is weirdly endearing, the friendship moments tug at the heart a little, and it delivered just enough of that E.T.‑adjacent magic to earn a spot on the rental shelf. Today, it’s a guilty‑pleasure classic—the kind of movie you throw on for laughs and nostalgia rather than deep storytelling. Its true legacy is being one of the strangest, most entertaining “bad” movies to ever hit VHS. From suburban strangeness to urban grit, our next stop takes us to the rooftops, where breakdancing is survival.
Rooftops (1989)
From the director of West Side Story comes part one of our Jason Gedrick double feature with Rooftops, a teen drama set in New York where kids dance, fight, and “combat” their way through survival. Half urban musical, half street thriller, it’s pure ’80s cheese‑wiz with a view from the fire escape.
Rooftops is a movie that could only exist at the tail end of the ’80s. This gritty teen drama follows a group of homeless New York kids who live on rooftops and fight in bizarre “dance combat” matches while battling everyday hardships. Yes, you read that right—street fighting as interpretive dance. Only in the ’80s, and only from director Robert Wise.
Jason Gedrick plays a street kid named T, caught between surviving the city and dreaming of something bigger. There are rival gangs, young love, and plenty of rooftop brooding. What makes it memorable isn’t just the melodrama (of which there is plenty), but the surreal blend of styles: half urban musical, half crime drama, with dialogue that veers between heartfelt and unintentionally hilarious.
It didn’t light up the box office, but my friends’ older sisters and other female friends were always watching it when it was on. And I’ll admit, as bad as it admittedly is, there’s something about its ambition that I appreciate. Like a lot of these picks, it found an audience on VHS with teens who craved something edgier than a John Hughes movie. Watching it now, Rooftops is a nostalgia‑soaked time capsule of late‑’80s urban storytelling—earnest, strange, and way more entertaining than it probably should be. While rooftop warriors dance‑battle, another hero—who looks oddly familiar—was ready to take flight by stealing a fighter jet.
Iron Eagle (1986)
Before Top Gun dominated the skies, Iron Eagle gave us the ultimate teenage wish‑fulfillment fantasy: Jason Gedrick as a kid who straight‑up steals a fighter jet to rescue his father from enemy territory. How does he pull it off? With a little help from Louis Gossett Jr., a killer mixtape, and ’80s movie logic that doesn’t sweat the details.
What makes Iron Eagle memorable is its scrappy underdog energy. It doesn’t have the sleek polish of Top Gun, but it makes up for it with heart, rock anthems blasting in the cockpit, and Gossett Jr. grounding the film with a commanding presence. For teens of the era, it was pure empowerment: if the adults won’t save your dad, grab some aviators, fire up the jet, and do it yourself.
It wasn’t a critical darling, but for me it was a routine rental and a frequent afternoon‑cable watch. It earned enough VHS love to spawn three sequels—each wilder and lower budget than the last. Today, Iron Eagle is a cult classic remembered less for realism and more for its attitude. Cheesy, over‑the‑top, and totally sincere about it—which is exactly why it works. From sky‑high dogfights, we land in a spy game gone wrong, where campus hijinks meet Cold War intrigue.
Gotcha! (1985)
In Gotcha!, Anthony Edwards stars as a college kid whose paintball hobby accidentally turns into real‑life espionage. One minute he’s winning campus games, the next he’s dodging spies, bullets, and Cold War intrigue across Europe alongside Linda Fiorentino.
If you ever wanted proof that the ’80s could turn literally anything into a spy thriller, look no further. Edwards plays Jonathan, a college kid obsessed with a campus game called “Gotcha!”—but what starts as harmless fun turns into international espionage when he gets tangled up with spies, femme fatales, and East‑West tensions in Berlin.
The fun of Gotcha! is how quickly it shifts gears. One minute Jonathan is bumbling through dates and college hijinks, the next he’s dodging bullets in East Berlin. The tonal whiplash is part of the appeal: goofy, tense, and romantic all at once. Fiorentino adds plenty of femme‑fatale flair, and Edwards plays the reluctant‑spy role with the right mix of charm and panic.
It didn’t make huge waves in theaters, but like many on this list it found new life on VHS. For kids who rented it, Gotcha! felt like a grown‑up adventure with just enough comedy to keep it accessible. Today, it’s a fun time capsule of Cold War paranoia mashed up with teen‑comedy energy—and honestly, it’s worth a rewatch just for the wild idea that campus paintball could somehow prep you for actual espionage.
Closing
And that wraps up another night at Friday Night Rentals. We’ve laughed at the comedies, marveled at the strange experiments, and maybe even rediscovered a few forgotten treasures hiding in the back of the shelves. Now it’s your turn—let me know which of tonight’s picks you would’ve rented first on a Friday night back in the day. If you’re enjoying this trip through the golden age of VHS, hit like, subscribe, and ring that bell so you don’t miss the next lineup. Until then, keep it rewound, keep it retro, and—until the next video—Movies Never Say Die!
Anthony J. Digioia II © 2025 SilverScreen Analysis & Movies Never Say Die