Some films want less to tell a story and more to capture the pulse of a place. Paradise Records does exactly that: it turns a record store (and the small crew hiding behind it) from a mere “subject” into almost a living character. Written, directed by, and starring Logic (Bobby Hall), this debut feature unfolds within the compressed “last day” feel of a single day, while constantly circling the same question in the background: Is what you’re trying to save really the building, or the life that has accumulated there?
One day, one store, an order shattering into a thousand pieces
The film’s starting point is deliberately simple and “small”: Store owner Cooper grapples with foreclosure pressure, shady buyers, and a chaotic robbery/hostage mess that trashes the place, all while trying to keep his odd but familiar crew afloat. As the Apple TV synopsis points out, the film sets this chaos to a “riotous, cameo-packed” comedy rhythm, aiming to stay in constant motion with its music selection and cameos.
A Pitchfork piece describes the escalating frenzy of the day—customer traffic, debt pressure, and the hostage situation—as a “hectic day,” with the characters carrying the tension of whether the store will close or not in the background.
The spirit of Clerks, the nostalgia of Empire Records, the tempo of the streaming era
Paradise Records wears its references openly: the Apple TV description explicitly places it in the lineage of Clerks, Friday, and Empire Records; the fact that Kevin Smith serves as executive producer almost formalises this family tree.
The key move here is to take the 90s “behind-the-counter banter” tradition and drop it into 2025—right in the middle of algorithms and fast consumption—as an analogue refuge. The record store is therefore not just décor: keeping the store alive means keeping the crew together; keeping the crew together means the characters finding a space where they can hold onto a sense of “us.”
The film’s real concern: “place” and identity
One of Pitchfork’s clearest points is the humour built through identity discussions (intertwined with Logic’s own public persona) and counter banter. The review notes that the story frequently circles issues of racial identity and belonging in Cooper’s world, and that the film’s comedy leans on these areas.
This sends Paradise Records oscillating between two poles:
On one side, a classic, almost warm community story of “saving the store,”
On the other, a sharper—and at times potentially contentious—comedy tone and the raw edge of the characters’ language.
Precisely for this reason, the film is not a comfort comedy for everyone. It appeals more to fans of messy but personal works: it’s not polished, not smooth; yet it leaks a DIY energy that feels somehow sincere.
Cast, cameos, and that crowded feeling
The Apple TV page highlights Reed Northrup, Tony Revolori, and Nolan North among the main cast, with names like Oliver Tree, Martin Starr, and Ron Perlman further down the list.
Pitchfork also mentions cameos by Juicy J and Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
This cameo structure reinforces the film’s “people constantly coming and going” hangout rhythm: the store functions, in a sense, as a stage that stays open all day.
Runtime and viewing
Runtime information varies slightly across platforms: Apple TV lists the film at 1 hour 48 minutes; some guides and listings show values like 1 hour 46 minutes.
For viewing, it appears to be available on Apple TV, with rental/purchase options varying by country.
A Note from Apartment No: 26: Who will watch this and say “yes, this is it”?
Paradise Records feels closer to those who love productions that don’t pretend to be “big films,” instead building a small universe and wandering around inside it. If you enjoy the behind-the-counter rhythm of Clerks, the store nostalgia of Empire Records, and that crowded feeling winking at music culture, the film might work for you as an “evening reset.”
But if you’re looking for tight action plotting, razor-sharp comedy engineering, or flawless script mathematics, the film deliberately doesn’t play that game. Paradise Records offers something else: when a place closes, it’s not just the shutter coming down; when a community scatters, what remains is a quiet emptiness.
