A discussion of cult films by two guys located in a basement somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Matt holds a B.S. and M.S. in physics, and works as an aerospace engineer. Mark holds a B.S. in biochemistry and works as a research technician... both are graduates of Snohomish High School Class of 91/92 respectiviely, none of which qualifies them to discuss film in any meaningful way... so... "caveat emptor" and all that.
The third and final review of the John Carpenter/Kurt Russell trilogy, this week we discuss Escape from New York. Mark's virgin viewing coupled with Matt's nostalgia result in contrary opinions. Does Escape from New York really not work? Does its unique premise and the quintessential movie anti-hero Snake Plissken override some of its more 2D performances? It's hard to say. But one could argue if it really matters in the end. One thing we do learn watching Escape, is that the rumors of Snake Plissken's premature demise may have been greatly exaggerated.
Let's turn this up to 11! Matt and Mark have come to the realization that it's a challenge to review comedies properly, and Spinal Tap is no different. But we give it a go, and as such, end up rambling quite a bit. Perhaps more tangential than usually, on this podcast we try to probe the cliched and spoof-worthy realm of heavy metal pop music, a comedy rich landscape. Spinal Tap holds a mirror up to the self-indulgent adolescent rocker, and no matter how close it hits to home, bands to this day continue to indulge the silliness. Just as rock will never die, neither will Spinal Tap.
Does Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket romanticize war? Is it possible to make a war movie that doesn't? An interesting two-part film, Kubrick builds a loose narrative from vignette's that don't necessarily speak to one overriding theme. But one doesn't watch FMJ to hammer home the "war is bad" narrative, you watch it for its dark humor, you watch it for its quips, character sketches, and dialogue, and you watch it because its evocative. "Get some!"
This week we review David Cronenberg's 1983 classic Videodrome. If brain tumors were doled out to those who've casually watched tasteless sex and violence, we'd all be dead in the internet age. But back in 1983, when VHS acted as a sole source for content delivery of our collective perversions, Videodrome was perhaps more prescient and horrifying. Thirty years later, calloused to reality television and on-line video "obscenity" where everyone lives "online", Videodrome's blurred reality is more the norm than the exception. Enjoy a little Crononberg body-horror and long live the new flesh!