Remember the 90s, when superhero movies were still figuring out what they wanted to be? Before the sleek, unified vision of X-Men or the cultural juggernaut of the MCU, there was “The Phantom” (1996) – a fascinating relic that demonstrates exactly why superhero cinema needed a complete overhaul.

In our latest episode, we venture deep into the jungle of Bengala with Billy Zane’s purple-spandexed hero as he pursues magical skulls, fights pirates, and somehow manages to keep a straight face while doing it all. The Phantom originated in comic strips back in 1936 – predating Superman and Batman – as the first true costumed hero. But what works on the newspaper page doesn’t always translate to the big screen, and this film struggles mightily with that translation.

Treat Williams steals every scene as villain Xander Drax, delivering deliciously campy line readings and creative murder methods (microscope eye-stabbing, anyone?) that suggest he understood exactly what kind of movie this should have been. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast – including a young Catherine Zeta-Jones – seems trapped in a more serious adventure that never quite takes flight. We analyze the film’s curious place in superhero movie evolution, sitting awkwardly between the camp of Batman Forever and the more grounded approach that would soon revolutionize the genre.

The Phantom provides an unintentionally hilarious time capsule of mid-90s filmmaking choices, from its Indiana Jones aspirations to its baffling mythology involving skull lasers and a wolf that can apparently communicate with horses. What went wrong? What occasional moments work? And why can’t we stop talking about that purple costume? Listen as we unpack this bizarre superhero curiosity that reminds us how far the genre has come.

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Dan: @shakybacon
Tony: @tonydczech

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Minecraft: The Movie had all the ingredients for disaster – a video game with no story, a director known for divisive comedies, and the challenge of bringing blocky visuals to life. Yet somehow, this cubic adventure emerges as one of the most genuinely entertaining family films of the year.

Jack Black brings manic energy as Steve, a doorknob salesman who discovers a portal to the Minecraft world and builds his own cubic paradise. When the evil Malgosia (played with delightful villainy) threatens to conquer this realm, Steve teams up with Garrett (Jason Momoa in what might be his most enjoyable role yet), a washed-up gamer who stumbles upon a mysterious artifact.

What makes Minecraft work isn’t its plot – which is paper-thin – but its commitment to embracing absurdity with open arms. Night comes every twenty minutes, characters craft elaborate structures with a single bang on a table, and physics operates on game logic rather than reality. Director Jared Hess (Napoleon Dynamite) fills every frame with visual gags and references that will delight fans without alienating newcomers.

The film’s standout moments include a flying sequence where Momoa instructs Black to “let my hips be your guide” while soaring through canyons, a wrestling match featuring the rare “chicken jockey” enemy, and perhaps the funniest villain death scene in recent memory involving multiple hidden knives. Jennifer Coolidge provides perfect comedic relief as a recently divorced school administrator who falls for one of the blocky villagers, believing his inability to speak means “he’s Swedish.”

Unlike many video game adaptations that struggle with their source material, Minecraft leans fully into what makes the game special – creativity, discovery, and the joy of building something from nothing. It’s a rollercoaster ride that prioritizes fun over logic, and it’s all the better for it.

Have you played Minecraft or watched the film? We’d love to hear your thoughts! Subscribe to the podcast for more discussions about surprising cinematic adventures that defy expectations.

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Dan: @shakybacon
Tony: @tonydczech

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When the Coen brothers parted ways after decades of collaboration, film fans wondered what their individual work might reveal about their creative dynamic. Drive Away Dolls, Ethan Coen’s first solo directorial effort, provides a fascinating if frustrating answer to that question.

This deep-dive episode explores how the absence of Joel’s balancing influence results in a film where Ethan’s stylistic tendencies become exaggerated to the point of self-parody. We analyze how the film’s inconsistent tone, from Margaret Qualley’s baffling Southern accent to the cartoon sound effects that punctuate scenes, creates a disjointed viewing experience where characters seem to exist in entirely different movies.

Through our conversation, we unpack why character relationships fall flat despite talented performers, how scenes lack proper setup and payoff, and why the film’s attempts at madcap comedy often miss their mark. We highlight Beanie Feldstein’s standout performance as the one consistently enjoyable element in an otherwise chaotic film.

Beyond mere criticism, our discussion examines the creative alchemy of successful partnerships and what happens when that balance is disrupted. We explore how the screenplay (reportedly written around 2000 and never updated) feels anachronistic in both humor and sensibilities, raising questions about creative decisions throughout production.

Whether you’re a Coen brothers aficionado curious about their separate trajectories or simply interested in the dynamics of creative collaboration, this episode offers thoughtful analysis on how even talented filmmakers sometimes need the right partnership to bring out their best work. The conversation serves as both a critique of Drive Away Dolls and a celebration of what made the Coen brothers’ joint filmography so special.

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Dan: @shakybacon
Tony: @tonydczech

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What happens when a self-referential slasher comedy can’t quite figure out what it wants to be? “Hell of a Summer,” the directorial debut from Finn Wolfhard and Billy Bryk, promised to do for summer camp slashers what “Scream” did for the entire genre – but stumbles in its execution despite some genuine bright spots.

This week, we dive into this curious $3 million indie horror comedy that follows Jason, a dedicated 24-year-old camp counselor who returns to Camp Pineway rather than pursuing a responsible legal career. When counselors start getting picked off by a killer in a devil mask, the film attempts to balance humor, horror, and character work with varying degrees of success. While the cinematography impresses throughout – especially considering the challenges of night shooting on a limited budget – the narrative and character development leave much to be desired.

The true revelation of the film is co-director Billy Bryk’s performance as Bobby, whose scene-stealing comedic moments provide the film’s biggest laughs and most memorable sequences. We break down why his character works so well while others (including Wolfhard’s own character) fail to make an impression. From puzzling killer motivations to inconsistent death scenes, we unpack where this promising concept went wrong while celebrating the moments where it actually delivers.

Whether you’re a horror fan curious about this new addition to the slasher comedy subgenre or just enjoy our dissections of films that don’t quite reach their potential, this episode offers plenty to sink your teeth into. Join us for a thoughtful, funny conversation about “Hell of a Summer” – a film that might not be great, but certainly gave us more to talk about than we expected.

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Dan: @shakybacon
Tony: @tonydczech

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What makes a psychological thriller truly captivating? In this episode, we crack open the vault to examine “The In Crowd,” a largely forgotten gem from 2000 that perfectly captures the post-Cruel Intentions era of teen psychological thrillers.

From the moment Adrian steps out of a psychiatric institution and into the pristine world of an exclusive country club, we’re drawn into a world of wealth, privilege, and deeply disturbing secrets. The film’s queen bee, Brittany, takes a suspicious interest in Adrian that goes far beyond simple friendship. As we discover, Adrian bears an uncanny resemblance to Brittany’s mysteriously absent sister – a coincidence that proves increasingly sinister as the story unfolds.

We unpack the film’s most memorable moments – from Adrian casually handling a venomous snake to the hilariously over-dramatic scooter accident that sends Kelly flying. While “The In Crowd” never reaches the erotic thriller heights of its contemporaries, it delivers surprising moments of genuine entertainment amid its predictable plot. The golf club murder scene, Simple Wayne’s disturbingly decorated mannequin, and Brittany’s masterful manipulation tactics provide fascinating glimpses into a thriller that could have been truly great with a few different creative choices.

What fascinated us most was the film’s missed opportunity to create genuine suspense by never making the audience question which character is truly unstable. Despite presenting Adrian as potentially unreliable due to her psychiatric history, the film immediately establishes Brittany as the true villain, removing any possible ambiguity that might have elevated the story.

Whether you’re revisiting this forgotten thriller or discovering it for the first time, join us for a deep dive into a movie that, despite its flaws, stands as a perfect time capsule of early 2000s psychological thrillers – complete with all the questionable fashion choices, flat lighting, and country club melodrama you could possibly want.

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Dan: @shakybacon
Tony: @tonydczech

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Ever wondered what happens when a $55 million budget collides with an incoherent script? Welcome to our horrified exploration of “In the Lost Lands,” quite possibly one of the worst movies ever committed to film.

Based on a George R.R. Martin short story (though you’d never guess it), this fantasy disaster stars Mila Jovovich as Gray Alice—an “illusionist witch” with unexplained face tattoos—and Dave Bautista as Boyce, a mysterious traveler with a cool two-headed snake that disappears from the plot almost immediately. We’re told there’s only one human city left after some apocalyptic event, yet somehow there’s a fully functional train, random barrels of oil, and endless nonsensical plot developments.

The film’s world-building crumbles under even the lightest scrutiny. Why are slaves mining rocks? How does the economy work? Why does everyone abandon executions before they’re complete? Nothing adds up, and the movie never bothers explaining itself. Meanwhile, characters develop romantic feelings out of nowhere, powers work differently in every scene, and the big twist—that Bautista’s character is actually the werewolf they’re hunting—is both obvious from the start and poorly executed.

What truly stuns us is how the film wastes its talented cast. Both Bautista and Jovovich have proven themselves capable actors, but here they deliver wooden performances with dialogue so bad that no performer could salvage it. One particularly egregious scene features Bautista’s painfully delivered line “What kind of God is this?”—a moment so poorly executed it becomes unintentionally hilarious.

If you enjoy dissecting cinematic disasters or have a high tolerance for absolute nonsense dressed up as fantasy, join us for this brutal breakdown of a film that somehow manages to fail at every fundamental aspect of storytelling. We promise you’ll never look at werewolves, illusionists, or two-headed snakes the same way again.

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Dan: @shakybacon
Tony: @tonydczech

And follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT

An astronaut floating alone six months into a year-long mission. A mysterious alien spider that appears out of nowhere. A marriage crumbling across the vast emptiness of space. Netflix’s “Spaceman” promised profound cosmic revelations but delivered a beautiful yet frustratingly hollow meditation on human connection.

Adam Sandler stars as Jakob, a Czech astronaut studying a mysterious cloud near Jupiter while his pregnant wife Lenka (Carey Mulligan) contemplates leaving him back on Earth. When a giant talking spider named Hanuš (voiced by Paul Dano) materializes on his spacecraft, Jakob embarks on a psychological journey through memories and regrets rather than the stars. The film tantalizes with visual splendor – the zero-gravity sequences alone showcase remarkable technical achievement – but ultimately fails to answer its own existential questions.

What makes “Spaceman” so frustrating is how close it comes to profundity. Adapted from Jaroslav Kalfař’s novel “Spaceman of Bohemia,” the film strips away crucial context that would have heightened the stakes. In the book, Jakob’s mission is explicitly suicidal, a redemptive sacrifice to restore his family’s honor after his father’s disgrace as a government informant. Without this framework, Jakob’s journey feels aimless, his relationship problems trivial compared to the cosmic scale of his surroundings.

The film’s greatest strength lies in its willingness to embrace ambiguity – is the spider real or a manifestation of Jakob’s lonely mind? Does the mysterious cloud contain universal wisdom or merely reflect our own projections? Yet this same ambiguity becomes its downfall when extended to character motivations and narrative purpose. By the time Jakob reaches his emotional epiphany, we’ve spent too little time understanding who he was before to appreciate who he’s become.

Have you ever felt disconnected from someone you love despite being physically close? How would that feeling magnify across millions of miles of empty space? Watch “Spaceman” for its visual poetry and committed performances, but prepare for an emotional journey that, like its protagonist, never quite reaches its destination.

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Dan: @shakybacon
Tony: @tonydczech

And follow the podcast on IG: @hatewatchingDAT

When Joey, a seemingly ordinary window cleaner played by Daisy Ridley, reports for her night shift at a towering London skyscraper, she has no idea she’s about to be thrust into a deadly game of survival. As she dangles precariously outside the building’s glass exterior, a sophisticated group of eco-terrorists infiltrates a corporate gala inside, taking hostages and making demands that blur the line between justice and vengeance.

Cut off from help and with only her wits and climbing skills to rely on, Joey becomes the unexpected wild card in a high-stakes confrontation that grows more morally complex by the minute. The terrorists, led by a charismatic activist played briefly by Clive Owen, aren’t just seeking ransom – they’re exposing horrific environmental crimes committed by the very executives now held hostage. As corporate secrets bubble to the surface, Joey must decide whether she’s fighting to save the innocent or protecting the guilty.

“Cleaner” delivers heart-pounding vertical action sequences while forcing viewers to question their own moral compasses. When the terrorists reveal that the corporation has silenced whistleblowers through murder, the traditional lines between hero and villain begin to dissolve. Joey’s struggle isn’t just about physical survival – it’s about navigating an ethical minefield where doing the right thing becomes increasingly unclear.

The film challenges conventional action thriller formulas by presenting antagonists with legitimate grievances and protagonists with questionable motives. As Joey fights to protect her vulnerable brother caught in the chaos, she must also confront uncomfortable truths about the powerful people she’s trying to save. In a world where corporate crimes often go unpunished, “Cleaner” asks: Who are the real terrorists, and what price are we willing to pay for justice?

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Dan: @shakybacon
Tony: @tonydczech

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Professional wrestling blurs the lines between reality and entertainment, but 1989’s “No Holds Barred” obliterates them completely. We journey into the bizarre world of Hulk Hogan’s first starring film role and discover a movie that doesn’t just feature wrestling—it creates an entire universe where wrestling is the world.

The premise seems straightforward: Hulk plays Rip, a wrestling superstar pursued by unscrupulous network executive Brill (Kurt Fuller) who creates his own violent wrestling program featuring the monstrous Zeus (Tiny Lister) after Rip rejects his blank check offer. But what unfolds is a baffling cinematic experience where normal societal rules don’t apply, character motivations make no sense, and the primary trait identifying villains is their mistreatment of women.

We analyze the strange production choices throughout—from awkward ADR and slow fight choreography to confusing scene transitions and inexplicable character decisions. Yet amidst the chaos, certain moments achieve an accidental brilliance, like the infamous bathroom scene featuring a chained dog that provides one of the film’s few genuine laughs. The movie culminates with Hulk essentially murdering two people on live television to audience applause, cementing our view that Rip might actually be the villain of his own story.

What makes “No Holds Barred” particularly fascinating is its behind-the-scenes story. Vince McMahon and Hulk Hogan themselves reportedly rewrote the entire script over a brief period, explaining why Brill seems modeled after McMahon’s own public persona. The result is a film that serves as both a bizarre cultural artifact and a cautionary tale about wrestling’s difficult transition to conventional narrative filmmaking.

Whether you’re a wrestling fan curious about this strange chapter in Hulkamania history or a bad movie enthusiast looking for your next bewildering watch, join us as we bodyslam this cinematic oddity and somehow find genuine entertainment in its spectacular failure.