Zoolander (2001): Ridiculously Good Looking, Occasionally Problematic

This week we’re strutting down the runway with Zoolander (2001). Ben Stiller directs and stars as Derek Zoolander, a sweet, possibly dim, three-time Male Model of the Year who gets dethroned by the younger, hotter Hansel (Owen Wilson). Add Will Ferrell as the unforgettable Mugatu, Christine Taylor, Milla Jovovich, David Duchovny, and a David Bowie walk-off, and you’ve got one of the most quotable comedies of the early 2000s. We talk about why this movie did not get the box office love it deserved (the release timing was brutally unlucky), what it gets right about aging out of the thing you built your identity on, and why we think it’s secretly a pet movie with serious golden retriever energy. We also dig into the found family at its heart, the improv that made the final cut, a few facts about the VH1 Fashion Awards cameos, and the Ben Stiller family business. We also get honest about the parts that haven’t aged well, including the use of the R-word and some jokes that land very differently 25 years later. Then we put it through the Stitch Count, and the score surprised us. Did it earn a perfect 9/9? You’ll have to listen to find out.

Whether you’re in pre-med to save lives or just morbidly obsessed with death, this week on Cozy Quilt Cinema, Beth and Michelle tackle Flatliners (1990), Joel Schumacher’s thriller about five Chicago medical students who stop their hearts to see what lies beyond death. Each one comes back followed by the worst thing they ever did. Oliver Platt, who has never done anything wrong, mostly watches. As our final movie of Supertobertacular 2026, our spooky month of not-so-scary movies, this one lands on the least scary end. With Kiefer Sutherland, Julia Roberts, Kevin Bacon, William Baldwin, and Oliver Platt, we expected more than a very gothic Loyola University and a lot of synth music. We talk bad science, defibrillators that don’t work that way, ghost kids, guilt, bullying, and what forgiveness really means. The final Stitch Count is 5 out of 9. Julia Roberts deserved a bigger role, but the Tremors Index still gave us a win.

We’re deep into Supertobertacular, our all-month run of not-so-scary movies, arranged from the not-so-scary to the mostly not-so-scary. This week we’re knocking on the very breathy door of Robert Wise’s classic haunted house film, The Haunting (1963). Dr. Markway wants proof of the supernatural, so he gathers a few guests with brushes with the paranormal at Hill House. The house quickly decides it only cares about Eleanor, a shy, lonely woman who spent her adult life caring for her mother. Julie Harris leads the cast as Eleanor, alongside Claire Bloom as the cool and perceptive Theodora, with Richard Johnson, Russ Tamblyn, and a very tuned-in house. Beth first saw this at around seven years old, peeking around a corner while her mom watched, and it has stuck with her ever since. We talk about why it still works with no CGI at all: the door that breathes, the chalk writing on the wall, and a score so loud it’s practically a character. We get into how doors and statues do their scary work while the camera politely looks away, the wallpaper face, and why Eleanor’s inner monologue never stops. We also compare Shirley Jackson’s novel The Haunting of Hill House with the 1999 remake and Mike Flanagan’s series, and talk about the shy, lonely caretaker at the center of it all. Plus a very cozy discussion of fear, adrenaline, and why autumn is the perfect time to get a little spooked from the safety of the blanket fort.

It's week two of our Supertobertacular! All month long, we're celebrating Halloween with our picks of not-so-scary movies, ranging from the least scary to, well, not-so-scary. This week, we're digging up Dark Shadows (2012), Tim Burton's gothic soap opera turned vampire comedy, starring Johnny Depp, Michelle Pfeiffer, Eva Green, and Helena Bonham Carter. Barnabas Collins has spent 200 years in a coffin, only to wake up in 1972 to discover that his family's fortune is gone, his mansion is falling apart, and the witch who cursed him is still holding a grudge. Also, lava lamps are apparently terrifying. Beth and Michelle get into the Tim Burton Parallelogram (you know, Burton, Depp, Bonham Carter, and Danny Elfman), the surprisingly elaborate cannery dispute masquerading as a supernatural love story, and the questionable medical qualifications of a psychiatrist who apparently knows her way around a pipette. Along the way, we talk about the movie's gorgeous gothic aesthetic, its gloriously dysfunctional family, Eva Green's spectacularly obsessive Angelique, and why this film might be better than we remembered. We also wonder whether a ghost is really that impressive when the rest of your family includes a vampire and a werewolf. Is Dark Shadows an overlooked bit of Burton brilliance, a campy mess, or a little of both? And how does it fare when we put it through our Stitch Count? Grab your favorite haunted heirloom coverlet, crawl into the blanket fort, and join us for a little witchcraft, a little bloodwork, and an awful lot of cheese.

Welcome to week one of Supertobertacular, Cozy Quilt Cinema’s all-month celebration of not-so-scary movies. We start with the least spooky of the spookies and work our way up to the spookiest ones we can tolerate (Michelle is a weenie, and she’s not sorry). First up is Teen Witch (1989), the cult classic every Gen X girl swears she watched on HBO. Louise Miller is 15, invisible at school, and hopelessly in love with football star Brad Powell. Then a bike accident leads her to Madame Serena’s door, where she learns she’s the reincarnation of a witch born in 1636 and her powers arrive on her 16th birthday. She uses them for popularity, revenge, and a love spell, and finds out magic can’t give her the one thing she actually wants. Fair warning, there is no Halloween in this Halloween-month movie, there is a LOT of saxophone, and Michelle is recording through a very rough week of grape-related regret. Grab your patchwork counterpane, climb into the blanket fort, and join us for the rap that launched a thousand Gen X memories.

It's our 100th episode, and somehow no movie fits that milestone better than Fried Green Tomatoes. This week in the Blanket Fort, Beth and Michelle dig into John Avnet's 1991 classic starring Kathy Bates, Jessica Tandy, Mary Stuart Masterson, Mary-Louise Parker, and Cicely Tyson, the story of a stifled Birmingham housewife, a nursing home friendship, and the Depression-era love story of Idgie and Ruth that changes everything. We talk grief, growing older, invisibility, chosen family, and what it means to finally find your inner Towanda. We also get into the film's handling of race, the novel's more explicit love story, and why Jessica Tandy earned her Oscar nomination at 82. This one got a perfect 9/9 score on our Stitch Count.    How would you rate Fried Green Tomatoes? A hundred episodes means a hundred conversations, and we've gotten to have a lot of them with people we love. Thank you to Bri Castellani, who helped build the DNA of this show with the test that still bears her name. To Pat Green, who's been in the fort so many times he probably knows where we keep the spare blankets. To Allaina Humphreys, who introduced us to a book we never would have picked up on our own. And to Polly Schattel, who brought a filmmaker's eye and a friend's heart to every conversation. This one's for all of you, and for everyone who's been curled up in the Blanket Fort with us along the way.

Grab your Nan's afghan and get in the blanket fort, because this week Cozy Quilt Cinema is diving into Blow Dry (2001), the bittersweet British hairdressing comedy you didn't know you needed. Set against the backdrop of the national hairdressing championships in a small Yorkshire town, retired stylist Phil Allen (Alan Rickman) is pulled back into competition when his estranged ex wife Shelly reveals she's dying of cancer, and the only thing that can bring their fractured family back together is one last shot at the trophy. Michelle and Beth break down the film's wild tonal swing from cheesy Baz Luhrmann style spectacle to genuine, tender family drama, plus the surprisingly stacked supporting cast (Rachel Griffiths, Josh Hartnett, Bill Nighy, and a scene stealing Heidi Klum). We talk sabotage combs, kisses over corpses, and why a movie packed with this much chaos somehow still finds its heart. Stick around for our Stitch Count rating and find out if this cozy comfort watch earns its spot on the shelf. Perfect for fans of Strictly Ballroom, feel good British comedies, and stories about chosen family finding their way back to each other.

Clueless (1995) is Amy Heckerling's Beverly Hills retelling of Jane Austen's Emma, and it's still changing how we talk. This week in the Blanket Fort, Beth and Michelle take on the question: is Cher Horowitz really clueless, or is she sheltered, sharp, and thoughtful? We follow Cher (Alicia Silverstone) as she plays Cupid for two of her teachers to raise her grades, gives new girl Tai (Brittany Murphy) a full makeover, and finally figures out that the person who's been telling her the truth all along is her ex-stepbrother Josh (Paul Rudd). Along the way we talk about Heckerling's gift for main characters who don't see themselves the way everyone else does, why Cher's crew isn't Heathers or Mean Girls, empathy without hubris, found family, and the slang that outlived the 90s. Yes, we still say "as if." We also hand this 90s teen classic to the Stitch Count, our 9-point rating scale, and it earns an 8 out of 9.

This week we're ditching the usual format and pulling up a pillow inside the Blanket Fort with our friend Pat Green. No Stitch Count this time. Just three people talking about a movie and following the conversation wherever it goes. The movie is Gypsy 83, the 2001 indie about two goth misfits in Sandusky, Ohio, Gypsy Vale and her best friend Clive Webb, who pile into a beat up Trans Am and head for New York City and the Night of a Thousand Stevies, an annual tribute to Stevie Nicks. Along the way they run into a washed up cabaret singer, a runaway Amish teenager, and a lot of unresolved family history. What starts as a conversation about a scrappy little indie road trip movie turns into something much bigger: bravery, chosen family, the exhaustion of being called brave just for being yourself, and what it means to stop performing for people who aren't there anymore. Pat brings a lot of his own life into this one, and it makes for one of the most personal conversations we've had on this show. Grab a blanket and join us.

This week, we’re heading for the high seas with Muppet Treasure Island (1996), in memory of the brilliant and wonderful, Tim Curry. Tim Curry’s Long John Silver is charming, dangerous, funny, warm, and somehow exactly the person you want Jim Hawkins to stay away from and become best friends with at the same time. Because yes, he’s a thief. Yes, he’s a pirate. But also, it’s Tim Curry. We talk about Curry’s remarkable ability to make menace feel like an invitation, why he treated the Muppets as completely real scene partners, and the heart he brings to a role he genuinely loved. Along the way, we get into Jim Henson’s legacy, Rizzo quietly carrying half the movie, Miss Piggy’s surprisingly impressive gams, found family, the dangers of charisma, and why growing older sometimes changes the way we connect with the things we loved as kids. Mostly, though, this one is for Tim. For the laughter, the voice, the music, the villains we couldn’t help loving, and a career that gave us so many reasons to keep inviting him into the blanket fort.