Phantasm II

We talk about Bannister’s unique career and background and how Reggie evolves here into a more action-hero figure. We break down how Universal’s higher budget and studio demands changed the sequel’s tone—more linear, more action-driven, recasting Mike, and adding love interests—while losing some of the original’s dreamlike surreal horror. We discuss the road-trip structure, psychic subplot, mixed lore elements, standout practical effects, memorable set pieces, and the ending’s reset, plus where the series goes next and why we might revisit later entries like Ravager.

We talk about Bannister’s unique career and background and how Reggie evolves here into a more action-hero figure. We break down how Universal’s higher budget and studio demands changed the sequel’s tone—more linear, more action-driven, recasting Mike, and adding love interests—while losing some of the original’s dreamlike surreal horror. We discuss the road-trip structure, psychic subplot, mixed lore elements, standout practical effects, memorable set pieces, and the ending’s reset, plus where the series goes next and why we might revisit later entries like Ravager.

With that out of the way, we dig into 2025’s Good Boy, a low-budget haunted-house horror told largely from a dog’s perspective, and talk about why it’s basically 75 minutes of being up close with Indie (and why that’s either a feature or a bug). We cover the film’s SXSW buzz, long shoot with an untrained dog, and surprising box office success, then unpack what worked for us: the eerie atmosphere, subtle shadowy scares, dream/vision sequences, and the ambiguity around whether the cabin is haunted, the family is cursed, or we’re just watching death creep in as the owner grows sicker and more unstable. We also discuss pacing, the fox trap subplot, the muddy “reaper” finale, and why the dog-centered viewpoint makes the story uniquely unsettling—plus, yes, the dog doesn’t die.

We walk through the central tragedy of 16-year-old Alice’s drowning, the family’s grief, and the subtle escalation of eerie evidence—dreams, noises, strange photos, and hallway camera footage—before unpacking the film’s major twists. We talk about how the movie plays more as a drama about mourning and uncertainty than a straight ghost story, why some turns feel contrived, and why the final montage retroactively makes the whole experience linger. We also touch on the ongoing appeal of true-crime and mock-doc horror and what makes this one worth watching.

We reflect on how much he meant to us across roles like Rocky Horror, Clue, Pennywise, and extensive voice work, including how his stroke affected his career and why his memoir is worth reading (even if it’s brief and private). In celebrating his legacy, we discuss Ridley Scott’s Legend (1985), including its troubled production, stunning practical sets, and Curry’s iconic, physically demanding Darkness makeup. We compare the director’s cut and theatrical cut, focusing on how Jerry Goldsmith’s score versus Tangerine Dream radically changes tone, pacing, and character complexity, and we break down key scenes like Meg Mucklebones, Lily’s seduction/dance sequence, and the differing endings. Check out both cuts, as well as more of Curry's work over his many decades in the business!

We talk about the film’s charm, likable buddy dynamic, romantic-comedy “meet cute,” and its role-reversal premise where men are the ones being hunted by a vengeful spirit during a village festival. We break down the lore, the standout musical number and credits sequence, and the cast—Rajkummar Rao’s committed tailor performance, Shraddha Kapoor’s perfectly mysterious presence, and Pankaj Tripathi’s scene-stealing exposition. We also unpack the ending twist, sequel setup, and why this feels more spooky campfire tale than graphic horror.

For this tribute to Sam Neill, we dive into John Carpenter’s In the Mouth of Madness (1994), the final entry in Carpenter’s “Apocalypse Trilogy,” and a Lovecraft-inspired, reality-bending horror film built around books, belief, and cosmic dread. We break down Sam Neill’s performance as skeptic insurance investigator John Trent, the film’s surreal structure, meta ending, and plot-heavy descent into Hobbs End, where fiction bleeds into real life. We also highlight Carpenter’s signature direction and score, the stacked supporting cast (including Charlton Heston and David Warner), and the standout practical creature effects that make this one a must-watch.

We break down the movie’s hyper-stylized, Tarantino/Raimi/Rodriguez vibe, martial-arts-heavy set pieces, and throwback gore—plus how much we admired the practical effects and cinematography. We discuss Zazie Beetz carrying the film, the thin sister-family drama setup, and the central premise: a satanic, ultra-wealthy cult in The Virgil building whose members can regenerate after being “killed.” From the samurai-sword bloodbath to the sentient eyeball gag, the fire-axe cafeteria fight, and the pig-headed devil ritual, we debate whether it’s fun homage or too derivative, and who we’d recommend it to for a movie night.

We talk Renny Harlin, writer’s-strike, collaborative production, how the film cemented Freddy’s mainstream, quippier icon status, and why it became a massive independent hit despite critics like Roger Ebert. We break down the thin-but-fun vignette structure, the recasting of Kristen (and our near-miss getting Harlin on the show), Alice’s “power” progression, and standout sequences like Joey’s waterbed “wet dream,” Sheila’s classroom death, Rick’s dojo showdown, the surreal movie-theater nightmare, and Debbie’s unforgettable roach-motel kill. We also reflect on franchise highs/lows, Freddy’s future. Thanks for sticking with us all these years!.

We talk about its odd production history (including star Christopher Stryker’s tragic death before release), the bizarrely charming opening trauma, and how the film mashes together slasher tropes with “teens cause a death” and light Last House/I Spit On Your Grave vibes. From Dickens and his outcast crew to the incoherent football-game detours, swamp “slime” gathering, and a prank that turns into an unsettling assault, we break down the movie’s tonal whiplash and why the inciting incident arrives way too late. We also cover the rushed revenge ending, the goofy cover-up plan, and the final twist, plus call out Christopher Cousins (Breaking Bad) and Daniel Beer (Creepshow 2).