REVIEW: Hello, Bookstore

An image from the film Hello, Bookstore. It features a man (Matthew Tannenbaum) standing outside his bookshop.
Image Credit: Bulldog Film Distribution

(spoiler free)

At first glance Hello, Bookstore would simply appear to be a film about a small, struggling, local business, trying to survive the pandemic. And while this isn’t untrue of Adam Zax’s documentary, it’s also not really what the film’s about. This is just the blurb; designed to persuade audiences to take a chance on the more unhurried cinematic chapters of its true story. And take a chance on it audiences should, remembering never to judge a book by its cover, or in this instance, a film by its trailer.

Located in Lenox, Massachusetts, The Bookstore is a cherished sanctuary for all local lovers of literature. Owned and operated by Matthew Tannenbaum, with the help of his two daughters, this independent family business has been at the heart of its community for decades. And whilst a small part of this is no doubt due to its wide variety of books, and maybe a larger part to do with its in-shop wine bar, the film wastes no time in illuminating what’s more than likely to be the real reason for its popularity: the charismatic shopkeeper you’ll find behind the counter.

A less intuitive director would, and in much more conventional fashion, use their runtime to document the obvious underdog story to be found among the shelves of The Bookstore – perhaps this will be the case for a future dramatisation. But thankfully Zax isn’t interested in focusing on this less remarkable angle. Rather, and in demonstrating a crucial understanding of his subject, insightfully he chooses to spend his film simply enjoying the rich company of Tannenbaum, gently inviting his audience to do the same.

There are no talking head interviews here, as Zax favours the fly-on-the-wall style of filmmaking, albeit supported by some video diary style segments too. The result is a welcoming atmosphere that truly encourages viewers to settle into this cosy cinematic setting, as if they were sinking into an armchair in the very shop itself. During this visit audiences can also browse the shop’s many reading materials, as countless authors and titles decorate the borders and backgrounds of shots. They can pick up some further recommendations, as Tannenbaum peacefully reads excerpts from a collection of books throughout the film. But maybe most rewardingly, they have the chance to hear stories, not from the books on the shelves, but from the man who put them there. As Tannenbaum shares his passion for storytelling so openly, and at every chance he gets with all those who pass the threshold of his shop.

Recognising the value of being grounded in the moment, Zax has little concern for moving the documentary along with any kind of regimented direction. Instead, his deliberately relaxed approach creates an overwhelming sense of calm that allows audiences to appreciate all the charm of this idyllic setting. This comes with a rare and sustained sense of contentment that means no matter how many interactions between Tannenbaum and his customers are featured, the film never becomes tiresome. It couldn’t possibly when these exchanges are so deeply interesting, effortlessly funny and often times, genuinely sweet. It’s in these moments, rather than the more obvious story of the shop’s attempts to survive, where the film becomes its most immersive.

Although for those who crave that more focused view, Hello, Bookstore absolutely does document the more news-worthy side to its story too. It just doesn’t give it the same attention that it does the seemingly more insignificant, throwaway encounters. But these are the moments that make The Bookstore, and in turn Hello, Bookstore what they are, and in understanding this Zax fully conveys just how special this space, and countless others like it, are to us all.

Written by Hamish Calvert


★★★★★


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