Enter the horror room, where limbs are suspended from flesh hooks, blood drips down the walls and a skeleton hangs from a chain.
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On the top shelf, a row of soft core porn films sit beyond the reach of curious children.
Exit the horror room at Video Vision in Balaclava and you'll see the "chick flick" and "dick flick" (think Chuck Norris) sections, cheekily arranged side-by-side so couples can hold hands while perusing the DVDs.
The rental outlet stocked an astounding range of art house and foreign films among its 65,000 titles, which also included mainstream films and television shows.
But after 18 years in business, the store's owner, Eddy Stefani, has called it quits. Video Vision has become another casualty of the streaming TV and film era.
"This is such a happy place for me," he says. "I honestly feel I have to take some time off to mourn. It's like a death for me."
Mr Stefani has loved the relationships with loyal customers, sourcing obscure titles and the dedicated staff, many of whom have worked at the store for years.
There were many regulars, including one old man who visited so often he racked up about 7000 hires over the years.
The irreverent noticeboard in the window was itself an attraction. It featured bizarre photographs, such as family portraits with parents inexplicably cradling firearms in one hand and a baby in the other.
The staff are dedicated film lovers, including one employee who writes movie reviews for Melbourne publications. Another worker was a documentary maker.
Craig Martin, who worked at the store for about six years, is writing his PhD thesis on the history of evil children in films.
He says the store operated on a "democratic laissez-faire" workplace structure. "All the staff seemed to act like they owned the place," he says.
They loved recommending films to customers, hoping to expand their range of cinematic experiences.
Mr Martin says that during the store's peak it needed four people working at weekends to cope with the queues. "Working here on a Saturday night going back as little as three years ago the place would be jumping," he says.
Mr Martin describes the Netflix streaming phenomenon as "beigeification", because those online services are not geared towards stocking beautiful but obscure foreign cinema.
He believes a specialty bottle shop will take over the property. "There's a real concern this is going to become more like Acland Street; a corporatised area that has lost its soul."
