What’s happening, everybody? Welcome to the very first episode of Friday Night Rentals. If you guys grew up in the ’80s, you know the deal. Friday night meant hitting the video store, roaming the aisles, and arguing with your friends or family over which stack of tapes would get you through the weekend. It wasn’t just about the movies — it was about the ritual, the box art, the over-the-top taglines, the adventure, and yes, even the smell of the plastic VHS cases.
In this series, we’re dusting off those old shelves to revisit forgotten gems, cult classics, and the “what were they thinking?” titles that defined an era of home video. I’ll cover 10 movies in each episode that made weekends legendary. So grab your membership card, rewind your tapes, and let’s dive into 10 rentals from the 1980s that deserve another spin. This is nostalgia. This is VHS gold. This is Friday Night Rentals.
Masters of the Universe (1987)
In 1987 Cannon Films would give us Masters of the Universe. A gloriously weird mix of sword-and-sorcery and ’80s cheese. Dolph Lundgren flexed his way through this one as He-Man, Frank Langella stole the show as Skeletor, and somehow Courteney Cox got caught in the middle. It’s part fantasy epic, part fish-out-of-water comedy, and all pure VHS spectacle.
Now Masters of the Universe was supposed to be the movie that turned Saturday morning cartoons into big-screen magic. What we actually got was Dolph Lundgren as He-Man wandering around… Earth. Courteney Cox before Friends pops in, and Frank Langella chews scenery as Skeletor like it was a five-course meal. And you know what? For a kid grabbing this off the rental shelf, it was pure gold. Sure, Eternia looked suspiciously like California, and the special effects ranged from “not bad” to “was that a flashlight?” But none of that mattered on a Friday night with friends, a slice of pizza, and a cold Mtn. Dew.
Looking back, the movie was part of Cannon Films’ wild gamble to crack the mainstream, and while it didn’t exactly dethrone Star Wars, it carved out a cult following. Frank Langella has even admitted he loved playing Skeletor, and it shows — he brings Shakespeare-level intensity to a role that could’ve just been cackling in a mask. For fans, the movie is less about being faithful to the toys and more about embodying that “anything goes” energy of ’80s cinema.
It may not be high art, but it’s got heart, camp, and the kind of earnestness that makes it impossible not to smile at. Solidifying itself as a time capsule of the era when toy commercials could become entire blockbusters.
Skin Deep (1989)
John Ritter in a sex comedy about midlife crisis? That’s Skin Deep, a 1989 Blake Edwards comedy that asked, “What if Three’s Company went completely off the rails?” With Ritter juggling exes, girlfriends, and bedroom hijinks. It’s both raunchy, oddly sweet, and very much a time capsule of late ’80s comedy.
By 1989, John Ritter had already earned his place in TV history as the lovable goofball from Three’s Company. But in Skin Deep, he took things in a raunchier direction — playing a womanizing novelist whose personal life is as messy as a dorm room VCR collection. For anyone renting this back in the late ’80s, it was a little jarring to see Ritter trade slapstick for bedroom disasters, but that’s also what made it fun. It wasn’t just Jack Tripper tripping over a couch; it was Ritter fumbling through midlife crisis, awkward relationships, and yes — the now infamous glow-in-the-dark condom duel.
The movie lives in that space where late ’80s comedies tried to balance heartfelt lessons with outrageous gags. Some of it lands, some of it feels dated, but Ritter’s charm keeps it afloat with ease. He manages to make even the most absurd moments relatable, reminding us why he was such a beloved presence on screen and a comedic force of nature. For many, this was a rental you didn’t admit to watching with the family, but it definitely circulated on Friday nights for anyone in the mood for something a little spicier than Weekend at Bernie’s.
Looking back, Skin Deep isn’t a classic, but it’s a time capsule — the kind of movie that dared to push boundaries while still keeping one foot in sitcom territory. It may not be Ritter’s defining role, but it’s proof that he could carry a film, even one with glow sticks in the wrong places.
Elvira: Mistress of the Dark (1988)
Cassandra Peterson takes her campy TV horror host persona to the big screen with Elvira: Mistress of the Dark. Equal parts spooky and silly, it follows Elvira inheriting a creepy mansion in a conservative town, unleashing chaos, cleavage, and a killer casserole. Think Bewitched meets rock ’n’ roll Halloween.
In 1988, Elvira burst out of the late-night TV screen and into small-town America with Elvira: Mistress of the Dark. Cassandra Peterson brought her campy, sassy horror-host persona to the big screen, trading the gothic glamour of her TV show for a full-length story about inheriting a creepy mansion and accidentally shaking up a very conservative town. For anyone renting this back then, it was a delightful mix of horror, comedy, and just the right amount of cleavage-fueled chaos.
What makes Elvira so memorable isn’t just the jokes or the slightly absurd plot — it’s Peterson herself. She walks that line between spooky and ridiculous with total confidence, turning even the most outlandish scenarios into a performance you can’t look away from. The townspeople may be uptight, but the movie doesn’t take itself seriously, which is exactly why it works. You can almost imagine kids on Friday nights watching it in the dark, whispering “she’s not real… right?” while secretly loving every second.
Pop culture-wise, Elvira cemented the character as a symbol of ’80s camp and Halloween celebration, influencing everything from costumes to late-night horror hosting for years to come. It’s not just a movie — it’s a reminder of a time when horror and comedy could collide in bright, ridiculous, and utterly entertaining ways. Watching it now, it’s impossible not to smile at the charm, the sass, and the sheer audacity of it all.
Popeye (1980)
Yes, before Robin Williams wore a Mrs. Doubtfire mask, he strapped on giant forearms to play the spinach-guzzling sailor in Robert Altman’s Popeye. Shelley Duvall is perfect as Olive Oyl, and the movie is as strange and offbeat as the comic strips it’s based on. It’s a musical oddity — and an unforgettable one.
Before Robin Williams became the genie, Mrs. Doubtfire, or the inspirational teacher who made us stand on desks, he was Popeye — giant forearms, squinty eye, and all. Robert Altman’s Popeye from 1980 was one of those rentals you grabbed out of sheer curiosity. Was it a comedy? A musical? A live-action cartoon? The answer is yes… and also kind of “what on earth did I just watch?”
Williams, in his first film role, throws himself into the sailor persona with mumbled lines and plenty of “I yam what I yam,” while Shelley Duvall might be the most perfectly cast Olive Oyl imaginable. The songs are quirky, the sets look like they were built from driftwood and spare paint, and the whole thing feels less like a blockbuster and more like an oddball stage play that somehow wound up on VHS.
For kids, it was strange but fascinating — the kind of movie you couldn’t stop watching even if you weren’t sure you liked it. For adults, it’s become a cult curiosity, remembered as much for its ambition as for its bizarre execution. Pop culture-wise, Popeye never hit the heights of other comic strip adaptations, but it showed that Robin Williams was destined for bigger things. Looking back, it’s a weird, lovable relic of the era — the kind of tape you found in the “family” section and rented once, if only to see Robin Williams sing about spinach.
The Wraith (1986)
Charlie Sheen stars in this supernatural car-revenge flick where a murdered teen comes back as a mysterious driver with a turbo-charged, otherworldly Dodge. Toss in Sherilyn Fenn, Clint Howard, and plenty of neon-lit desert races, and you’ve got one of the wildest “ghost car” movies the ’80s ever produced.
If you rented The Wraith in 1986, chances are you didn’t fully know what you were getting into — and that was half the fun. The cover art promised muscle cars, neon lights, and something supernatural, and the movie delivered all of that with a dash of Charlie Sheen for good measure. The story follows a teen who’s murdered by a desert gang and comes back from the dead, reincarnated as a mysterious driver behind the wheel of a sleek, otherworldly Dodge Turbo Interceptor. Think Fast & Furious meets Poltergeist, but with way more Clint Howard hair.
The movie is part revenge thriller, part sci-fi fantasy, and part car commercial. Every race feels like it was filmed just for the VHS trailer reel, and honestly, that’s what makes it so fun. Back in the rental days, this was the perfect pick for teens looking for something edgy but not too heavy — fast cars, revenge, and a supernatural twist you could talk about at school on Monday.
Over time, The Wraith has carved out cult status. It’s remembered less for its plot coherence and more for its vibe: desert highways lit in neon, a killer soundtrack, and a sense of stylish weirdness that screams mid-’80s cinema. It’s not perfect, but like a souped-up car, it doesn’t have to be — it just has to look cool when it blasts past you.
The Garbage Pail Kids Movie (1987)
Trading cards were gross enough, but then came The Garbage Pail Kids Movie. This fever dream features rubber-faced puppet abominations trying to fit in with humans. It’s part musical, part moral lesson, and all nightmare fuel. Chances are, if you saw it as a kid, you’re still traumatized.
If you grew up with the gross-out trading cards, you probably thought The Garbage Pail Kids Movie would be the ultimate rental. Instead, it turned into the kind of VHS you watched once, then hid in the back of the shelf like a family secret. The story follows a group of deformed, rubber-faced puppets trying to survive in the human world, and while it’s pitched as a wacky adventure, it mostly plays like nightmare fuel with a theme song.
For kids, it was both fascinating and disturbing — those costumes looked like they were built in someone’s garage, and the expressions never changed, which made them weirdly terrifying. Adults renting it probably wondered how this ever got past a pitch meeting. And yet, there’s something strangely admirable about how unapologetically odd it is.
Pop culture-wise, the movie bombed, but it remains infamous — the kind of thing people whisper about when listing the strangest adaptations of all time. If nothing else, Garbage Pail Kids proves that not every toy or trading card deserves a movie, but every movie deserves at least one confused rental.
Heat (1986)
Now, don’t confuse this one with the Al Pacino and Robert De Niro Heat from the ’90s. This Heat came first, in 1986, and starred none other than Burt Reynolds — mustache still intact, charm set to maximum. Here, Burt plays Nick Escalante, a Las Vegas “chaperone” who’s basically a bodyguard-for-hire with a soft spot for damsels in distress and a knack for making bad guys regret their career choices.
The movie has that classic VHS shelf appeal: a grizzled Burt in a leather jacket, a title that promises action, and a tagline that whispers danger. But Heat isn’t just about barroom brawls and Burt flexing his cool factor. It’s a slower burn — more character study than straight-up action romp — which probably threw off a few weekend renters who just wanted car chases and explosions. Instead, you get Burt playing poker, navigating Vegas lowlifes, and unleashing sudden bursts of violence that remind you, oh right, this guy was Smokey and the Bandit.
Looking back, it feels like one of those “transition” films for Reynolds, sitting between his lighthearted comedies and his grittier tough-guy roles. While it didn’t set the box office on fire, it became one of those tapes you’d stumble across on the rental shelf, think “Why not?” and then spend the weekend feeling like you discovered a hidden Burt gem. Not his most famous outing, but definitely one that earns its spot in the nostalgia bin.
Private Resort (1985)
Before Johnny Depp was Captain Jack, he was just a horny teenager running around Private Resort. Alongside Rob Morrow, Depp schemes his way through a Florida getaway filled with bikini-clad chaos. It’s the kind of teen sex comedy that defined the ’80s, complete with slapstick, bad decisions, and questionable fashion.
Before Johnny Depp was sailing the high seas as Captain Jack Sparrow, he was, believe it or not, chasing girls around a Miami hotel in Private Resort. Released in 1985, this was Depp’s first real starring role, and let’s just say it wasn’t exactly Oscar bait. Teaming up with Rob Morrow, the duo plays two buddies spending a weekend at a luxury resort where the only mission is simple: meet women, avoid trouble, repeat. Of course, trouble finds them anyway in the form of mistaken identities, jewel thieves, and slapstick chaos.
This movie is pure 1980s teen comedy energy, living somewhere between Porky’s and Spring Break. It’s silly, raunchy, and about as subtle as a water balloon to the face — but that’s the charm. Back in the rental days, you could almost hear the VHS box whisper: “Parents out of town? This one’s for you.”
While critics didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet, Private Resort has a goofy charm, especially now that it’s retroactively funny seeing Johnny Depp in such a lightweight romp before he became Hollywood royalty. It’s the kind of movie that probably never played on TV much, which made renting it feel a little bit like you were in on a secret. For fans of ’80s comedies, it’s a reminder that not every movie needed depth — sometimes you just needed a goofy weekend escape with a side of neon swimsuits.
A Fish Called Wanda (1988)
Jamie Lee Curtis, Kevin Kline, John Cleese, and Michael Palin headline this British-American heist comedy about jewel thieves double-crossing each other in hilarious ways. A Fish Called Wanda is sharp, witty, and unpredictable — with Kline’s Oscar-winning performance proving that stupidity can be genius.
When A Fish Called Wanda hit shelves in 1988, it wasn’t your typical weekend rental comedy. Sure, it had laughs, but it also had a clever heist plot, a cast stacked with talent, and enough British wit to make you feel a little smarter while you were chuckling. Starring John Cleese, Jamie Lee Curtis, Kevin Kline, and Michael Palin, the movie follows a diamond heist gone sideways, with double-crosses, backstabbing, and a whole lot of awkward romance.
Jamie Lee Curtis plays the sharp and seductive Wanda, Kevin Kline steals scenes as the dim but dangerously unpredictable Otto, and Cleese delivers one of his best post-Monty Python performances as a barrister caught in the chaos. Kline even walked away with an Academy Award for his role — not something you see every day from a VHS comedy rental.
What made A Fish Called Wanda stand out back then, and still today, is how it balanced screwball humor with clever writing. You got slapstick gags (poor Michael Palin’s constant run-ins with animals), witty dialogue, and moments that bordered on farce, all while keeping the story tight. For a Friday night rental, it offered laughs that landed just as well for teens sneaking in a late-night watch as they did for parents who claimed they just “wanted something light.”
Over the years, it’s aged like fine wine, and if you ever wanted proof that comedies could be both smart and hilarious, Wanda is the tape you’d point to on the shelf.
Out of Bounds (1986)
Anthony Michael Hall takes a break from being the nerdy kid in Breakfast Club to star in this teen-thrown-into-the-underworld thriller. After arriving in L.A., he gets mixed up with drugs, gangsters, and a whole lot of danger. It’s a gritty departure for Hall — part crime flick, part fish-out-of-water adventure.
If you wandered into a video store in the late ’80s and saw Out of Bounds on the shelf, you might’ve thought: “Wait, that’s Anthony Michael Hall, but he’s not being a nerd?” And you’d be right. Fresh off his Breakfast Club fame, Hall took a hard left turn into action-thriller territory with this 1986 flick, playing a small-town farm kid who accidentally stumbles into a Los Angeles drug deal gone horribly wrong. Next thing you know, he’s on the run, framed for murder, and being hunted by both drug dealers and the cops.
The movie is like a time capsule of mid-’80s L.A. — neon lights, shady nightclubs, and a city that looks just as dangerous as it does cool. It’s part chase movie, part fish-out-of-water story, and part attempt to rebrand Hall as something more than John Hughes’ go-to awkward teen. And while the box office didn’t exactly buy into the transformation, Out of Bounds found its way into rental racks where curious fans of Hall could see their favorite “geek” suddenly outrunning bad guys and dodging bullets.
Looking back, it’s the kind of oddball career move that makes perfect sense in the VHS era. It might not have launched Hall into action stardom, but it gave us a gritty little cult movie that’s fun to revisit. If nothing else, it’s proof that in the ’80s, even the nerdiest kid in school could be one bad weekend away from becoming an action hero.
Closing
And that’s a wrap on our very first stack of Friday Night Rentals! Hopefully this trip down the VHS aisle brought back some memories of sticky carpets, rewinding tapes, and arguing over who got to pick the movie first. Whether you rediscovered a cult classic, added a forgotten flick to your watchlist, or just enjoyed the ride, that’s what this series is all about — celebrating the magic of Friday nights at the video store. Don’t forget, this is just the beginning; we’ve got plenty more ’80s gems lined up for the next episode. So be kind, rewind, hit that like button, and don’t forget to subscribe so you don’t miss the next batch of rentals. Until then, I’ll see you next Friday night at the video store.
Anthony J. Digioia II © 2025 SilverScreen Analysis & Movies Never Say Die
